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My husband slammed my hand onto the burning stove because the steak was “overcooked.” As I collapsed in agony, my mother-in-law stepped over me, laughing, “She needs to learn her place.” My father-in-law just turned up the TV. They thought I was reaching for a bandage. I smiled through the tears and whispered, “enjoy your last few minutes of peace.” then, the siren lights flashed outside…

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Chapter 1: The Scent of Ruin

The acrid, unmistakable scent of searing flesh registered in my brain a fraction of a second before the blinding agony shot up my forearm. Julian’s grip was a vice of manicured fingers and signet rings, his weight bearing down on my wrist, forcing the back of my hand against the glowing red coil of the induction stove. I continue reading …

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