William Jafferson
12 Published Stories
William Jafferson's Books and Stories
From Brokenness To Billionaire Bride
Horror My father raised seven brilliant orphans to be my potential husbands. For years, I only had eyes for one of them, the cold and distant Damien Paul, believing his distance was a wall I just had to break through.
That belief shattered last night when I found him in the garden, kissing his foster sister, Eve—the fragile girl my family took in at his request, the one I had treated like my own sister.
But the true horror came when I overheard the other six Fellows talking in the library.
They weren't competing for me. They were working together, orchestrating "accidents" and mocking my "stupid, blind" devotion to keep me away from Damien.
Their loyalty wasn't to me, the heiress who held their futures in her hands. It was to Eve.
I wasn't a woman to be won. I was a foolish burden to be managed. The seven men I grew up with, the men who owed my family everything, were a cult, and she was their queen.
This morning, I walked into my father's study to make a decision that would burn their world to the ground. He smiled, asking if I'd finally won Damien over.
"No, Dad," I said, my voice firm. "I'm marrying Hunter Beach." Replaced By A Mistress: The Wife's Revenge
Mafia I went to the City Clerk's office to update my passport, desperate to feel alive again after losing my ability to draw.
Instead, the clerk handed me a reality that killed me.
"Mrs. Crosby," she whispered, her face drained of color. "You aren't married to Bennet. The divorce was finalized three years ago. On October 12th."
The date hit me harder than a physical blow.
October 12th was the day my right hand was crushed.
The day Gianna Skinner, a woman obsessed with my husband, shattered twenty-seven bones in my drawing hand with a marble bust.
Bennet, the most ruthless Don in New York, had promised me justice. He swore he locked Gianna in a dungeon to rot for hurting his "Angel."
But the screen in front of me told a different story.
He had married Gianna the very same day he divorced me.
I drove to the Lake House where she was supposed to be suffering. I didn't find a prison; I found a modern glass palace.
There they were, sitting on a swing set I had designed.
Gianna wasn't rotting. She was laughing in his lap, wearing a silk robe.
"She is so pathetic," Gianna purred, tracing his jaw. "Five years and she still thinks she is the Lady of the house."
Bennet chuckled, the sound dark and terrifying.
"She is broken, Gianna. A bird with no wings. She has no value to the Family anymore, except as a trophy on my shelf. She is my pet. You are my fire."
My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Bennet.
"Happy Anniversary, my Angel. Tonight, I give you the world."
He wasn't giving me the world. He was building a cage out of lies.
Through a bugged ring, I later heard his endgame: he planned to institutionalize me for "mental instability" so he could bring Gianna into the light.
I didn't go home to cry.
I went to my office and opened a secure browser on the dark web.
*Subject: Protocol Erasure.*
*Target: Harper Cline.*
*Execution: Immediate.*
Bennet thought he had broken his pet.
He was about to realize he had just unleashed a lioness. The Surgeon Heiress's Cold-Blooded Revenge
Modern I woke up strapped to a cold steel operating table, the blinding light of a surgical lamp burning my retinas. I was a doctor, but I wasn't the one holding the scalpel this time.
Then I heard the voice of my stepfather, Arthur Bailey—the man who had seized my family’s entire estate after my father’s death. He wasn't there to save me; he was there to sell me. "Just get the kidney on ice for Archer," he told the butcher in scrubs. "Do whatever you want with the rest of her."
This wasn't a hospital; it was a slaughterhouse in Queens. To escape, I had to dislocate my own thumb to slip the leather cuffs and use a scalpel to slice my way out of the room. Covered in blood and grime, I crashed Arthur's high-society gala at the Plaza Hotel, only to find my family pretending to mourn my "mental breakdown" while they planned my permanent disappearance into an asylum. Even as I stood before them, dripping with sewer water and rage, they tried to have me dragged away as a lunatic.
I was a top-tier trauma surgeon, yet I was being treated like a piece of meat by the people who were supposed to be my family. The betrayal tasted like copper in my mouth, a cold, slow panic turning into a simmering, absolute fury. I didn't understand how they could look at me and see nothing but a collection of spare parts.
That's when Cedric Mullen, the billionaire I’d been legally married to while he was in a coma, stepped out of the shadows to claim me. He didn't want a wife; he wanted a legal asset to unlock his inheritance. I looked into his predator's eyes and signed his contract, trading my silence for his resources. I told him, "I want Arthur Bailey destroyed. I want him to feel what it’s like to be cut open and left for dead." I wasn't a victim anymore; I was a reckoning. My Husband's Perfect Deception
Modern For five years, my life was perfect. I was the political genius who put my father on a path to the White House. My charming husband, Christian, adored me.
