Chapter 1

On college move-in day, I ran into the ex-husband I hadn't seen in over ten years.

Richard Stephens rolled down his car window. The scar on his wrist was half-hidden under a string of beads I knew too well.

He took off his sunglasses and stared at me, a little stunned.

"Louise Coleman, you got out of prison and didn't come find me?"

I pulled my collar tighter and turned my head away from his eyes.

"Sir, where's the luggage you need moved?"

He paused a few seconds, then popped the trunk. I walked to the back of the car and counted the pieces.

"Big ones are seventy, small ones forty-five, five pieces total, I'll make it three-twenty for you."

Richard blinked as I held out the payment code with practiced ease.

The chime for five hundred dollars had barely finished when a voice came from behind me.

"Dad, is the mover here yet? Mom and I have been waiting inside for you forever."

I heard the familiar young voice behind me and my head dropped on its own.

I hurried to the back of the car and lifted the cases down one by one.

But as I straightened up, a tearing pain shot through me below the waist.

"Why is there suddenly a stink of piss? What are you doing?"

A hand pressed down on my shoulder and forced me around.

…

The instant I met Hannah Stephens's eyes,

something flickered across them, blank for a moment.

Then her brow knit and she looked me up and down,

and finally she stared at me with disgust.

"Ma'am, at your age, coming out to work like this. Could you not make life miserable for everyone else?"

I stepped back several paces,

my fingers tightening on the long coat, washed pale from wear.

My daughter was the same as before,

still fond of pink dresses.

But when she looked at me,

the way she used to lean on me as a child was long gone. All that was left was strange, cold distaste.

A woman came up behind Richard and looked over.

The moment Jacqueline Holland saw my face, she froze where she stood.

She didn't come back to herself until my daughter looped an arm around hers.

Jacqueline glanced at me,

then smoothed the crease from my daughter's frowning brow as if it were nothing.

"Hannah, don't frown over people who don't matter. You'll ruin your face."

Then she looked at me, taunting.

Richard pressed his lips together, stepped forward, and opened his mouth.

I lowered my eyes, stepped back, and bowed deeply, several times.

Swallowing the bitterness in my throat, I said in a hoarse voice,

"I'm sorry. I'll take care of it and be right back."

As soon as the words were out, I fled toward the restroom like I was running from something.

I changed into one of the disposable diapers I always kept in my pocket, then came out.

Jacqueline strolled over from the doorway, her red lips parting.

"Long time no see. Being despised by the daughter you nearly died giving birth to, that doesn't feel good, does it?"

The corner of her brow lifted, just slightly.

That familiar expression brought back the cold operating table.

Jacqueline had only been an intern back then, but with Richard's consent, she'd walked into my delivery room and taken the knife to me herself.

After the surgery, because she'd handled it wrong, I was left with severe postpartum incontinence.

And because I refused, over and over, to sign the release,

Richard spent a fortune on a team of lawyers and, with a single filing, sent me to prison.

The charge, of all things, was deliberately harming my own daughter.

The day they took me away, I was still nursing my daughter in my arms.

I stood, straightened my clothes, and walked away.

"Louise, prison couldn't have been too boring, could it? Bet plenty of people came around to play with you."

The airy voice drifted up behind me, and I froze in place.

Slowly I turned to look at Jacqueline.

She was fussing with her false lashes in the mirror, and through the glass she gave me a smug smile.

So every bit of the abuse I'd taken those five years came from her. Without thinking, my fingers went to the raised scar across my throat.

Beaten by the others in there, I'd thought about ending it more times than I could count.

Knocked unconscious, I'd wake up every time in a hospital bed, then be sent back to that cold cage where there was never any peace.

I pulled my thoughts back and stopped looking at her.

I walked quickly to my spot and pulled up the handle of the suitcase.

The moment I lifted it, a hand slammed down on the back of mine.

The force came out of nowhere, leaving my hand numb.

"This suitcase was brought back from overseas by my mom, just for me. If you break it, can you even afford to pay for it?"

I looked up, and the impatience in my daughter's eyes swept over me like a rising tide.

Behind her, Richard's brow drew together slightly.

"Hannah, don't—"

Jacqueline slid up behind him, took his arm, and said with a faint smile,

"Hannah's grown up now. She knows her own limits. It's perfectly normal for her not to want a stranger breaking her things."

"As her parents, we should just let her be."

Richard listened, then turned to me at once, his tone impatient.

"What are you standing there for? Don't hold up my child's move-in."

My fingertips tightened, and inside I gave a bitter laugh.

Slowly I crouched down, carefully hoisted the suitcase onto my thin shoulder, and forced myself up.

The moment I stood, my back kept tipping backward, unstoppable.

An instant before I hit the ground, a pair of hands, hard enough to bruise my back, caught me solidly.

"Mom."