Riley:
I slide the business card into my bra while Marcus drives us home from the gala.
My hands shake but I force them steady. The card is small and stiff against my skin. Marcus checks my purse. My pockets. My phone. Everything. But he never checks there.
The city lights blur past the car window. Marcus is silent which is somehow worse than when he's angry. Silent Marcus is thinking. Planning. Deciding what punishment fits my crime.
Looking at the bar. Walking into a stranger. Being gone twelve minutes instead of ten.
My cheek still throbs where he slapped me. My lip stopped bleeding but I can feel where it split. Every time I swallow I taste copper.
"You embarrassed me tonight," Marcus finally says.
My stomach clenches. "I'm sorry."
"Are you? Because from where I stood it looked like you were trying to humiliate me. Making me chase you down. Disappearing for over ten minutes."
"I wasn't trying to—"
"Don't interrupt me when I'm speaking."
I close my mouth. Press my lips together and feel the split lip sting. The business card burns against my skin like a brand.
Dante Salvatore. I don't know who he is but the way he looked at Marcus's name told me everything. He hates my husband. Knows things about him. Offered to kill him like it was a normal Tuesday afternoon activity.
I should throw the card away. Should forget the whole conversation. Should accept that this is my life now and there's no escape.
But I can't. Something about those ice blue eyes made me believe him when he said there was another way.
We pull into our building's parking garage. Marcus gets out and comes around to open my door. To anyone watching he looks like a gentleman helping his wife. They don't see how his grip bruises my arm as he pulls me out.
The elevator ride up to our apartment is silent. I count floors. Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Twenty-five. Each number feels like a countdown to something inevitable.
Our apartment is beautiful. Hardwood floors. Expensive furniture. Floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city. A cage wrapped in luxury.
Marcus locks the door behind us. Turns to face me.
"Give me your phone."
This is new. He usually just checks it while I sleep. Actually taking it means I did something worse than usual.
I hand it over without arguing. He scrolls through my calls. My texts. My emails. Looking for evidence of betrayal that doesn't exist.
"You were gone twelve minutes," he says, still scrolling. "What were you doing?"
"Fixing my makeup. You told me to fix my makeup."
"It doesn't take twelve minutes to apply lipstick."
My heart pounds. He's looking for a reason. An excuse to make this worse.
"The bathroom was crowded. I had to wait."
Marcus looks up. Studies my face like he can read lies written on my skin. Maybe he can. Two years of marriage taught him all my tells.
"Go to the bedroom. Now."
Terror floods through me. "Marcus, please—"
"Did I ask for your opinion?"
"No."
"Then do what I told you."
I walk to our bedroom on legs that barely hold me up. Hear Marcus following. Hear him close the door and turn the lock.
The click of that lock is the loneliest sound in the world.
"Undress."
I turn to face him. "What?"
"You heard me. I want to make sure you're not hiding anything."
The business card is still in my bra. If he finds it he'll know I talked to someone. Know I'm planning to leave. Know everything.
"Marcus, I'm not hiding anything—"
"Then you won't mind proving it."
This is a test. A game. He loves games where he holds all the power and I have none.
My hands shake as I reach for my dress zipper. I'm trying to figure out how to get the card out without him seeing. Trying to buy time.
"Actually, I'm exhausted. Can we do this tomorrow?"
Wrong thing to say. Marcus's expression goes flat.
"When did you start questioning my decisions?"
"I'm not questioning. I'm just—"
He crosses the room in three steps. Grabs my arm hard enough to leave new bruises on top of old ones. His face is inches from mine.
"You're just what? Trying to hide something? Trying to lie to me again?"
"No! I swear I'm not hiding anything."
He stares at me for a long moment. Then releases my arm and steps back.
"Fine. Keep the dress on. But give me your jewelry. All of it."
I remove my earrings. My necklace. My bracelet. Hand them over with shaking fingers. Marcus takes them and walks to the door.
"Goodnight, Riley. Think about your behavior tonight. We'll discuss appropriate consequences in the morning."
He leaves. The lock clicks again from the outside.
