Chapter 1Better to Part Like Strangers

Two years after my husband vanished, presumed dead, I sold everything for his mother's medical bills. It wasn't enough. On the day of her funeral, he returned. Seeing the sales contracts and her urn, he didn't look at me with love, but with pure hatred. "I gave you my world, Sarah. The moment I was gone, you sold everything and let my mother die alone."

He never let me explain. The man I knew died that day, replaced by a cold playboy. He spent lavishly on other women but wouldn't spare a dollar for the medicine I needed. When I was diagnosed, I bought myself a simple urn with my last money. He laughed and gave it to his new girlfriend for her dog's water bowl. Seeing that, I didn't break. I smiled. He looked confused. "Tired of playing the victim? Trying a new tactic?" he sneered.

…

A ripple of laughter went through the room from his latest conquest. I just shook my head, my smile never wavering.

"No," I said, my voice calm and clear. "I'm just grateful. You've finally allowed my heart to die completely. Now I can leave with no attachments."

Hearing that, Declan’s gaze turned to ice.

"Leave?" He scoffed. "Sarah, you're an orphan. You have no one. You've only survived this long because of me. Without me, without the Blackwood name, where could you possibly go?"

I listened to his contemptuous words and felt nothing. I offered no defense. I simply turned and walked toward the small, forgotten room he'd relegated me to, the one he used for storage.

As I reached the door, a searing pain ripped through my lungs. I stumbled, gripping the doorframe, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood to keep from coughing.

Behind me, his girlfriend’s voice dripped with saccharine poison. "Declan, darling, look at her. She’s such a mess, it's depressing. Let's just go upstairs and watch a movie."

Declan let out an impatient sigh. "Fine. Let's go. Don't let her ruin the evening."

Their footsteps faded as they headed upstairs. I shuffled into the small room, each step an agony. I collapsed onto the old, lumpy mattress, curling into a ball as pain radiated through me. It felt like my bones were being pulled apart and crudely snapped back together. Every movement was a fresh wave of torture.

There was no point in asking him for help again. I'd tried, just last week. The pain had been unbearable, and I had dragged myself into the living room where he was lounging on the sofa, feeding slices of mango to his flavor of the week.

"Declan," I’d hesitated, my voice barely a whisper. "I'm in so much pain. Could you… could you spare some money for painkillers?"

He’d glanced up, a mocking smirk on his face. "Faking an illness for attention again? Sarah, you've played this card a thousand times. Can't you come up with something new?"

The girl beside him giggled, covering her mouth. "Declan, I think she's just jealous seeing us so happy. She's trying to make you feel sorry for her."

Declan pulled out his wallet, peeled off a thick wad of cash, and threw it on the floor.

"You want money? There it is. Kneel and pick it up. Every bill you grab is yours."

I didn't kneel. I just swallowed the pain and the humiliation, turned around, and walked back to my storage room.

From that day on, I never asked him for another cent.

As night deepened, the pain intensified until I couldn't bear it. I fumbled under the mattress for my savings.

Seventy-three dollars and fifty cents.

It was all I had left, scraped together from the meager food budget I allowed myself. I hadn't eaten a proper meal in days. Swallowing solid food was like swallowing glass, so I’d been living on thin broth, just enough to keep me alive.

Seventy-three dollars and fifty cents. Not even enough for a single dose of the good painkillers.

Just then, I heard footsteps outside my door, followed by the sound of laughter. I quickly shoved the small bundle of cash back under the bed and curled up in the corner, feigning sleep.

It was Tiffany's cloying voice. "Declan, is that sick little thing still here? Isn't she just taking up space?"

Declan's voice was laced with annoyance. "Let her stay. It's not like she can do anything."

Tiffany whined, "But I don't like her. Having her around just gives me the creeps."

Declan chuckled, his tone shifting to one of indulgence. "Shh, baby. Just ignore her. Let's go upstairs."

But she wasn't done. "No, I mean it! I'm bringing my dog over tomorrow, and I don't want her scaring him."

Declan sighed, a sound of weary surrender. "Alright, alright, whatever you want. Bring the dog tomorrow. He can have the whole yard to himself."

Their voices and footsteps receded down the hall until there was only silence.

I knew he didn't really not care. He kept me here for a reason. He wanted to watch me suffer, to see me waste away in this dark corner like a stray dog. He wanted to see me broken and full of regret.

He was convinced I couldn't live without him, that I was clinging to the Blackwood family for money and status. He believed my entire life, my every action, was just a performance.