Chapter 1 - The Shattered Porcelain
Carrying my eight-month pregnancy felt like an unbearable weight as I held a scalding porcelain bowl, forced to serve like a maid in my own home.
My husband, Richard, casually stroked his mistress's leg while barking an order: "Serve Jessica first, Sarah. She had an exhausting day trying on wedding gowns."
Jessica smirked: "Be careful. This dress costs more than your entire miserable life."
A sharp contraction suddenly seized my abdomen. My grip slipped, sending hot soup splashing across her silk skirt. Jessica shrieked. Richard lunged to his feet, eyes wild with fury. He hurled a crystal glass at my feet, the shards scattering across the hardwood, before violently dragging me down by my hair.
The sickening sound of leather sliding through metal loops chilled the air as Richard pulled off his heavy belt.
CRACK!
The metal buckle struck my shoulder with agonizing force. Around the table, his aristocratic family continued their dinner, sipping wine in cruel indifference.
"Know your place, you worthless vessel!" Richard snarled, raising his arm to strike again.
In that fraction of a second, the final thread of my restraint snapped. The pain flared, but the terror evaporated into an icy, oceanic calm. I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I pushed myself up, looking directly into Richard’s eyes—the gaze of someone looking at a dead man—and walked away into the freezing garage.
Ignoring his furious roars behind me, I unlocked a hidden steel box behind old crates and pulled out an encrypted burner phone. Richard always believed I was an isolated, helpless orphan. He had no idea my twin brothers were elite black-ops commanders who would burn the world to ashes for me.
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I dialed a single, memorized number. On the second ring, a lethal, gravelly voice cut through the silence: "Little sister, who hurt you?"
Inside, that cruel, wealthy family was still smugly laughing over their dinner, completely oblivious to the sheer horror about to descend upon them in just ten minutes.
