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He said goodbye and hung up, leaving Bella in the seemingly endless quiet of her room. She gawked at her phone. Beating heart, spinning brain. How did things become so bad in her life? How could a fierce and determined woman like her be reduced to a marionette who is danced by a sadistic man who fed on her anguish?

She fell in a heap at the foot of the bed and buried her face in her palms. Fred was in trouble because of her, and there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t even reach out to him; she couldn’t even counsel him without bringing Daniel’s fury down on her. The powerlessness, the horror—it was too much.

A moment later, she lowered her head again, and then, something resolute seemed to incubate in her eyes, freezing the blood. No longer would she be a piece on Daniel’s chessboard, would he dictate her life? She could not approach Fred, nor sacrifice his safety, yet there was no need to remain a mere spectator in Daniel’s play.

There had to be a way to overreach Da