Chapter 3

I slumped on the living room floor, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

Dylan stood by the window, smoking.

One cigarette after another.

Then, he called his parents.

"She's making a scene again," Dylan said into the phone. "I barely touched her, and she threw herself against the cabinet."

"You guys need to come over and talk some sense into her. Otherwise, she's going to threaten me with divorce again."

My head throbbed in agonizing waves.

I knew I couldn't wait anymore.

While Dylan was on the balcony talking to his parents, I used the wall to pull myself up. I stumbled into the bedroom and locked the door.

I grabbed the hidden phone. There were only three contacts saved: Mom, Dad, Leo.

My parents were old and in poor health. I didn't dare call them in the middle of the night.

I stared at Leo's name, hesitating.

He was so easily frightened.

As the call connected, I thought to myself: If he answers, I'll just ask him to call an Uber for me. I won't tell him the truth.

The phone rang three times.

He picked up.

Leo's side was loud; it sounded like he was closing up his salon.

"Chloe? It's so late! Do you miss me?"

I opened my mouth, but my throat was so tight and dry it ached.

Only one sentence managed to escape:

"Leo... I want to come home."

The noise on his end vanished instantly.

After a long pause, he asked, "Chloe... are you crying?"

I couldn't answer.

I heard his breathing turn frantic.

"Did that bastard Dylan hit you again?!" Leo's voice was trembling violently. "I'm coming to get you."

I panicked. "Leo, don't! Don't come here alone. Just... just call the police."

I heard him sniffle.

"I've already called Axel," Leo said, his voice shaking but urgent. "He's driving. We're on our way."

"Chloe, wait for me."

I was stunned.

He was speaking so fast, sobbing between words.

"Also, I called a lawyer friend. She said we have to preserve the evidence of domestic abuse. Don't wash the blood off, okay?"

My heart felt like it had been pierced by something sharp and warm.

Even though he was terrified, he was learning how to save me on his way here.

Suddenly, I heard Dylan's heavy footsteps approaching the bedroom door.

I scrambled to hang up and shoved the phone into my robe pocket.

Just as I unlocked the door and stepped out, the doorbell rang.

It was Beatrice and Richard.

The moment Beatrice walked in and saw the blood dripping down my neck, she quickly shut the door behind her.

"Oh my goodness! How did this happen?"

Dylan grunted, looking away. "She ran into the cabinet herself."

Beatrice immediately chimed in, "Of course, of course. Married couples get into scrambles. It happens."

"But Chloe, really, you should have been more careful. Why didn't you just step aside?"

I looked up at her, my vision blurry.

"He grabbed me by my hair and threw me against it."

Beatrice's face stiffened.

Richard sat down on the sofa, clearing his throat loudly.

"Chloe, now is not the time to be dramatic."

"Dylan's company is negotiating a massive government contract right now. If rumors of this get out, it will ruin him. And that won't do any of us any good."

My head spun. "I need to go to the hospital."

Beatrice immediately cut in. "Hospital? For what? We have rubbing alcohol and bandages here. I'll clean it up for you."

Just then, another knock sounded on the door.

Dylan opened it.

Standing outside was a middle-aged woman wearing a neighborhood association badge, holding a manila folder.

It was Brenda, the HOA coordinator and a close friend of the family.

She looked at my bleeding head, and her expression didn't show an ounce of surprise.

"Chloe, dear, let's sit down and talk," Brenda said smoothly.

"Couples have disagreements. You shouldn't jump to call the police. If you do, there's no turning back."

She pulled a document from her folder and pushed it toward me.

"Just sign this incident report."

I looked down at the paper.

It read:

The husband and wife had a minor domestic dispute. The wife became highly emotional and accidentally collided with the furniture, resulting in minor injuries.

The husband has apologized. The wife voluntarily waives the right to report to police or pursue legal action. Both parties agree to continue living together.

The words "accidentally collided" burned my eyes.

I shook my head.

"I'm not signing this."