Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Serena

As I gather my purse and coat to leave, my best friend follows me to the door. Gina’s eyes are filled with the kind of worry that comes from seeing my ex in action one too many times. The last few months have been hell. The first time it happened, he came home drunk and threw me against a curio cabinet. My friend showed up at three in the morning and took me to the emergency room, no questions asked, and even stayed with me in the hospital until I got discharged. The last time was two weeks ago, I realized then that Stan wasn’t going to change, and I packed my bags and left.

She asks one last time, “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Flashing me an awkward grin, she adds, “I can help you pack.”

I swear to God, Gina is the only thing I’m going to miss about San Francisco.

“No,” I reply sternly. “I don’t want to give him any reason to go after you once I’m gone. You know how he is.”

“Yeah, I do,” she says with a frown. “That’s one reason I don’t want you going on your own.”

“I won’t be on my own, the police are meeting me there. If there’s a protective order in place, they send a two-person team when survivors go to retrieve their belongings, one stays with the vulnerable person while their colleague monitors the other party. They said I have an hour and I shouldn’t need that.”

Gina counters with logic, “Girl, you can’t move furniture all on your own.”

My friend is trying every which way to get me to let her help today, but I don’t want her in my ex’s line of sight right now. He’s liable to take out his frustration on her if he can’t get to me. “I won’t need to,” I tell her firmly.

Her expression turns to shock. “Tell me you aren’t leaving that asshole all your nice things.”

Trying to put her mind at ease, I explain more about my plan to her, “I have a moving company scheduled to meet me there. I’ve made a list of everything that belongs to me and ranked it according to importance. They’re supposed to go according to the list, while I pack my clothing and personal effects.”

Gina’s anxiety clicks down a notch, and she finally accepts that I’ve got things under control. “I don’t know why I was even worried about you. Once you make up your mind about something, you don’t let anything get in your way.”

“I wish I’d made up my mind a lot sooner. I let things go too far with Stan.”

“The important part is that you got out. Always remember that, Serena.”

“I will,” I promise. “Trust me when I say I’ve thought about every possible thing that could go wrong already and how I would deal with it. By this time tomorrow, I’ll be with my family in Las Salinas.”

“Alright. I can see you’re determined to go about this safely. So, I’ll leave you to it. But if you need anything at all, I want you to call me first, okay?”

I reach out and give her arm a squeeze. “Yeah, Gina. I’ll call you soon and tell you all about how much Stan hated having to pretend to be polite in front of the police.”

“I’m sure it’s gonna be an ego killer for that asshole to watch you walk out the door when all he wants to do is badger you into staying.”

“I don’t care what he wants. Stan isn’t my problem anymore. I’ll be leaving San Francisco right after I gather my things.”

When I walk toward the door, Gina follows me. “Just be careful. If I hear anything on the grapevine, I’ll let you know on that fancy new phone of yours.”

I open the door, step through and turn to look at my friend. Gina looks so young and innocent standing there in her white ruffled pajamas. “Just so we’re clear, I don’t care what Stan’s up to after I leave, so don’t go snooping around him. Let’s just close this chapter of our lives and move on.”

She nods, clearly on board with that idea. “Alright, whatever you say. Your ex is an easy man to ignore. Drive safely and tell that hot brother of yours, I said hello.”

I roll my eyes at her ongoing low-key interest in my brother. “He’s married now and has four kids, Gina.”

“Drats, totally off the market, right?”

“Yeah, he is,” I respond. “Take care of yourself and be sure to lock your door at night.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she teases. Gina is such a nice person. Thankfully, she’s got family in the area, so I’m not worried about her. They are not only supportive, but always there for her when she needs something. “And come and visit once I’m settled, okay? My brother might be off the market, but I’m sure he’s got plenty of hot friends.” I thought of one in particular I’d had a massive crush on for most of my teenage years.

“You’re on,” she replies with a grin.

A short silence spins out between us. I quickly lean in, give her one last hug and then we go our separate ways, me walking down the hall and her shutting the door quietly behind me. Our parting not only feels final, but a sinister sense of foreboding hangs over it like a dark cloud. I can’t tell whether it’s related to her or me.

I get into my Mercedes and head over to the apartment I once shared with my ex. Stan is a nasty piece of work, a classic narcissist who’s obsessed with his public image. He seemed so normal when we first got together, but it didn’t take long for the cracks in his façade to start appearing. And as I started to get glimpses of the real Stan, what lay beneath his carefully constructed mask was terrifying.

Glancing into the rearview mirror, I give my friend’s apartment one last look. I feel so guilty for getting myself into this mess and inadvertently dragging Gina into it. When I adjust the mirror slightly, I catch sight of my own face. With my dark hair, bright blue eyes, and nearly flawless ivory skin, I can pass for pretty in the right light. I’m much less thrilled about passing for pretty right now, because it’s this pretty face that drew Stan to me.

As I drive to his place, I can’t help remembering all the seemingly inconsequential decisions that got me where I am today. I met him at work, being a junior attorney, I looked up to Stan because he was older and more established. The partners loved him and were always bragging about his moves in the courtroom.

