---- Chapter 9 The security guard returned, carrying a long, thin riding crop. It was black leather, elegant and cruel. My breath caught in my throat. The sight of it brought back a flood of memories, nightmares | had tried to bury. | turned to run, a primal instinct for survival taking over. But the other guard was already there, blocking my path. He grabbed my arm, his grip like a vise. "Hold her still," Ethan commanded, his voice as cold and sharp as a shard of ice. He took the whip from the first guard. "Since you seem determined to act like a wild animal, I'll treat you like one." The guard forced me to my knees, right there in the middle of the grand ballroom, under the glittering chandeliers and the shocked stares of the city's elite. My mind flashed back to another time, another humiliation. | was a child, and the school bullies had tied me to a tree, whipping my legs with switches until they bled. Ethan had found me then. He had cleaned my wounds, his touch so gentle, and he had made the bullies pay. He had been my savior. Now, he was the one holding the whip. | struggled against the guard's grip, a raw, guttural sound of protest tearing from my throat. ---- The crowd murmured, their voices a low, buzzing hum. "Is he really going to do it?" "She must have done something terrible to deserve that." "This is what happens when you cross aman like Vance." Olivia, nestled safely in Ethan's other arm, watched with wide, triumphant eyes. She even had the audacity to put on a show of mercy. "Ethan, darling, maybe that's too much," she whispered, her voice just loud enough for those nearby to hear. "She's been through a lot." "She needs to learn her place," Ethan said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. He looked down at me, his eyes empty. "I am the master of your life, Sarah. | give it, and | can take it away. | will not have you challenging me." | thought of his promises, whispered in the dark all those years ago. | will always protect you. | will build you a castle You will be my queen. He had built me a prison instead. He hadn't just wanted a wife; he wanted a puppet, a beautiful, mindless doll that existed only for him. The love he professed was just another word for control. The first lash of the whip was a searing line of fire across my back. | cried out, the sound sharp and wounded. He struck again, and again. The pain was immense, but it was nothing compared to the agony in my soul. With each blow, a piece of me died. The girl who had loved him, ---- the woman who had fought for him, the wife who had endured him. All of it burned away, leaving behind only a core of cold, hard resolve. When he was finished, he dropped the whip. It clattered on the marble floor. | was a trembling, broken heap, my silver dress stained with blood. | pushed myself up, my movements slow and stiff. | walked towards him, my head held high. "Am | allowed to leave now?" | asked, my voice a dead, emotionless whisper. For the first time that night, | saw a flicker of something in his eyes. A flash of pain, of regret. It was there for a second, and then it was gone, buried under layers of pride and arrogance. "Yes," he said, his voice tight. "Go." | turned and walked away, not looking back. This was it. My chance. Daniel was waiting for me, just outside the service entrance. | found him in the alley, his car idling. "Let's go," | said, my voice urgent. | didn't have to tell him what happened. The blood on my dress spoke for itself. He helped me into the car, his touch gentle. "| have everything ready," he said. "The new passport, the money, the plane ticket." ---- "There's something you need to do for me," | said, my voice shaking from pain and adrenaline. "He has to believe I'm dead. It's the only way." | explained my plan, the suicide note, the location. "Sarah..." he started, his face pale. "Please, Daniel," | begged. "It's the only way I'll ever be free. | can't live like this anymore. He'll hunt me forever if he thinks | just ran away. He has to believe I'm gone." He looked at me, at the desperation in my eyes, and he nodded. "I'll do it," he said, his voice firm. "For you. For your grandmother." As the car sped away from the city, away from the glittering prison | had called a home, | looked back one last time. | was leaving Sarah Miller behind, a ghost in a blood-stained silver dress. A new life was waiting for me. A life of freedom. A life without him.