Chapter 2

Disgust, humiliation, and despair crashed over Suzanne, swallowing her whole. She couldn't bear to hear another word. She spun around and ran like she'd lost it, stumbling out of the hotel and into the night. The wind slashed across her face, but she didn't feel cold. She burned all over, her blood boiling over from the anger and pain. She tore down the road, tears spilling fast and getting whipped away by the wind. Suzanne never forgot what happened when she was 18. She was working a part-time shift at a hotel that day when Isaac, who had been drunk, grabbed her and dragged her into a room. He was tall, good-looking, and dressed in expensive designer clothes, obviously born into money. He forced her onto the bed and violated her, ignoring her cries and her resistance. After it was over, Isaac sobered up and apologized. He said someone had drugged him and that he hadn't meant to do it. He said he'd take responsibility and give her any amount of money she wanted. However, Suzanne didn't want money. She wanted him to pay, so she called the police. When Isaac was taken away, she caught his look. There was guilt there, and regret, and something else she couldn't make sense of. She didn't find out until later how powerful his background was, or how fast his family would pull strings to get him out. She was terrified and in unbearable pain. Why should someone with money and power be able to violate a woman and walk away without paying for it? For days, Suzanne barely slept. Night after night, she would wake up from the nightmares to find her pillow soaked. Not long after, she heard Isaac had a heart attack in prison and died. She felt relief and thought he'd finally gotten what he deserved. What he'd done to her, though, didn't go away. Suzanne became afraid of men and pulled away from intimacy. She felt filthy and believed she was unworthy of love. That didn't change until she met Spencer. All it took was her saying she liked classical music before he had an entire concert hall rented out. He even brought in a world-class orchestra just for her alone. When she had menstrual cramps, he put his pride aside and fumbled through making her chamomile tea. Even when the heat left his fingers red, he brushed it off and told her, "It doesn't hurt." On every anniversary, Spencer showed up with carefully chosen gifts and romantic surprises that made Suzanne feel cherished. There were accidents, though. Two years earlier, a car crash damaged the nerves in her fingers and left her unable to handle demanding piano pieces, killing her dream of becoming a professional pianist. A year earlier, she'd just found out she was pregnant and was still riding on the joy when she slipped on the stairs and lost the baby. After every accident, Spencer acted like he was in more pain than she was, and he beat himself up over it. He became even more attentive, hovering and waiting on her so much that she couldn't scrape up even a trace of resentment. She only thought she'd been careless and had made him worry. The truth was, every one of those accidents had been carefully designed by him! Spencer had never loved Suzanne. What he'd been doing all along was carrying out a long, brutal revenge. He was so disgusted by the thought of touching her that he let other men take his place in bed. For five years, she'd been living a lie that was both ridiculous and revolting. Suzanne didn't know how long she ran. She only stopped when her strength finally gave out. Her legs went weak under her, and she sank by the side of the road. She pulled her knees to her chest and cried without making a sound. When her tears ran dry, all that remained was a raw, stinging ache and a cold, dead silence. She knew she couldn't stay here. She couldn't spend another second beside Spencer. Suzanne ran home like she'd lost her mind. She rushed into Spencer's study and tore through the drawers, the cabinets, the file racks. She searched in a blind hurry, shoving things aside and flinging them away until the room was a mess. Finally, in the bottom drawer of the desk, she found the divorce agreement. Spencer had already signed it. The date was three months earlier, which meant he'd had all of this ready back then. Suzanne stared at the document as tears fell onto the page, dotting the paper and bleeding the name "Spencer Price" into a blur. She picked up a pen and signed her own name with trembling hands. Each stroke cut into her chest. When she was done, she messaged the lawyer, Andrew Lloyd. "Mr. Lloyd, I want a divorce. I've sent the agreement to your email. Please take care of the paperwork as fast as possible."