Chapter 1 - Accidents Happen Up Here
Derek threw the coffee before I finished saying no.
The white mug left his hand from across the marble kitchen island, spinning once in the bright morning light before it struck the counter edge and exploded.
Hot coffee splashed across my face, hair, shoulder, and robe.
The heat hit so fast my body reacted before my mind could name the pain.
I stumbled backward, one hand gripping the counter, the other flying to my cheek. Coffee soaked through the pale cream satin nightdress beneath my robe and ran down my collarbone in burning streaks.
Suzanne smiled.
That was the first thing I saw when my vision cleared.
My husband’s sister stood beside the breakfast table in a fitted red dress and a designer coat she could not afford, one hand wrapped around a luxury handbag she had bought with money she did not earn.
She looked pleased.
Not shocked.
Not horrified.
Pleased.
Derek stood on the other side of the island in his pale-blue dress shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, expensive watch catching the light, jaw locked in the clean, controlled way that had fooled everyone but me by then.
“Give Suzanne the card,” he said, “or give me the apartment.”
Behind him, his mother Margaret sat near the balcony doors, cream pantsuit smooth, pearl necklace centered, styled blonde-gray hair untouched by the chaos her son had created.
She lifted her coffee cup as if mine had not just shattered at my feet.
“Skylar,” she said coldly, “you’re making this much uglier than it needs to be.”
I stared at her.
“My face is burning.”
Margaret’s mouth tightened.
“Then stop being dramatic and sign.”
Sign.
That word had been living inside our apartment for weeks.
On folders.
On sticky notes.
In Derek’s late-night conversations behind closed doors.
On the forged transfer documents Suzanne kept calling “family protection papers.”
I had bought the apartment before the wedding.
Fourteenth floor.
Luxury tower.
Floor-to-ceiling balcony windows looking out over the city.
White kitchen.
Open living room.
Warm morning light.
A place that had once felt like proof I had survived enough to own something peaceful.
Now it felt like a stage built for my disappearance.
I reached for my smartphone on the counter.
Derek moved faster.
He snatched it from my hand and slammed it onto the marble floor.
Once.
Hard.
The screen cracked across the center.
Then he stepped on it with his polished shoe until the glass spiderwebbed beneath his heel.
“Derek,” I whispered.
He leaned close, voice low.
“You don’t need a phone. You need a pen.”
Suzanne collected the unsigned transfer papers from the table and slipped them into a folder.
I forced my voice steady even though my cheek throbbed and my shoulder burned.
“That home was mine before I met you.”
Derek’s eyes changed.
Only for a second.
Not anger.
Hatred.
The kind of hatred that comes when someone realizes you remember what belongs to you.
He walked around the island and grabbed my jaw with one hand.
Not long.
Just enough.
His fingers pressed into my skin, turning my face toward the balcony windows and the skyline beyond them.
“Sign within two hours,” he said. “Accidents happen up here.”
My stomach went cold.
Suzanne looked away.
Margaret did not.
May you like
That was how I knew this was not Derek losing control.
This was a plan reaching its next step.