It was all a meticulously crafted lie.
His ex-fiancée, Isabelle, the one they told me died in a car crash? She wasn't dead. I found her living in a secluded estate with my husband and their four-year-old son.
My own father was funding their secret life. My entire family was in on it.
Then I found the video. My father, my stepmother, and Christian, all planning my character assassination.
"We paint her as emotionally volatile, a liability," my father said. "We discredit her before she can discredit us."
They weren't just hiding a secret. They were prepared to destroy me to protect it. The family I thought was my anchor was my prison, and the man I loved was my warden.
The idealistic girl who craved her father's approval died right there. She was replaced by a cold, precise fury.
I copied their entire secret life onto an encrypted flash drive. I built their dynasty.
And now, I was going to be the one to burn it to ash. Betrayed Heiress: A Husband's Deception
Billionaires Four years after Alanna Robertson, a wealthy heiress, was kidnapped, she miraculously returned home, only to find her fiancé, Cameron Stewart, and brother, Anderson Robertson, completely under the spell of her adoptive sister, Bailey Kent.
She tried to expose the truth, but they dismissed her claims as trauma-induced delusions. Instead of finding comfort, Alanna was slapped, pushed down stairs, falsely accused, and humiliated.
Her own family, the people she loved most, betrayed her. They sided with Bailey, believing her every lie, and even sent Alanna back to the very human trafficking compound where she had been held captive for years. There, she endured unimaginable torture once more.
Why were they so blind? How could they be so easily manipulated by Bailey's sweet facade? Why did the people who claimed to love her punish her for telling the truth?
In her darkest hour, Alanna found a hidden camera in her mother's locket. She meticulously recorded every act of betrayal and every moment of her renewed nightmare. Then, with a final, desperate act of defiance, she set the compound ablaze and leaped from a cliff, using her own life as the ultimate proof. She left them with a ticking time bomb of truth, forcing them to confront their monstrous mistakes. Finding Love After Leaving Him
Romance I spent seven years loving Autry Villarreal, the man who became my guardian after my parents died. He was my savior, my entire world.
Then, he announced his engagement to Cassie Turner, a woman who looked uncannily like a younger version of me. I found out by watching it on the news.
His fiancée moved into our home and immediately began erasing me. She tore out the rose garden I had spent years tending, laughing as the bushes were ripped from the ground.
Next, he used his influence to kill a major brand deal I had, giving it to her instead.
The final blow came when she leaked fake, scandalous photos of me online. He refused to defend my name. He told me to just disappear, offering me money to live comfortably as long as I stayed away.
"I will protect her," he said. "She is my fiancée."
I looked at the man who had promised to always protect me, now offering to pay for my silence. In that moment, seven years of love turned to ash.
I booked a one-way ticket to France. This time, I wasn't running away. I was finally choosing to live for myself. The Final Cut: Love Lost
Billionaires Ethan Miller, a game developer, was lost in his pixelated world until his fiancée, Chloe, shattered it. He watched online as she flaunted herself with billionaire Julian Harrison, a man old enough to be her father, wearing a sapphire bracelet he couldn't afford.
Chloe's merciless abandonment followed. She returned to their apartment only to trash his monitor, mocking him as a "broke nobody" and declaring her love for Harrison right to his face, adding insult to injury.
The deep betrayal and humiliation felt like a physical blow. He stared at the shattered screen, the broken pieces of his game, of his life. Chloe packed her bags, laughing as she left, promising Monaco and a life he couldn' t dream of.
His world spiraled-a small apartment, a crashed monitor, and the echoing words of Chloe with her new lover. He was a victim, a nobody. Everything they had built was fake, like the pixels on his screen.
But the hurt quickly solidified into a cold, burning anger. He picked up his phone, dialed a number he hadn't touched in three years, and with a steady voice, declared, "Dad, I'm coming home." The Woman He Became
Romance My wife, Molly, had a best friend, Nate, who was always a little too close for comfort.
I tried to ignore the red flags-her late nights with him, his hand always on her arm, their inside jokes that shut me out-but it ate at me.
Then, for my birthday, Molly brought Nate along… via video call, to help him custom-design a gift.
