When I came home late from the hospital, my husband slapped me hard and screamed, “Do you know what time it is, you useless bitch? My mother and I are starving!” I tried to explain I’d been rushed to the ER—but the answer was more blows. Outside the door, my father stood frozen, watching it all. They never realized who he really was…

The morning of the preliminary hearing arrived with an overcast sky.

I stood in front of the full-length mirror in the oceanfront villa, wearing a sharply tailored charcoal suit Dad’s stylist had brought over the night before. The bruise on my cheekbone was still faintly purple, but I refused to hide it under heavy foundation. I wanted the judge, the lawyers, and Ryan to see every single mark he had left on me.

When Dad and I entered the courtroom, the buzz of whispered conversations died down immediately. Dad walked with an effortless, commanding authority that parted the reporters and court watchers gathered in the gallery.

Ryan sat at the defense table in an ill-fitting orange jumpsuit, his hands cuffed to a chain around his waist. His slicked-back hair was messy, his stubble was uneven, and his shoulders were hunched. When he turned and saw me walking in—tall, composed, flanked by two of the most prestigious trial attorneys in the state—his eyes widened in disbelief.

Beside him sat a court-appointed attorney who looked like he wanted to crawl under the bench.

The judge, an imposing woman with silver hair named Justice Thornton, slammed her gavel down. "Case number 4092, the State versus Ryan Holloway. We are here on a motion to reconsider bail."

Ryan’s lawyer stood up reluctantly. "Your Honor, my client has deep roots in the community. We request a reasonable bail amount so Mr. Holloway can assist in preparing his defense."

Before the prosecutor could even stand, our private counsel, Marcus Sterling, stepped toward the podium.

"Your Honor, if I may," Sterling said smoothly. "I represent Mrs. Claire Vance-Holloway, the surviving victim, as well as the Vance Estate. We have submitted an emergency petition alongside forty-two pages of preliminary financial audits."

Justice Thornton adjusted her spectacles. "I've reviewed the preliminary documents, Mr. Sterling. Are you telling this court that the defendant actively laundered funds to prepare for an imminent flight out of the country?"

"Precisely, Your Honor," Sterling replied, projecting his voice so every person in the gallery heard every syllable. "We have obtained flight records showing Mr. Holloway booked a one-way charter flight to Zurich, Switzerland, scheduled for tomorrow morning. He purchased two tickets under assumed names."

Ryan suddenly shot to his feet, rattling his chains violently against the defense table. "That's a lie! She's setting me up! Claire is crazy, Your Honor! Look at her! She’s trying to destroy my life because I wanted a divorce!"

"Sit down, Mr. Holloway!" the judge ordered, her voice like cracking ice.

"She was nothing before me!" Ryan shouted, his face turning an ugly, mottled crimson as the bailiffs forced him back into his chair. "I gave her a home! I gave her a name! She’s an ungrateful, sick little bitch who couldn't even keep her own heart beating without my permission!"

The courtroom fell into an appalled, breathless silence.

Justice Thornton stared at Ryan with unbridled disgust. "Mr. Holloway, you have just demonstrated for the entire court your utter lack of impulse control, your violent disposition, and your total disregard for human decency."

She picked up her gavel and brought it down with the force of a thunderclap.

"Bail is denied. The defendant will be remanded into custody pending trial. And I am issuing an immediate, indefinite protective order forbidding the defendant or any member of his family from coming within one thousand yards of Mrs. Vance."

As the bailiffs hauled Ryan toward the holding cells, he twisted his neck, his eyes locking onto mine.