Minutes later, Estelle stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped tightly around her body. The steam from the bathroom still clung to her skin, beads of water trailing down her arms and legs before sinking into the fabric. The dim golden light from the bedroom lamp softened her silhouette, but it did nothing to blur the reality engraved into her skin.
She patted herself dry slowly, until the towel slipped away and left her naked in front of the mirror. For a long moment, she just stared. Her reflection didn't even look like the woman society admired. That elegant Mrs. Astor draped in jewels and designer gowns. This reflection looked nothing like it.
She lowered her head, her gaze fell on the jagged scar along her belly and her trembling fingers traced its length. The skin there was rough and dark, an ugly reminder carved permanently onto her body. She swallowed hard. Each scar told its own story; the silent battles no one else knew about.
