The bodyguards shoved me onto the doorstep, pressing me to the ground with unyielding force. Cohen’s voice rang out, cold and commanding.
“Make her kneel here. Let her think about what she’s done. If she’s unwell or the baby can’t handle it, have the doctor watch her. She stays down until she understands her mistake.”
I didn’t fight back. I knelt, my spine stiff as if made of steel, my body anchored at the threshold of the house.
The housekeeper, who had watched me grow up, couldn’t bear the sight of me like this. She approached, her voice soft and concerned. “Don’t be so stubborn, just apologize to Cohen, it’s not worth this.”
She didn’t understand. This wasn’t about being stubborn with Cohen. It was about holding on to the last shred of dignity I had left.
I don’t know how long I knelt there, the world a blur of pain and anger, until a bodyguard thrust a phone into my hands. “It’s from Cohen.”
The screen lit up, displaying a message from him.
[From today until the wedding, you’re not allowed to leave the house.]
[Imogen and I are going to Canada. Stay home and behave until I return.]
He meant to imprison me.
I couldn’t help but feel tremors in my hands as I dialed his number, demanding answers. The call connected after several attempts, but the voice that answered wasn’t Cohen’s.
"Mm—"
"Cohen, stop it. Your sister is calling."
"Hang up."
The words on the other end of the line were laced with an intimacy that made my heart sink. Imogen’s breathless moans mixed with Cohen’s cold, commanding voice, shattering any courage I might have had to confront him.
What I didn’t realize, lost in the haze of my mind, was that an unfamiliar number had been calling me repeatedly. Dozens of missed calls I had failed to notice.
The paint coating my body was starting to make me dizzy. The chill of the near-freezing air bit at my soaked skin as I knelt on the ground, trapped in a frozen eternity. The wind cut through me like a thousand knives, but it didn’t compare to the deeper wound Cohen had left in my heart.
At last, I couldn’t hold on.
Just as I felt myself slipping, unsure if it was the cold or my mind playing tricks, I felt warmth, a real, comforting embrace.
It wasn’t the sharp, cold grip I knew from Cohen. This one was gentle, and it didn’t just steady me; it melted away the cold that had seeped deep into my bones.
[I finally found you.]
[I won’t let anyone hurt you again.]