I stood there, an ignored accessory to my own celebration, feeling like a piece of furniture until my patience snapped. The final blow came on our anniversary when she abandoned me completely for one of Nate' s "emergencies."
I decided I was done.
But as I packed my bags, Molly dropped a bombshell: she was pregnant. Under immense family pressure and for the sake of our unborn child, I agreed to try again, but only if Nate was completely out of our lives. She promised.
But she lied.
Weeks later, despite my direct orders, she secretly went to Nate' s notorious boat party, where his reckless actions caused her to lose our baby.
The devastating loss shattered everything, leaving us with nothing but the broken pieces of a life that would never be.
In a twisted spiral of grief and blame, Molly snapped. She drove to Nate' s studio, waited for him, and intentionally ran him over, crushing his legs and ending his career.
She was arrested, her life, and what remained of ours, irrevocably ruined. Finally free from the toxic cycle, I walked out of the chaos and into a new, respected future, entirely my own. The Diplomat's Daughter's Justice
Modern Sarah Miller was deeply in love with Ethan Hayes, her charming athlete boyfriend of four years.
Their relationship felt perfect, built on trust and shared intimacy.
A simple visit to the university clinic for a stomach ache seemed innocuous enough.
But Ethan' s step-sister, Chloe, a nursing student, botched Sarah' s blood draw, causing her immense pain.
When Sarah calmly asked Chloe for an apology, Ethan' s loyalty shockingly shifted.
He sold Sarah' s most intimate photos-photos he had taken-to his frat brothers, boasting he was "teaching her a lesson" for slighting Chloe.
Sarah discovered her private life plastered across campus forums, her dignity publicly shamed and mocked.
Yet, the nightmare escalated further when Ethan, feigning concern, lured her to a party under the false pretense of Chloe' s apology.
There, she was drugged with GHB, humiliated, and recorded by Ethan and his friends, their leering faces documenting her violated state.
How could the man she loved so deeply betray her so fundamentally, all for a petty slight against his step-sister?
Why did his seemingly protective words mask such calculated, cruel sadism?
Her world spun in a haze of sickening betrayal, unbearable public degradation, and the terrifying loss of memory from that fateful night.
Broken but not defeated, Sarah made a desperate call to her diplomat parents, fleeing the country to heal.
Now, years later, armed with a full, terrifying memory of that night and an unwavering resolve, she' s back.
And this time, she' s not just escaping-she' s here to ensure every single person who wronged her faces their true reckoning. The Heiress Who Died Twice
Billionaires After two years in a secluded Swiss Alps "wellness retreat," I returned to my Hamptons home, ready to reclaim my life and legacy.
But my lavish "welcome back" party quickly turned into a public spectacle of betrayal. My fiancé, Ethan, openly paraded Olivia Morgan, a manipulative substitute who'd copied my style then twisted it into a saccharine imitation. My half-brother, Leo, and stepmother, Catherine, plotted to seize our family's media empire. I was dismissed as "harsh" while Olivia played the innocent victim. Ethan, whom I’d once loved, hurled accusations. Then my cousin, Ellie, revealed the chilling truth: Olivia wasn't just mimicking me; she was following a discarded script Ellie had written – a story where the "sweet" rival replaced and killed the heiress.
This wasn't just about betrayal; it was a deranged, literal plot for my life, orchestrated by those I trusted most. The sheer audacity of them trying to write my ending, to cast me out and then erase me completely, ignited a cold fury I never knew I possessed.
They wanted me dead? Fine. I decided then and there that if they wanted to follow a script, *I* would write the new ending. And it would start with my very public, very convincing "death." This time, I’d pull the strings from the shadows, making sure everyone got exactly what they deserved. The Assistant's Secret, The CEO's Obsession
Billionaires They called it an "accidental drowning." Eighteen months. Eighteen months since my brother, Leo, was gone. His infectious laugh, his terrible jokes, all silenced.
But I knew the truth. It was a lie. Izzy Sterling’s name was branded on my soul. Those Hamptons words – "Deal with him" – led to Leo’s broken body on the shore. Their money, their lawyers, buried the truth.
So I spent eighteen months learning. Not just my NYU degree, but about the Sterlings, their dirty secrets. I became Ethan Reed’s executive assistant, perfect, invisible. I meticulously orchestrated Izzy Sterling’s downfall, manipulating jealousy, sowing doubt, turning her own cruelty against her. My plan worked. I replaced her. Yet, somewhere along the way, I fell in love with Ethan, the man I was meant to use.
