Chapter One
Romy
M y mind is a liar.
It’s been playing tricks on me since I was a little girl. I’ve learned not to trust it. To be suspicious of every thought and skeptical of every memory.
I’m on constant alert, always at odds with my overactive brain.
Is it lying to you now?
Yes.
Somehow, deep in the hollow cavity of my chest, I feel it. There’s an empty ache inside of me, begging me to remember.
Except, everything is perfect.
People with perfect lives don’t agonize over strange feelings. They give in to the goodness around them and don’t take a second for granted.
I’m married to a hardworking man, have an adorable and sassy daughter, and each day grow bigger with a new little one on the way. My home is immaculate, and my heart is happy.
Liar.
The pain in my chest intensifies to the point I wonder if I’m suffering from heartburn.
Stop lying to yourself, Romy. Think.
The only time I can really do my thinking is when Seth is at work. At one time, I hated the long hours he put in, but more and more lately, I’m grateful for them.
Something doesn’t add up with him.
I absently rub at the newest bruise on my wrist. Seth says I’m clumsy and always bumping into things. How come I can’t remember when I do? Why does this bruise feel and look like a thumbprint that is the exact size of his?
Your mind is tricking you, Romy. He’s a good husband. You’re making something out of nothing.
Am I, though?
As I fold towels, I get caught up staring at the giant picture above our fireplace. It’s a wedding photo of me and Seth. The funny thing is, I can’t remember it. I’m not sure when it even took place. I refuse to broach the topic again, though, because it puts Seth in a dark mood. Sometimes I feel like I’m disappointing him—like I’m not turning out the way he thought I should be. But the picture is perfect—too perfect—as though someone painted on our fake, smiling faces. It doesn’t feel authentic to me.
I peek in on Kaitlyn, happy to see she’s quietly playing with her dolls. Since it’s raining, she can’t go outside to play. As much as I love to entertain her, sometimes I need a break.
Tiptoeing back to my room, I do my best to dig through the dark, hidey holes of my brain. Surely I’ll remember something about our wedding. Was Dad there? Bastian?
A flash of anger ripples down my spine, making my skin burn hot.
Strange.
Why does it feel like I should be mad at them?
Because they haven’t come to visit you in months.
Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I saw them. It’s like there’s a cloud sitting in the middle of my head, fogging everything up.
This is not normal. A person should remember things like their family and when they saw them last.
Usually, I feel like I would ask Seth for help, but…
A sliver of a memory enters my brain. An argument. Being held down by my husband, hand covering my mouth, while we have sex. Bitterness coils in my gut and it has nothing to do with morning sickness.
I’m going to throw up.
Your mind lies, Romy. It’s probably lying now.
The fury gleaming in Seth’s eyes as he handcuffs me to our bed burns inside my skull. I didn’t dream that up. It’s real and it happened.
Why would he handcuff me?
Are we freaks in bed?
I shiver at the terrible threads of memories, knowing it has nothing to do with our sex life. There’s something far more sinister at work here. I just need to get to the bottom of it.
How?
I need more time to think.
My mind whirls as I put away the folded towels in our bathroom. After getting them neatly stacked in the closet, I stare at Seth’s sink, my whole body trembling with sudden disgust.
Red, curly pubic hair has been left in the sink. I should be grateful he’s manscaped for me, but right now, gratitude is far from my mind. Visceral hatred for my husband consumes me as I stare at the mess he’s left for me.
I’m his sex toy, his maid, his nanny.
The word nanny makes my skin crawl.
What’s going on with me today?
I’m toggling from disgust to anger to fear, unsure why these feelings are consuming me.
I wish I had someone to talk to.
I wish I had a friend.
Why don’t I have a friend?
Crossing my arms over my chest, I stare at the pube mess, scouring my mind for any recollection of having someone to confide in.
A brief flash of a puzzle teases my memories. There are two men there. Seth and Doc Junior?
No.
The memory isn’t from the lab where I always see those two together. It’s of two other men. I can’t see their faces, but I can almost hear them. Squeezing my eyes shut, I grasp at the whisper of a life I don’t remember.
Who are you?
Caius.
The name cuts into me like a blade—sharp, quick, precise. I’m left clutching my middle and stumbling out of the bathroom, gasping at the pain that’s filleting me from the inside out.
Who is this Caius?
The memory of saying his name comes to mind and then I remember Seth’s reaction. Hand over mouth, handcuffs, his phone.
What was his phone for?
I’d watched helplessly as he did something on the screen and then mind-numbing static crackled through my every nerve ending, chasing everything away except a blank quiet inside me.
My mind feels like a puzzle, but I’ve only been given a few colored pieces. The rest have been painted black, hiding in the shadows for me to find and put together.
They’re there. I just have to locate them.
How?
I have no way of researching into my past. No phone. No computer. No access to the outside world.
The puzzle pieces are slowly beginning to reveal themselves to me. It’s strange for a wife to be locked away at home with no interaction aside from her husband and child. What if I wanted to call my dad or brother or stepmom?
Eva.
I have another distinct memory of us sharing orange scones in our favorite café. And then there was a guy watching me. Who was the guy? Another man dragged him away? What happened next?
More blank holes where a life I used to know should be.
Maybe if I iron down what I do know, it’ll be easier to piece together what I don’t. So what do I know?
Dad and Bastian live in New York City. They run VEIL, a global media conglomerate. I come from a wealthy, well-known family. Eva is my stepmother, and I always secretly wished she were my actual mother.
Where’s my real mother?
Empty.
Nothing to see here, folks.
Irritation simmers in my veins. Again, I want to blame Seth and feel irrationally angry toward him.
Trust your instinct, Romy.
A quiet, urgent whisper of a feeling tells me to snatch Kaitlyn up and run. Why? Where would we go? How?
