Chapter 4: Survival in the Lion’s Den

Today, the heir was rough, biting my neck hard enough to leave marks. I felt the pulse beneath his teeth, afraid he’d draw blood. I stared up at the ceiling fan, trying to steady my breathing, as if that would make me less his possession.

In the morning, he called me to help him dress—a job that used to be Tanya’s. I fumbled with his tie, feeling his eyes on me the whole time. My nerves made me clumsy, and I had to redo it twice. His sigh was louder than the radiator.

Thinking fast, I tried to hint: “If only Tanya were here. She always gets it right.”

He sighed again, louder this time. My hands shook as I looked up at him.

He leaned in, voice sharp. “I’m your husband. You don’t serve me, but you want to hand me off to someone else?”

I panicked, burying my face in his chest. His shirt smelled like aftershave and woodsmoke—something safe, something strong. Maybe, just maybe, I could rely on him.

He let me hold him, finally sighing, “Still so naive.”

Something about him liked it when I talked back. I mustered my courage. “Naive? My hands or my mouth?”

He snorted. “You even pray to the wrong person. Use your head next time.”

But I knew he was wrong. It was Grandma Montgomery who saved Tanya, not him. He only hinted at it and wanted credit. Petty, petty man.

New Year’s Eve arrived, and the Montgomerys went to the city’s country club for the big family party—tuxes, sequins, gossip about summer homes. Only a few of us girlfriends stayed behind.

My half-sister handed out cash for a nice dinner, her voice all sugar and steel: “Be good, don’t drink too much, and try not to kill each other while I’m gone.”

As we walked back, Holly whispered, “She acts like you girls are gonna brawl.”

My heart thudded. This was when things usually went wrong.

I tried to beg off, claiming I felt sick, but the house manager’s glare cut through my excuse. “The boss gives a reward, and only Sarah doesn’t want it? That’s disrespect—against the rules.”

My face went white. House rules trump everything here. I realized there was no way out tonight.

I ducked into my room to change, hatching a plan. I packed up handmade gifts—velvet socks, slippers, and Tanya’s favorite lemon bars—wrapping them in tissue and ribbon. Holly took them to Grandma Montgomery’s wing for me. Maybe she’d protect me.

It worked. Mrs. Foster intercepted me in the hallway. “Sarah, Grandma Montgomery wants your lemon bars. Could you make a batch?”

I kept my cool, but inside I was over the moon. “Of course, Mrs. Foster. Right away.”

I excused myself, following Mrs. Foster down the marble halls. She grinned, tugging me along. “Come on, Grandma really wants to see you.”

I panicked. Was I really going to see her like this? What should I bring?

Mrs. Foster just laughed. “Just bring yourself, honey.”

She dragged me to the sitting room. Grandma Montgomery was by the fire, knitting, her voice booming: “Come give your grandma a New Year’s hug—maybe you’ll get a little green envelope for luck.”

She was nothing like the stories—warm, lively, with a grip like iron. I couldn’t believe this was the woman even my half-sister feared.

For the first time, I felt welcome. We laughed over photo albums, played gin rummy, and I forgot, for a while, what it felt like to be an outsider.

Then came the urgent knock at the door. My heart skipped a beat, but Grandma just squeezed my hand. “No one can hurt you while I’m here.”

The heir burst in, cold wind swirling behind him. His eyes found me. “Sarah, come with me.”

His tone was sharp, but I could see the worry underneath.