Chapter 6
The heavy door slammed shut behind me–this time, locked from the outside.
As the bolt clicked into place, I sat on the stone steps, watching birds soar freely across the sky.
I was this close to freedom.
But close… doesn’t count.
In less than a day, I’d been stripped of everything.
The White House buzzed with gossip–word was out: the First Lady was locked up, and Isabella had been crowned the new royal consort.
Those same aides and maids who used to fight for a moment in my presence were now lining up to bribe the head steward, begging for traniers.
The snow weighed down the garden roses until they crumpled into the dirt, lifeless.
I sat there in silence, so long the heat in my hand warmer faded, and cold seeped deep into my bones.
Just as I was about to go inside, I saw something in the corner of the courtyard.
A flash of yellow.
Victor Lancaster was standing there.
I had no idea how long he’d been watching.
But in his eyes I saw confusion, pity, guilt–but no love.
He led me inside. The fire had long since gone out.
The grand room felt hollow, cold.
He took my frozen hands and pressed them against his chest, like I used to do for him.
But my face stayed blank, emotionless.
After a long silence, he frowned, trying to break the ice.
“Why is it so damn cold in here? Where is everyone?”
I looked at him. I said nothing, but he heard everything.
Victor was used to Isabella’s sweetness, her charm.
He wasn’t used to getting shut out.
His patience had worn thin.
He snapped.
Grabbed me by the neck and slammed me against the wall.
The blow knocked over an iron candleholder beside us.
“Eleanor Sterling, have I spoiled you so much you forgot your place?”
“You’re the First Lady. What more could you possibly want?”
“Why are you trying to leave me?”
I staggered up, hølding my throat, and looked at him with pure contempt.
T’ll never share a man with the daughter of my mother’s killer ↳
And I sure as hell won’t love a traitor,”
If you’ve got the guts, go ahead and kill me?
“Because as long as I’m breathing, I’ll fight to get away from your even if it kills me
He flinched.
That last word–kills–shook him..
His grip loosened.
His smile turned wild.
“Eleanor… you never learn, do you?”
Before I could process what he meant, he hit me hard.
Everything went black.
When I came to, a searing pain burned across my back.
I trembled as I realized someone behind me was jabbing a needle into my skin–over and over again.
Eventually, it stopped.
A maid helped me sit up.
The steward rolled in a giant mirror.
One look–and I froze.
A full–color tattoo stretched across my back.
A brilliant blue peacock.
So lifelike it made my blood run cold.
It pulled me straight back into a memory I’d buried for years.
My stepmother, whining that she wanted to see a peacock spread its feathers.
But in the dead of winter, the birds were sluggish and barely moved.
My father–always eager to please her–ordered them to throw my mother into the bird sanctuary.
The peacocks went mad.
They clawed and pecked and shredded her skin while she screamed.
Her cries faded.
My stepmother just laughed.
Afterward, she told my father, “Thank you for that beautiful show.”
“The peacock dance… was perfect.”
She’d used my mother’s life as entertainment.
Still in shock, I felt Victor step up behind me.
He kissed the tattoo.
Do
you like it. I
Eleanor? This is my gift
to you…
Something
you’ll never be
able to forget
Itis
voice
was gentle.
His shadow
on the wall…
was that of
a monster.
I never imagined
the
man
who
knew
every inch
of
my soul
would
turn
epest
pain
into his
weapon–to carve
up
my heart, piece by piece
The rage
surged like a tsunami.
Victor. Isabella.
One
day, I’ll make
you
pay.
