I used to love the silence.
The static hum when everything went mute, when the only sound left was my own thoughts. That was when I plotted—when I made sure every variable was in place, every thread pulled tight.
But something went deadly wrong.
Obviously or otherwise, I wouldn't be here, sitting in a solitary jail cell.
The truth is, I don't know what failed.
And that terrifies me more than the walls, the locks, or the endless hours alone.
I was busy being a good wife. A good mother. As with everything in my life, I made sure to excel. I thought maybe letting my darkness go was what a good wife would do.
The memory makes me laugh as I lie on the hard cot, the thin mattress pressing springs into my back, arms crossed behind my head. Naïve—that's what I was. Or maybe just overconfident. I thought I had outsmarted everyone. But for the first time, someone caught me off guard. Someone outplayed me.
People assume prison must be unbearable for me. That being born into one of the richest families in the country left me unprepared for "real" struggles. They think I've only ever faced rich-girl problems—like running out of things to buy, or the crushing weight of boredom.
They don't know me at all.
That's what my new cellmate assumed when she arrived.
"Violet Russ," she laughed as she stepped into my space, her footsteps heavy on the concrete floor. "What a downfall, princess. You look like shit."
She reached out, her fingers greasy as they slid through my hair. "You really need to retouch this color." Another laugh, sharp and grating, bounced off the steel bars.
I stepped back until the cot hit the backs of my legs and forced me to sit. My pulse spiked, quick and uneven. She didn't take the hint. Instead, she leaned forward, her breath sour and damp on my skin.
"My name's Jess," she said, her smile all teeth. "And I'll be your worst nightmare."
I should have been scared. Instead, I was bored.
Jess thought she was showing dominance, but I'd seen this performance too many times before—in the glass towers of Fortune 500 boardrooms, on the dirty streets, and now in a prison cell. Human nature never changes.
Still, I knew better than to start a fight with another inmate. That wouldn't help my case.
So I slid sideways, the rough wall scraping my shoulder, rising to put distance between us. She followed. She didn't get the clue.
By then, my back was pressed to the cold bars, metal biting through my shirt. Jess loomed in front of me. I had two inches on her, but she was broader, heavier. My palms tingled with heat, sweat prickling along my spine.
"Okay, look, Jess," I said, my throat dry, my voice trembling despite myself. "I don't want problems here. I have money, I have connections. I can smuggle in anything you need."
I wasn't afraid. Not really. I could break her in two movements if I wanted.
Jess grinned, spit flecking my cheek. Warm. Wet. My jaw twitched with the effort it took not to wipe it away—or break her jaw.
"I know you have money," she said. "But, princess, this ain't Beverly Hills. You don't get to pay the help and treat them like shit. Here…" she leaned closer, her yellow teeth bared inches from my lips, her breath hot and rancid, "…you are the shit."
My stomach turned. Heat rushed up my neck. I tasted bile.
"I'll pay you to leave me alone," I said, my patience fraying. My fingers curled into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms.
Her hands shot to my throat. Her grip was iron, the pressure crushing my windpipe. My vision speckled black at the edges as I struggled to drag in a breath. Her amber eyes darkened, her face looming closer.
"You didn't understand, princess." Her voice dropped to a growl. "You'll pay me… not to end your miserable little life."
I nodded quickly, chest heaving, the burn of oxygen deprivation making my temples pound.
I'd play along. For now. But sooner or later, Jess would learn what kind of monster she'd really locked herself in with.
Jess smiled as she loosened her grip. Blood roared in my ears as air rushed back into my lungs. My throat throbbed where her fingers had been.
"Good," she said triumphantly. "Even if you die here, no one will notice. That rich, handsome husband of yours? He's already forgotten you. He's with a real blonde now."
The words landed like knives. My chest tightened.
By the time she finished speaking, she was on the floor. My knees pinned her ribs, my fingers digging into her slick skin as I crushed her throat. My body moved before I even thought.
"What did you say?" My voice cracked, sharp, manic—even to my own ears. My heart pounded so hard it echoed in my skull.
"You—stupid—bitch—" Jess coughed, her words splintering into a shriek as I bore down harder.
"Who is he with?" I roared, spittle spraying, my whole body shaking with the force of it.
"I—I saw it in a magazine… on the cover… I didn't read—"
"Who. Is. He. With?" My arms burned with the effort of holding her down.
Her face bloomed red, veins swelling along her temples. Her legs kicked uselessly beneath me.
"Nic—Nicole Steele!" she wheezed.
No. That couldn't be. Adam wouldn't trade me for her. Not after everything.
But deep down, I'd always known. I would lose him the moment he saw who I really was. My dark, hollow self.
So I had pretended to be Vulnerable. Compassionate and Nurturing.
I remade myself into his type—body and soul.
I bet everything on the hope he'd never discover the truth.
But he did. And the memory of that day—the look in his eyes—split me open. Tears blurred Jess's swollen face beneath me. My chest heaved, my arms trembling with rage as my grip crushed tighter.
The day I lost my husband.
The day I lost my daughter.
The day he wished I was dead.
The cell door clanged open. Rough hands tore me back, slamming me onto the freezing floor. My head cracked against concrete, stars exploding across my vision. Rust and dust filled my mouth as my cheek scraped the ground.
Cold metal bit into my wrists as the guards shackled me. My pulse still thundered, blood rushing like wildfire in my veins.
Through the blur of tears and adrenaline, I caught one last glimpse of Jess.
Her eyes were clossed.