Looking back, I can now tell Stan love bombed me hard. He’s a smooth-talking devil who talked me into going out with him in five minutes flat. It didn’t hurt that he was male model gorgeous, a sharp dresser and cunning in the courtroom. I honestly thought I’d met my perfect match. Little did I know all the grief that man would eventually end up causing me. Had I known then what I know now, I would have run hard and fast in the opposite direction.

When I arrive at the apartment, the moving company’s truck is parked at the curve in the front of the building, and a police car is parked across the street. Although anxiety twists in my stomach, I force myself to get out of my car and face the man who put me in the hospital. “You can do this,” I mumble under my breath.

Stan should have already received an official notice that this supported move was taking place today, whether he was present or not.

I approach the two law enforcement officers, give them my copy of the court order, and show them my ID. “Thank you for coming out today. I appreciate it more than you know.”

There’s a male and a female officer. The woman gives me a kind smile, “No need to thank us, ma’am.”

Meanwhile, her colleague is looking over my paperwork. After a couple of minutes, he glances up. “It looks like everything’s in order ma’am.” He hands it back to me, along with a piece of paper to sign.

I quickly read over it to find that it’s simply verification that this meet up took place. I scribble my name on the dotted line as I explain, “I have receipts for all the big-ticket items that I’m taking from the apartment today. I thought it would be prudent in case my ex tries to accuse me of taking things that don’t belong to me.”

The woman responds, “Good thinking.”

We walk to the front of the apartment, and I step up onto the landing with both cops flanking me. I’ve only got an hour, so I need to be quick about this if I want to secure all my possessions. I key in the door code that lets us in the building and we take the elevator to the top floor.

Standing in front of door eight one eight causes me to break out in a cold sweat. I don’t want to do this, but I do it anyway. Letting Stan intimidate me and leaving him all my stuff would make me a coward in my own mind. I bring up a trembling hand and ring the doorbell. When no one answers after three or four rings the ball of anxiety in my stomach begins to unknot. I guess Stan decided to avoid dealing with the consequences of his own actions, which is all the better for me today. I push my key into the lock and let myself in.

I’ve been gone for two weeks, and the apartment reeks a little. Since there are containers from a local restaurant scattered on the bar between the kitchen and living room. I assume that’s where the smell is coming from.

The anxiety in my stomach starts to grow again when I see the now glassless, antique curio cabinet he shoved me into. It looks obviously damaged without the glass, kind of like me. It’s a brutal reminder of how hard it is to withstand true violence. I do my best to keep my feelings of vulnerability under control.

Stan was charged with domestic abuse and has already had his arraignment. I must remain calm, no matter what. If I lose my shit, I’ll end up proving all the things he claimed in court about me are true, that I’m hysterical and overly emotional. Therefore, I suck it up and talk to the movers as they come through the door. “Start with the sofa and work your way down the list, securing the largest items first.”

“Yes ma’am,” one of the men replies.

The male officer speaks up, “You’re down to fifty minutes.” My eyes drop down to read the name on his uniform. It says Duncan.

When I open my mouth to complain, he quickly points out, “The time started when we arrived at eleven, not when you got here.”

Damn, he’s right. The time I spent assuaging Gina’s fears meant I was running a few minutes late. I make a mental note that Officer Duncan plans to be a stickler for the rules. Intent upon not wasting any more time, I say, “Thanks for the heads up. I’m going to start packing my clothes.”

The female officer follows me into the bedroom, watching as I pull my suitcases from under the bed and begin dumping everything I own inside. I don’t stop long enough to fold my clothing or organize anything. My all-encompassing goal is to get my stuff out as quickly as possible in hopes of not having to deal with Stan.

Unfortunately, I don’t turn out to be quite that lucky. The snake in the grass that used to be my boyfriend comes back twenty minutes later, carrying a tray of coffee and a big box of donuts. He’s smiling, making polite conversation, apologizing for the mess, and handing out the coffee like this is the most normal situation in the entire world. Then again Stan’s a malignant narcissist. Image is everything. Right now, he’s just managing his image.

Neither of the officers accept refreshments from him, but the three-man moving crew take full advantage of his kindness. I can see him through the doorway slithering around like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

For some reason, I start to panic. Doing my best not to let it show, I pack faster and faster. The movers bring me a stack of boxes, the ones I ordered and paid for. I start filling them, not caring that things are all mixed up.

A feminine voice drifts from across the room, “Are you okay, ma’am?”

“Yes,” I respond tightly. “I’m just anxious to get my things and get out of here.”

She uses her foot to shut the door, which turns out to be just the reprieve I need to haul in a deep breath and gather my thoughts.

She takes a step closer and looks me over with a critical eye. “This man has really done a number on you hasn’t he?”

“It’s all in the protective order,” I reply in a barely audible whisper.

“Don’t worry,” she states in a low voice. “He can’t get to you. With two officers present, you’re safe.”