Chapter 19

When we moved into Bitter House, Harold told me about the tunnels. Rumor has it, they once connected most of the houses in the city, and even to some businesses, banks, and the courthouse. Of course, the Bitters being one of the most prominent families in the city, they have firsthand knowledge of it all. Stories that have been passed down from father to son over years and years. A long time ago, they were used to take deposits from businesses to the banks without having to go through town. When Prohibition came, though it was never truly enforced in Nashville, alcohol was smuggled back and forth through the tunnels. Some of the tunnels were used to transfer dead bodies from the hospitals to the universities for research and study. And, of course, criminals used the tunnels for their own dirty deeds.

Eventually, most of the tunnel ends were sealed. Some paths were damaged or caved in throughout history, and plenty of areas became unsafe. But Bitter House’s remained in perfect condition. Quite handy for Harold and his friends to play in when they were younger and sneak out when they were older.

And, of course, they became quite convenient for me as well.

In public, women are often invisible, harmless, unless they’re drawing attention from the male gaze. But I was never invisible. Not as a young girl, not with the way I looked—it’s not bragging, I’m just honest. Not when I was older and married to one of the richest men in the city. And not now, now that I’m older, widowed, and an enigma.

So, traveling in secret is important. Secrets are the most powerful thing a woman owns.

It was the tunnels I used the first time Reggie hit me. And again the night I decided to do something about it. The ladies next door—Jane, Cate, and Lily—have become my closest confidants. When he hit me, I went to them. I have no idea why, even now when I think back on it. We weren’t friends. We’d hardly spoken more than a dozen words to each other since we became neighbors, but still…there was a knowing. Most women have it, though I wish it were all of us. A sense that we’re in this together. That it’s never been us against us, but always us against them.

So, I went to Jane first, who called Lily and Cate, and we formulated a plan. They helped me escape through the tunnels, get my most important possessions out, and then helped me hide away while we called the attorney to get the annulment drafted. My attorney told him we hadn’t been married long enough for him to claim any of the money in my name, so the measly check I offered him was enough to send him packing.

Of course, when I came back, the house was a mess. He’d destroyed things—priceless things. He’d torn paintings, stolen family heirlooms, broken tiles, and torn light fixtures from the walls. He’d taken a hammer to the dry wall and urinated in our bed.

It was a small price to pay to have our home free of him, to have my girls safe.

It was a painful and expensive time, but it was important. I see that now. It showed me how good Harold was and how strong I am.

Which is why…I did what I had to do, in the end.

I didn’t have a choice.

I was tired, honestly. Tired of seeing women being torn down by men. Tired of seeing men walking around like that thing between their legs means they can control the world and no one will ever stand up to them. I got tired of being the woman who didn’t stand up.

Money gave me power, sure. Power most women didn’t have. And what about them? They were just supposed to take it?

When Edna came to work for me, I knew.

I knew in the way I know when a storm is coming, or how I can sense tension when I walk into a room. I could feel it when I met her. She was all at once just like me and nothing like me.

She was scared.

She was trying.

But she was poor. Her options were limited.

I’d never had a house manager live with me before, but I offered the option to her one day, just out of the blue. I’m not sure I realized I even had the idea until the words were out of my mouth.

You should move in with me.

I had the space, after all. And it did make her job easier. Plus, here within the walls of Bitter House, I promised her she’d be safe. I didn’t have to explain what that meant. We understood each other in a way only women who’ve experienced abuse can.

The next day, Edna and Cole moved in with me. He was a scrawny little thing. Hardened by all he’d seen. Quiet. He reminded me so much of my girls when they were young—all elbows, knees, and wild feelings. Of course, he also came with a broken heart. We weren’t so different in that way. I wanted more than anything to protect him. To protect them both.

And so…I did.

For a while, things were okay. Safe. Happy. We settled into a new normal and became a little unit.

The day Don came to the house, everything changed.

He wasn’t going to leave, not without his wife and son. That’s what he told me. As if they were his property. That’s the problem with men like that. They think the entire world belongs to them.

I’d wanted to keep her safe. I’d hired an attorney for her to help with the divorce. I’d told her my story, eventually.

But it wasn’t enough. He was at my door, and I knew then from the look in his eyes, even if I kept her locked inside my house, Don wasn’t like Reggie. He didn’t want money. He wanted them.

And I couldn’t let that happen.

The first time I ever held my husband’s gun was the night I killed a man. And I’d do it again.

In a heartbeat.