I looked at the marble tiles, the custom shelving, the balcony facing the city lights. My late father had purchased this apartment in my name before Daniel ever entered my life. I had protected it before the marriage with a prenuptial agreement Daniel signed without reading, too dazzled by the skyline to bother asking questions.
Vivian’s smile sharpened. “What are you waiting for? Begging instructions?”
I picked up my phone.
Daniel smirked. “Calling your little friend to cry?”
“No,” I said, dialing emergency services. “I’m calling the police.”
His expression shifted, but only for a second.
Fifteen minutes later, their world started to collapse…
Part 2
Daniel recovered fast. Men like him always did. He laughed loudly, far too loudly, and poured himself more wine.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Tell them your husband got angry over soup. See who believes you.”
Soups& Stews
Vivian stood behind him like a queen mother watching a servant receive punishment. “And when they leave, pack your bags. I will not have police drama in my son’s home.”
I kept the phone pressed to my ear and my eyes fixed on Daniel. “My husband struck me across the face. I’m in my apartment. I need officers here now.”
The dispatcher asked whether I was safe.