I'm trapped.
I stand frozen for a full minute making sure he's really gone. Then I reach into my bra and pull out the business card. It's slightly bent from body heat but the number is still clear.
Dante Salvatore's private number. My only escape route.
I hide the card under my mattress and climb into bed fully dressed. The room is dark except for city lights filtering through the windows. I stare at the ceiling and count all the ways this could go wrong.
Dante Salvatore is dangerous. Everyone in New York knows his reputation. Ruthless billionaire who destroys competitors without mercy. Cold. Calculating. The kind of man who builds empires and burns bridges.
But he's also my only option.
Marcus will never let me go. I tried divorcing him three times. Three times he used his prosecutor connections to bury the paperwork. Used his lawyer friends to make me look unstable in court. Used his reputation as a hero to make everyone think I was the problem.
I'm trapped in a marriage to a man who hurts me and the law can't save me because Marcus is the law.
Unless Dante Salvatore can do what he promised. Dissolve my marriage. Give me freedom.
What does he want in return? Men like him don't help people out of kindness. There's always a price.
But whatever price he asks can't be worse than this. Can't be worse than locked bedrooms and split lips and slowly forgetting who I used to be.
I lie awake all night. Listening for Marcus's footsteps. Waiting for the door to open. It never does.
At dawn I hear the lock click. Marcus walks in holding my phone.
"I'm heading to the courthouse. Early meeting." He sets the phone on the dresser. "Your location tracking is on. I'll know if you go anywhere inappropriate."
"I won't."
He kisses my forehead like he didn't lock me in a room all night. Like this is normal. Like we're a normal couple.
"Good girl. I'll be home by six. Have dinner ready."
The front door closes. I wait ten minutes to make sure he's really gone. Then I grab my phone and the business card from under the mattress.
My hands shake so hard I almost drop the phone twice. The card is wrinkled now but the number is still readable.
This is insane. Calling a stranger who offered to murder my husband. Trusting a man known for being ruthless and cold. Betting my entire future on one phone call.
But I'm out of options. Out of hope. Out of everything except desperation.
I dial the number before I can change my mind.
It rings once. Twice.
On the third ring a smooth voice answers. "I was wondering when you'd call."
Dante Salvatore. Just hearing his voice makes my heart race.
"I need to know what you meant. About another way."
"Direct. I appreciate that." There's a pause. "Have you made your decision?"
Decision. Like it's that simple. Like choosing between my abusive husband and a dangerous stranger is an easy choice.
But maybe it is. Maybe when you're drowning you don't care if the hand pulling you out belongs to a saint or a devil. You just want to breathe again.
I close my eyes. Take a breath. Jump off the cliff.
"Where do I sign?"
Silence on the other end. Then that smooth voice with something new underneath it. Something that might be approval.
"Salvatore Tower. Seventy-second floor. Two hours."
My stomach drops. "Two hours? I can't just—"
"Can't or won't?"
The question hits like a slap. He's right. I'm already making excuses. Already falling back into the pattern of believing I can't do things.
"Marcus tracks my phone. If I go somewhere unexpected he'll know."
"Then turn off location services. Tell him your phone died. You have two hours to decide if you want freedom or if you want to stay in that cage." His voice softens slightly. "I'll be waiting either way, Riley. But I won't wait forever."
The line goes dead.
I stare at my phone. At the call log showing a two minute conversation that might change everything.
Two hours. One hundred and twenty minutes to choose between the devil I know and the devil I don't.
Marcus will be furious if he finds out. Will make tonight's punishment look gentle.
But if I don't go I'll spend the rest of my life wondering what if. Wondering if I threw away my only real chance at escape.
I look at my reflection in the bedroom mirror. See the bruise on my cheek. The split lip. The terrified woman who forgot how to fight.
Not anymore.
I turn off my phone's location tracking. Grab my purse. Walk to the door.
My hand hesitates on the doorknob. This is it. The point of no return.
Then I think about Marcus locking me in this room. About two more years of this. About slowly disappearing until there's nothing left.
I open the door and walk out.