Just as I thought justice was within reach, a new, far more cunning darkness emerged: Julian Vance. Not just a cover-up artist, but a true monster. He saw me as a threat, poisoned me, kidnapped me, even hired a hitman for my unborn child. Each escalating attack pushed me to the edge, a new kind of desperation.
Cornered, I confessed my carefully guarded secrets to Ethan. And to my surprise, he didn't run. Instead, he chose to fight with me, against the monsters who wronged my family, against anyone who threatened our newfound love. But even after Julian's imprisonment, a ruthless business rival, Marcus Thorne, launched a deadly attack, pushing me into premature labor. This isn't just about truth anymore. It’s about survival. It's about protecting what’s left, and ensuring no one else suffers like Leo, even if it means fighting beyond the law. You might like
From Brokenness To Billionaire Bride
William Jafferson My father raised seven brilliant orphans to be my potential husbands. For years, I only had eyes for one of them, the cold and distant Damien Paul, believing his distance was a wall I just had to break through.
That belief shattered last night when I found him in the garden, kissing his foster sister, Eve—the fragile girl my family took in at his request, the one I had treated like my own sister.
But the true horror came when I overheard the other six Fellows talking in the library.
They weren't competing for me. They were working together, orchestrating "accidents" and mocking my "stupid, blind" devotion to keep me away from Damien.
Their loyalty wasn't to me, the heiress who held their futures in her hands. It was to Eve.
I wasn't a woman to be won. I was a foolish burden to be managed. The seven men I grew up with, the men who owed my family everything, were a cult, and she was their queen.
This morning, I walked into my father's study to make a decision that would burn their world to the ground. He smiled, asking if I'd finally won Damien over.
"No, Dad," I said, my voice firm. "I'm marrying Hunter Beach." My Identity Was Stolen
Hydro Therapy The last thing I felt was the pillow smothering my face, the cheap floral scent filling my lungs as my struggles grew weaker.
Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Ms. Davis' s chilling hiss: "You crazy girl, how dare you disrupt the young lady' s party! I' ll kill you!"
She wasn' t lying. My life, so bright just hours before, was ending in a dark, dusty storage room.
It all began on my graduation day, Sarah Miller, the valedictorian, standing on stage. But when I arrived at my family home for the lavish celebration, the doors were shut, my key wouldn' t turn.
Inside, through the window, I saw Emily Davis, my guardian' s daughter, wearing my dress, accepting congratulations from my friends, being called by my name.
A cold wave of nausea washed over me. I pounded on the door, screaming, "Let me in! I' m Sarah Miller! That' s an imposter!"
No one believed me. They saw a frantic, disheveled girl and a poised, elegant young woman inside. Ms. Davis slapped me, shrieking, "How dare you disrupt the young lady' s party! I' ll kill you!"
They dragged me away, threw me into a windowless storage room, and locked me in. Hours later, Ms. Davis returned with a pillow.
"You just couldn' t leave it alone, could you?" she whispered. "You make too much noise."
Then, she pushed it down.
My consciousness dissolved into suffocating blackness.
Then, I gasped, shooting upright. Sunlight streamed through a familiar window. I was in my bed, in my room at the Davis house.
My heart pounded. The floral scent was gone. No pain, no darkness.
My phone rang, a shrill, insistent sound. The screen lit up with a date. It was the day my college admission results were announced.
I wasn' t dead. I was back. Five Years Too Late, Ryan
Nero Daniels My daughter Lily hadn't seen her father in five years, so her joyful cry of "Daddy!" echoed through the sterile mansion as she ran to him.
But his eyes were not for her.
Jessica Hayes, his "one true love," stood beside him, her feigned trip and cry sending him into a panic.
He scooped her up, his face contorted with concern, then shot a venomous look at our innocent five-year-old.
"Lock her in the master bedroom closet. Three days. No food."
My blood ran cold.
"Ryan, no! Please, you can't!"
"She has asthma, Ryan. She'll suffocate!"
He scoffed, accusing me of lies and manipulative ploys.
The guards, impervious to my pleas, ripped Lily from my arms.
"Mommy! Mommy, I'm sorry!" she shrieked, carried away.
That night, her terrified cries faded to desperate whimpers.
"Please, Mommy... can't... breathe..."
I pounded on the door until my fists were raw, screaming for them to let her out.
The whimpers stopped.
The closet door opened.
Lily lay there, blue, not moving, not breathing.
