CHAPTER 2 — THE TRUTH BEHIND THE SCARS
The room remained silent.
Harper stayed curled on the floor, waiting.
Waiting for the shout.
Waiting for the blow.
Waiting for the punishment that always followed whenever someone saw what was hidden beneath her clothes.
But nothing happened.
Slowly, she looked up.
Enzo had not moved.
His eyes were fixed on the scars covering her back.
For the first time since meeting him, she saw something other than anger in his face.
Shock.
Then horror.
"What happened to you?" he asked quietly.
Harper immediately looked away.
"It doesn't matter."
"It matters."
"No."
Her voice broke.
"It never mattered before."
The answer hit Enzo harder than he expected.
He knelt several feet away, careful not to touch her.
"Who did this?"
Harper's lips trembled.
For several seconds she said nothing.
Then the truth escaped.
"My father."
The words seemed impossible.
Enzo stared at her.
"Preston Whitcomb?"
She nodded.
"When I was eight, I spilled wine on one of his guests."
Another nod.
"When I was eleven, I spoke during a meeting."
Another.
"When I was fourteen, I tried to tell my mother."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"He used a belt. Sometimes a cane. Sometimes whatever was closest."
Enzo felt rage building inside his chest.
The same rage he had felt when identifying Nathan's body.
The same rage that had fueled every step of his revenge.
Except this time, it wasn't directed at Harper.
It was directed at her father.
For the first time, Enzo realized something terrible.
Harper wasn't the reward Preston had sacrificed.
May you like
She was evidence.
Evidence Preston wanted hidden forever.
