The silence in the master bedroom was deafening after the call ended. I held the phone against my chest, feeling the steady, rhythmic beat of my heart for the first time in three years. For thirty-six months, I had shrunk myself to fit into Spencer Reed’s world. I had worn modest clothes, stayed out of the spotlight, and endured his subtle condescension—all because I wanted a simple life away from my father’s overwhelming legacy. I wanted to be loved for me, not for the Harrell name.

The rain fell in heavy torrents as Phoebe’s sedan pulled up to the remote cabin at Lake Crest. The forest surrounding the lake was pitch black, saved only by the occasional flash of lightning illuminating the tall pine trees.

Phoebe parked fifty yards away, leaving the engine running. She stepped out into the pouring rain, pulling her coat tight around her shoulders.

The cabin door was slightly ajar. A dim light flickered from the living room window.

Phoebe approached the porch carefully, her hand gripped firmly around the taser in her pocket.

"Spencer?" she called out, her voice cutting through the sound of the rain.

She pushed the door open. The cabin smelled of damp wood, old dust, and cheap liquor.

Standing by the unlit fireplace was Spencer.

He looked unrecognizable. His once-immaculate hair was matted and wild, his eyes were bloodshot, and his clothes were wrinkled and stained. On the wooden table beside him rested the small silver lockbox that belonged to Phoebe's mother.

"You actually came," Spencer whispered, a hollow, terrifying laugh escaping his lips. "You really care about this useless trash more than you ever cared about me."

"Give me the box, Spencer," Phoebe said calmly, remaining near the doorway. "It's over. You've lost. Don't make this worse for yourself."

"Lost?!" Spencer roared, slamming his glass of whiskey onto the table, shattering it. "I lost everything because of you! You lied to me! You acted like a weak, helpless pathetic woman for three years when you had the key to the kingdom in your back pocket!"

"I didn't lie to you, Spencer," Phoebe said, her voice dropping to a icy whisper. "I never hid who I was. You just never cared enough to ask. You were so consumed by your own ego that you only saw what you wanted to see."

Spencer took a step toward her, his face contorted in rage. "I made you my wife! I gave you a roof over your head!"

"You made me a prisoner in your house while you paraded other women around!" Phoebe countered fiercely. "You thought humiliating me would make you feel powerful. But you forgot one thing, Spencer: you only had power because I chose to let you have it."

Spencer sneered, reaching behind his back. "Well, let's see how powerful your family is when they find out what happens to you tonight."

He pulled out a heavy steel crowbar, raising it dangerously.

"If I'm going to prison," Spencer hissed, stepping toward her, "I'm going to make sure you suffer first!"

Phoebe didn't flinch. She pulled the taser from her pocket and aimed it directly at his chest.

"Don't do it, Spencer."

Spencer laughed insanely. "A tiny toy? You think that frightens me?!"

He lunged forward with the crowbar raised above his head.

BZZZZZZZZT!

Phoebe fired. The two metal prongs struck Spencer square in the chest, delivering fifty thousand volts of electricity.

Spencer screamed as his muscles locked instantly. The crowbar flew from his grip, clattering across the floor, and he collapsed onto his knees, twitching violently before slumping onto the hardwood floor.

Phoebe stepped forward, her heart pounding, but her hand completely steady. She picked up her mother’s lockbox from the table and held it close to her chest.

Looking down at the writhing man on the floor, she felt no anger—only pity.

"You were wrong, Spencer," she said softly over the sound of thunder shaking the cabin. "Humiliating me wasn't the end of the story. It was just the opening chapter."

Outside, sirens wailed in the distance.

Red and blue lights flashed through the cabin windows as six police cruisers and two Harrell security vehicles pulled into the driveway.

Harrison rushed through the front door with his weapon drawn, followed by a team of officers.