Chapter 1 - The Cold Rain
The freezing Colorado rain soaked entirely through my thin hospital jacket.
I pulled the soft pink blanket much tighter around my newborn daughter, Ava.
She was only three days old, perfectly innocent, and blissfully asleep in the middle of a waking nightmare.
I stood shivering on the front porch of my own mansion, staring at the digital keypad that had just glowed red.
My husband, Grant, had changed the security codes while I was busy fighting through labor at the hospital.
He had packed his luxury designer bags, flown to Miami with his mother, and left me completely locked out.
He actually believed the sprawling estate belonged to him now.
He thought my postpartum exhaustion would make me weak, desperate, and compliant.
He was completely and utterly wrong.
My ruthless attorney, Rachel, was already preparing the legal paperwork to sell the property out from under him to an all-cash buyer.
I shivered violently as a massive gust of wind swept across the dark expanse of Cedar Ridge Lane.
I was waiting for my fiercely loyal sister, Nora, to come rescue us from the freezing storm.
My cell phone buzzed in my pocket, displaying a mocking text message from Grant.
The message contained a crystal-clear picture of him and his mother holding champagne glasses on a sunny Miami balcony.
The caption boldly stated that he was finally enjoying the luxurious lifestyle he truly deserved.
I felt a sickening knot twist deep in my exhausted stomach.
For three years, I had desperately ignored the glaring warning signs, his financial entitlement, and his quiet manipulation.
I had blinded myself to the ugly truth because I so desperately wanted a perfect family for my future baby.
Headlights suddenly swept across the long gravel driveway, blinding me for a split second.
Nora’s dark SUV skidded to a chaotic halt near the grand stone water fountain.
She threw her heavy door open and sprinted through the torrential rain to reach us.
She carefully guided me toward the warmth of her vehicle, her dark eyes blazing with absolute fury.
I sat down heavily in the passenger seat and finally let out a broken, exhausted breath.
I looked up through the rain-streaked windshield toward the dark, imposing facade of my beloved home.
Something suddenly caught my eye in the master bedroom window on the second floor.
A warm, yellow light flickered on in the room I had personally decorated.
Someone was standing directly behind the sheer curtains, staring coldly down at us.
May you like
Grant had not left the massive house completely empty after all.
The dark silhouette clearly belonged to a tall woman, and she was holding my heavy iron garden shears.