Unconscious from lack of oxygen.
The ambulance siren wailed as I sank to the waiting room floor.
My phone buzzed.
It was Instagram.
Jessica Hayes, pouting in a hospital bed with a tiny scratch.
Her caption: "Mr. Peterson is so generous! I only scraped my knee and he gave me two luxury apartments as compensation. I guess I'll forgive you now~"
Geotagged from a luxury hospital across town.
Where our daughter wasn't.
He gifted her apartments for a scraped knee, while our child suffocated.
A cold numbness spread through me.
"Grandma," I whispered, bowing my head to Mrs. Peterson.
"Love cannot be forced. Please... let him be with Jessica. I just want to take Lily and leave."
My fresh wounds throbbed, tears mixing with blood.
I showed her the post, the address of our marital home given away.
Mrs. Peterson's face blazed with fury.
"That scoundrel! That worthless boy!"
"Call that bastard and tell him to get his ass to this hospital immediately!"
But it was too late.
If Grandma's scolding worked, Lily would never have been locked in that closet. A Husband’s Rage, A Wife’s Betrayal
Emma My life with Olivia Hayes was the dream I' d chased since I was a boy.
We had it all: a sprawling house I designed, two beautiful children, Lily and Leo, and a brilliant wife.
Then, on a Tuesday night during the worst blizzard in fifty years, our perfect world shattered when Olivia, in a fit of rage, locked our three-year-old twins outside in their thin pajamas.
I begged, I pleaded, I offered myself in their place, but she only sneered, shoving me back as she dragged my screaming children into the snow, the lock clicking behind them.
Trapped in the basement, I heard their cries fade, replaced by a terrifying silence.
When the door finally opened in the morning, Olivia stood perfectly dressed, while my children lay huddled outside, two frozen, broken dolls.
"She murdered them," ran through my head, but her mother, Mrs. Hayes, urged silence, whispering of shock and family reputation.
Then Olivia' s cold, businesslike voice on the phone: "Did you talk to Ethan? Is he going to be reasonable? I have a board meeting in an hour… tell him the family will compensate him generously. He can name his price."
And then, casually, asking about Marcus, her COO.
The realization hit me: this wasn' t just about old family hatred; it was about him, and her calculating indifference.
Days later, at our home, Marcus Green, her lover, stood in what used to be my children' s playroom, ordering workers to trash their toys as he gloated, "Olivia is pregnant, you know. My child, this time. A real heir.\"
He called my children' s precious belongings "garbage," announcing their baby would be in Lily and Leo's room.
My heart, a dead stone for days, exploded into white-hot rage, and I lunged.
As I held a crumpled drawing of our once-perfect family, Olivia returned, unimpressed, dismissing their belongings as "just stuff" and their deaths as "an accident."
"It' s bad luck to have things from the dead in the house when you' re expecting," she said, protecting her belly.
As I was forcibly restrained, watching them empty my children' s lives into garbage bags, I knew then what I had to do.
I signed the divorce papers, disconnected my number, and vanished, leaving her to face the desolate silence of a house where I would never return. His Annoyance, My Awakening
Fonz Nadherny The last thing I remembered was the grinding sound of machinery, a symphony of six years in our small town, now a city death knell.
My children, Lily and Tom, were so excited to visit their father Michael' s new, successful factory.
"They've missed Michael so much, Ava. Let them go see him. He's just inside." Sarah, Michael's brother's widow, whispered, her arm around my shoulder, her voice a sweet poison.
I watched them run ahead, their small figures disappearing through the massive doorway, believing their father was building a better life for us.
They didn' t know the truth: Michael had left us for Sarah, taking our factory severance pay to build his new life with her and her children.
Then I saw Sarah' s real smile-sharp, cold. She pushed an unsecured metal cart. A klaxon blared. Two screams, cut short by a sickening crunch, a spray of red. My world ended.
Michael stood over me, his face filled with chilling annoyance, not grief.
"Well, that's that, then," he said, flatly. "Saves me the trouble and expense of a divorce, I guess."
He glanced at the machinery. "They were just baggage anyway, Ava. Holding me back."
His words annihilated my soul, a physical force squeezing the breath from me. The world turned gray, then black. I died on that cold, greasy floor.
And then, I gasped. I was in my cramped bedroom, sunlight filtering through the grimy window. A calendar on the wall marked the day the factory closed. Lily and Tom sat on the rug, whole and alive.
"Mommy?" Lily asked, her big brown eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?"
