My husband shoved me, shattering the bathroom mirror. His mother sneered, “Clean up this disgusting mess.” But as I fell, my husband roared, “What’s in your pocket?!” The red LED of my federal distress fob pulsed. Denied the third click, I threw myself onto the broken glass, and…

man with slicked-back hair who served as the Sterling family’s “fixer” and corporate attorney. Thorne carried a slim, black leather briefcase.

Vance’s eyes were bloodshot, completely erratic from hours of heavy drinking and whatever else he had consumed in his downstairs office. He stalked into the room, snapping on the harsh overhead lights, while continue reading …