Prologue
One Month Earlier
“Why are the flowers in the vase crooked? I told you to take care of it.”
“I will as soon as I’m done washing the dishes,” Amy replied without looking over her shoulder.
She continued to run her fingers under the hot water, marveling at how it felt against her cool skin. Then she heard his footsteps inch closer, and her heart skipped a beat. When he was close enough for her to smell the overpowering stench of his musky cologne, Amy’s stomach clenched in fear, and she resisted the urge to turn around.
Because she knew what was waiting for her if she did.
His large hand came down on her shoulder, and Amy winced, her breath hitching in her throat. “When I tell you to take care of something, I expect it to get done.”
Slowly, Amy twisted to face her husband, every last inch of her recoiling at his touch.
Even after decades of enduring his wrath, she still couldn’t wrap her head around it or reconcile herself to it.
It felt more and more like she built her whole life around him, only to find out their foundation was made of cards.
Amy took a step back, and Eric’s hand fell from her shoulder, giving her a momentary sense of relief. She reached for the rag to wipe her hands and hide the tremor. “I’ll get to it.”
Eric’s dark eyes tightened. “How hard is it to arrange a vase of flowers?”
Amy pretended to still wipe her hands. “It’s not hard at all, but there are other things that need taking care of.”
Every day, she had a long list of chores, and each day, the list felt endless, like no matter how much she chipped away at it, she was never going to be done. And her husband, the great and incomparable Eric Taylor, had never been one to lend a hand. Since the day she met him, he’d been very clear about the kind of woman he was looking for as a wife, and she’d done her best to accommodate him at every turn.
Through every hurled insult, every disapproving look, and all of the times he’d belittled her in front of people, Amy had borne it all with as much grace and dignity as she could muster because she thought she didn’t have any other choice. Since she was a little girl, it had been drilled into her, this need to obey and please, and her husband was no different.
It was why, at seventy-one, she had no job of her own and very little in the way of a life outside of her husband and children.
Why wasn’t any of it ever good enough for Eric?
Why was she always racing to stay one step ahead of his needs?
Eric folded his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, how difficult it must be for you. To have nothing else to do but sit around and play house all day.”
Amy swallowed past the surge of fear rising steadily through her and making her stomach tighten further. “Eric, darling, please, I—”
Eric let one hand fall to his side, and he held the other hand up. “Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it. You’ve been distracted, unorganized, and sloppy for weeks now, and I’ve been patient and understanding, but this is getting ridiculous.”
Amy’s mouth fell open in surprise.
Her husband was many things: ambitious, driven, and charming when he wanted to be, but kind and considerate were most definitely not qualities she associated with him. As she stood there, across from him in their airy and open, tile-floored kitchen with several brand-new appliances that still gleamed, Amy found herself struggling to remember the last time Eric had said anything kind. The longer she stood there, struggling to formulate a response, the worse she felt about everything.
Eric hadn’t so much as given her a proper smile in years.
And she couldn’t recall the last time he’d come home in a good mood and swept her into his arms or taken her out for a dinner that wasn’t related to his business. Most days, she barely even set eyes on him unless he was looking for her to complain about something or other.
Abruptly, Amy snapped her mouth shut and curled her hands into fists at her side.
Eric’s eyes tightened further. “And now you’re daydreaming again. Am I boring you, Amy?”
She held herself erect and hid her hands behind her back. “No.”
Eric took a step in her direction, and she could smell the alcohol on him, reeking and pungent. “So, what is it, then? You were too tired? You forgot? What pitiful excuse are you going to give me this time?”
Amy’s heart was pounding in her ears now as her mind raced to come up with an excuse.