I have no phone, no car, no link to the outside world.
An enormous tidal wave of fear of the unknown threatens to drown me. I have a peculiar urge to rush into my closet, push apart my many dresses on the hangers, and to sit on the floor between endless pairs of shoes to hide from this growing monster of fear.
You can’t hide, Romy.
You have to protect Kaitlyn.
This I know deep in my soul. Kaitlyn is real to me. The love I have for her is real. If I were ever to leave Seth, she’s coming with me.
Leave?
I clutch my pregnant belly and attempt to shake off those terrible thoughts. Maybe I’m just feeling extra crazy like when I was a child. Seth is a good husband and father. There’s no reason why I would need to take Kaitlyn and run from him.
Right?
Right?!
The reassurance I hoped would wash over me has left me high and dry. Fear, visceral and consuming, plagues my every thought.
I’m afraid of Seth.
I feel it so deeply in the marrow of my bones, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to claw it out.
What does it mean?
How come I can’t remember why?
Persistence is key.
I’m going to crack the code of my mind and release the mysteries.
My sanity depends on it.
“What the hell, Romy?”
I blink my eyes open, confused at my surroundings. It’s then I realize I’m in my closet, sitting with my back against the wall, shivering against some unseen chill. Once I shake away my daze, I crawl out of the spot and exit the closet.
Kaitlyn’s cries can be heard from my bathroom. Terror wells up inside of me as I stumble toward her.
Inside, I find her holding his hand as he gestures forcefully at his sink. His mess from this morning remains untouched. Seeing the shiny red curls dusting the porcelain makes me turn green. I clutch my throat and gag.
“W-what’s going on?” I choke out, acid burning my throat. I force myself to look at him rather than the disgusting sink. “Why is she crying?”
Seth’s nostrils flare. “Her mom checked the fuck out, didn’t bother making her lunch or cleaning the house, and hid in the damn closet. She’s crying from neglect, Romy.”
Guilt punches me in the chest. “I’m sorry. I must’ve fallen asleep. Kaitlyn, honey—”
He lets go of her hand to snatch his phone out of his pocket, frustration evident in his jerky movements. I kneel down in front of my daughter, hugging her to me, apologizing profusely as she cries. Then, as if someone switched her off, she goes silent.
I pull away and meet her teary eyes. They’re no longer scrunched. She stares at me with a placid expression.
“That’s better,” Seth grumbles. “If only you weren’t defective, things would be perfect.”
His words sting, but I’m more concerned with what he’s done to Kaitlyn. Alarm bells are ringing in my head, but I can’t make sense of it. All I know is he’s responsible for her change in behavior.
“What did you do?” I demand, tilting my head up to look at him. “What did you do to her, Seth?”
“Go to your room, Kaitlyn,” he says, voice devoid of emotion. “Close the door. Me and Mommy have to talk.”
“Okay, Daddy,” she says with disinterest.
And then she tugs away from me like a little robot.
The hairs on my arms stand on end.
It takes some effort, but I manage to climb back to my feet. Seth watches me with a sneer on his freckly face.
He repulses me.
Not because of the way he looks or his pube mess in the sink…
It’s him.
There’s something disgusting about him that I can’t put my finger on. I have the urge to wretch, but I don’t want to be at a disadvantage around him.
Because you’re afraid.
There’s a reason, Romy.
“Clean that shit up,” he says icily, thrusting a finger at the sink. “I work my ass off all day. The least you could do is make sure when I come home, the house is clean and dinner is on the table. You’re a spoiled brat who has no consideration for the rest of her family.”
I lift my chin, emboldened by a spike of indignation. “I’m not your maid. Clean it yourself.”
He takes a menacing step toward me and I can’t help but cower. Seth isn’t an especially big man, but the mystery that shrouds him is what terrifies me. There’s a monster lurking beneath the typical friendly doctor grin. An evil, hateful monster.
Rather than scurrying away, I meet his gaze with a fiery one of my own. Once he’s so close my belly brushes against his, he reaches up to grip my chin. His hold is firm, not brutal, but I recoil from it nonetheless. He tightens his hold, and I wonder if he’ll leave bruises here too.
I want to spit in his face.
Why?
“You will clean the sink and then make me some damn dinner, love .” He smirks. “Or else.”
Or else what?
“I want to visit my family,” I say instead, trying not to tremble with fear. “I need a phone to make the arrangements.”
Pity shines in his eyes. “They don’t want you anymore. No one does. For some reason, I’m the only one who does.”
“I don’t believe you.” My eyes fill with tears.
“That’s because you’re fucking insane, Romy.” He presses a sloppy kiss to my lips and then pulls away. “You make every day of my life more difficult than the last.”
He taps on his phone screen again. A cold, numb feeling races from the back of my neck down to my toes. It’s trying to cloud my mind, too, but I think the anger and fear are too overpowering.
Whatever he did to Kaitlyn, he just tried to do to me.
But, unlike her, it didn’t work.
I’m not a mindless zombie.
Seth is still a monster.
I give him a blank look and then smile. “What would you like for dinner tonight, honey?”
His eyes narrow as if to seek out any untruths. I blink at him, seemingly unbothered. He relaxes slightly.
“I can order pizza,” he says, voice rough and tired.
“Whatever you want.” I flash him a warm grin. “Scoot along. I need to tidy up the bathroom.”
It takes impressive acting skills to approach this man and kiss him on the lips.
Luckily, he buys the lie.
For now.
While I clean up his pubes, I make a plan to escape.
Seth Portman is a bad man. I don’t know how I couldn’t see it before, but I know it to be true. I’ll have to keep my mind sorted long enough to execute said plan. Kaitlyn and my unborn child are counting on it.
I have to keep them safe.