His Love, Her Prison, Their Son

e locked in a rehabilitation center, telling the wor

t thing he did was swerve his car directly at me,

ocked me in a dog kennel. He forced me to kowtow to my "dead" sister's portrait until my head bled

herous business partner for the n

of hell were all part of her sick game. And when my little brother Aspen, my only reaso

ched him die a

art, I threw myself from a hospital wi

of my release. The warden's voice was flat.

iting. To drag him, and everyone

pte

e designed to erase people. For five years, it had been my world. The walls were bare,

. The clothes I wore, a loose-fitting uniform, hung on my bony frame. They were a constant reminder that I was

I was accused of killing my stepsister, Kinsley Alexander. He told the world it w

ont of me was a framed photograph of Kinsley, smiling. This was my daily ritual, my forced

ed and twenty-five days.

ke the silence. The warden

n. You're bei

elease? The word felt

as arranged it.

e me. The man everyone saw as a devout, compassionate saint for not divorcing the woman who

the devil who had meticulo

to see a friendly face, a family member, anyone. But the curb was empty. M

instructions. He said you are to continue your pe

ey. A cold dread washed over me. The prison wa

at me with open contempt as he held the door. The ride back to the mansion I once called home was silent. T

spers like the hissing of snakes. They l

final

. She looks

. A woman like that sho

single thread of hope. A promise I m

mine, "no matter what happens, you must prot

reason I had endured the last five years

and walked toward the grand staircas

ed just in time to see a silver sports car swerve directly toward me, its

had been standing. My knees were scraped raw, and my heart hammered against my ribs. I instinctively checked the photograph in my

r door

five years ago: impossibly handsome, with an air of cold piety that captivated everyone he met. His eyes, the

e had tried t

ears coiled in my stomach, suffocating me. This man was

old Courtland Johnson. I had changed everything about myself for him. I softened my edges,

ur wedding day was the happiest of my life. I

ied, and my wo

, bruised and trembling,

voice a raw whisper. "Court

eled form with disgust. He stopped right in front of

tasia." His voice was low and smooth, the sam

ngle word tearing from my

all, sharp gesture to the two large bod

humility," he said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

my arms. Their g

, turning his back on me as if I were nothing

as going to lock

throat. "No! Cour

leas echoing unanswered in