Tears streamed down my face. I clung to them, inhaling their scent. I was back.
The memory of their deaths, of Michael's monstrous words, was burned into my mind. Grief remained, a hot knot of agony, but something cold, hard, and sharp solidified beside it.
Revenge. Michael. Sarah. You will pay. I will tear down your world, piece by piece, and I will make you feel every ounce of the agony you gave me.
This was not a second chance at happiness. It was a second chance at justice. The Price of a Perfect Angel
Maui The cold steel of a knife slid between my ribs, and the last thing I remember was the shock on my best friend Wendy' s face – not that I was dying, but that she needed the perfect angle for her livestream.
She narrated my demise, blaming me for trying to sleep with a trucker, her voice sickly excited as notifications pinged with hateful comments like "Serves her right" and "Stupid slut."
I died on the dirty floor of a truck cabin, my blood pooling around me, smeared as a whore, utterly betrayed by the person I trusted most.
My last breath was a gasp of disbelief, wondering how I could have been so blind to her jealousy and malice.
Then, I gasped again, only this time the air was clean, not thick with diesel and blood, and I was back in my law firm's breakroom, staring at a saccharine-smiling Wendy, who was about to propose the very trip that led to my murder. ENRAGED SOUL
otu Harriet Laura was a bold, courageous, gorgeous, intelligent young lady who always stood out for herself. She always fought for her right and never allowed anyone to look down on her , her family nor her friends.
She was known as the most brilliant and talented student in her class. This irritated some of her mates and led to the plot of her attack to tame her.
" Hold her, let's see how her intelligence works this time...", Ben exclaimed, landing a huge slap on her cheek.
Patrick and Fred held her tightly, chuckling and teasing.
They molested and bullied her until she passed out.
" Wait, Ben, I think we killed her....", Fred cried
" Shut up, what do you know? She's just doing that to scare us...."
" No, Ben...I think he's right...we killed her..."
" Oh, my God...what should we do..."
Join me on this journey while we find out what they did to her body and the outcome of their action.
ENRAGED SOUL;The revenge of a traumatized girl My Family's Faith, My Bloody Fate
Landslide It started on the one-year anniversary of my return, a day meant for joy.
Instead, my family, devout and God-fearing, brutally murdered me.
My brother, my protector, became a "defiler" screaming monster, my father, a man of God, cut off my hand with a rusty saw, and my mother, once overjoyed, called me an "abomination."
They threw my bleeding body into a silo, sealing the hatch, and as I died, I only had one question: Why?
It was the locket. The small, carved wooden locket my sister, Esther, had given me moments before, a "welcome home" gift that instantly turned my loving family into rabid killers.
Somehow, I woke up. It' s the same day, the same anniversary. Esther is coming up the stairs, the locket in her hand, about to give me the gift that will trigger their bloodlust again.
This time, I refuse. But Esther is cunning, and soon, I'm dodging my family's crazed attacks, desperately trying to expose their dark beliefs to the authorities. They look at me like I' m simply a troubled girl with an overzealous family.
Knowing the law won't stop their fanaticism, I have no choice but to use their own twisted faith against them, no matter the cost, to finally break free. I Tamed the Monster He Sent
Luo Chengfeng The last thing I saw was Thunder’s bloodied jaws, closing in on me.
My daughter, Sophia, lay broken a few feet away, already gone.
Pain, then darkness.
Then, with a gasp, I bolted upright, my heart hammering like a drum.
I was back on the same rough porch, facing the same smug smirk of Old John.
At the end of his chain was Thunder, the Australian Cattle Dog who had butchered my child and me.
“Heard you were back in town, Isabella,” Old John rasped, his voice a cruel mockery of a welcome.
“Brought you a little housewarming gift,” he added, pulling the chain as Thunder whined, straining to reach me, just like that first time.
The memory crashed over me: Thunder’s lunge, the searing agony as his teeth tore my thigh, the hot gush of blood, and then, Sophia’s petrified screams followed by chilling silence as he turned to her.
Old John had known my paralyzing fear of dogs, yet he had specifically brought this hulking beast to torment me.
He had laughed when I pleaded, ignoring the danger, using the dog as his personal weapon.
Every horrifying detail, every agonizing moment of Sophia’s brutal death and my own demise, flooded my mind with chilling clarity.
But this time, as Thunder lunged forward once more, I forced my trembling legs to stop.
No. Not again.
This time, things would be different. 
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