Grace Morgan's POV

I glanced nervously at the closed door, my heart pounding in my chest. Derek was out to do some office work, but I don't know when he will be back. Maybe he is with Ava, his favorite colleague and sex buddy. The thought of them together made my stomach churn.

My hands trembled as I dialed my mother's number. Derek despised it when I talked to my mother; his jealousy and paranoia flared up in unpredictable ways. But if he can go around fucking some other woman, then why can't I talk to the woman who gave me birth? I despise Ava too, but that didn't stop him from meeting her.

"Hello?" My mother's voice, weak but unmistakably hers, squeaked through the line.

"Hi, Mom," I said softly, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's me, Grace."

"Oh, Grace, it's so good to hear your voice," she replied, a hint of relief in her tone. "How are you, darling?"

"I'm fine," I lied, forcing a smile that she couldn't see. "I just wanted to check on you. How are you feeling?"

There was a brief pause, and I could almost hear her gathering her strength. "I'm getting better, sweetie. The treatments are working slowly but surely. The doctors are hopeful."

I closed my eyes, feeling disheartened but relieved at the same time. It was hard to hear her struggling, but I was grateful for any progress in her recovery. "I'm so glad to hear that, Mom. I've been so worried."

"Why don't you come visit me, Grace?" She asked, her voice tinged with sadness. "I miss you. Are you angry at me still?"

A lump formed in my throat. The truth was, I wanted nothing more than to be with her, to hold her hand, and to tell her everything. But Derek's tight grip on my life made that impossible. Of course, I could never be angry at her. She was my mother, after all, and I knew she only wanted what was best for me.

I mustered up the courage to say, "I'll try to come visit soon, Mom. I promise." Deep down, I knew it would be a challenge to make Derek accept my proposal and prioritize my mother's needs.

"I miss you too. It's just... things have been so hectic here." I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Hectic? Or is it Derek?" she asked, a note of suspicion creeping into her voice. "You know, Grace, I never liked that man."

I bit my lip, fighting back the tears. "Everything's fine, Mom. Really. Derek's just been very busy with work, and it's hard to get away." Mom's instinct was always spot on, and I knew she could sense that something was off with Derek.

"I worry about you, Grace," she said softly. "You don't sound happy. You haven't sounded happy for a long time." Deep down, I knew she was right. The truth was, I hadn't been happy in a long time.

I wanted to let the floodgates open and pour out all the pain and fear I'd been bottling up. But I couldn't. Not over the phone, and not while mom wasn't fully recovered.

"I'm okay, Mom. I promise. I just... I wish I could be there with you."

She sighed, the sound filled with a deep sadness that mirrored my own. "I understand, dear. But please, take care of yourself. And remember, you can always come home."

The longing in her words broke my heart. "I know, Mom. I love you."

"I love you too, Grace. Eat properly and take care."

We said our goodbyes, and I ended the call, my heart heavy with sorrow. The weight of my situation pressed down on me. I had the urge to puke but resisted. I wanted so desperately to believe that things could change, but here I was under Derek's control and far away from finding happiness again.

I quickly deleted the call log, a routine precaution that had become second nature. Derek's wrath was something I couldn't afford to provoke, especially now. I took a deep breath and composed myself, trying to banish the sadness that threatened to overwhelm me. I needed to drown myself in drinks and pretend, if only for a moment, that everything was okay. The numbness from the alcohol would at least provide temporary relief from the suffocating reality I found myself in.

As I sat in the quiet of my home, the walls closing in around me, I made a silent vow. One day, I would break free from Derek's grasp and follow my goals. I would visit my mother, hold her close, and tell her everything. Until then, I had to survive. For her sake, and for mine.

The whiskey burned as it slid down my throat—a bitter comfort that I welcomed. My hand shook slightly as I poured another glass, the amber liquid swirling before settling. The room was dim, the only light coming from the soft glow of a lamp in the corner. The silence was thick, broken only by the sound of my own labored breathing.

I had the house to myself for a few hours. These moments of solitude had become both a blessing and a curse. I took another sip, closing my eyes as the warmth spread through my chest. The alcohol dulled the edges of my pain, but it never truly erased it. I felt trapped; Derek had isolated me from friends and family, making me dependent on him for everything. If he found out about Amber, my good friend, he would surely lash out in anger and try to break our friendship.

I couldn't bear it anymore. The room spun slightly as I reached for my phone, the alcohol making my movements sluggish. Without thinking, I opened a new message and started typing. The words flowed from my fingers, a desperate plea for help that I couldn't voice aloud.

"Zane, everything is falling apart. I feel so alone. Please help me."

I hit send before I could second-guess myself, the message flying off into the void. I stared at the screen, my heart pounding. What had I done? Would he even respond?

Time passed in a blur, the minutes stretching into what felt like hours. I was half-asleep on the couch when the doorbell rang. Startled, I sat up too quickly, the room spinning around me. I stumbled to the door, my heart racing as I peered through the peephole.

Zane stood on the other side, his expression one of concern and urgency. I hesitated for a moment before opening the door, my eyes red and puffy from tears and alcohol.

Zane's appearance was striking as he stood on the other side of the door. His tall frame was hunched slightly forward, his usually neat dark hair disheveled, and his blue eyes filled with worry. The concern in his expression softened the sharp angles of his jawline, making him appear almost vulnerable. Despite my blurry vision, I could see that he was impeccably dressed in a casual t-shirt and jeans.

Zane ran a hand through his messy hair, pushing up his glasses as he spoke.

"Grace," he said softly, stepping inside. "I got your message. Are you okay?"

I shook my head, unable to find the words. The relief of seeing him here and knowing someone cared was overwhelming. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I looked away, embarrassed.

Zane gently guided me to the couch, sitting beside me. "Hey, it's okay. I'm here now. Just tell me what's going on."

I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to compose myself. "That bruise you saw at the dinner was caused by Derek. He beats me whenever I don't obey him; I can't take it anymore."

Zane listened patiently, his presence a calming influence. "You're not alone, Grace. We can figure something out."

I looked at him, and the sincerity in his eyes was almost too much to bear. "But how? He threatened me that he would hurt anyone who interfered in our relationship."

We'll take one step at a time," Zane said gently. "First, we need to get you somewhere safe. Do you have any friends or family you can stay with?"

I shook my head. "He isolated me from everyone, and my mom is not well; she won't be able to bear my situation if she finds out."

Zane nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Then we'll find another way. I know some resources that can help. We'll get you out of this, I promise."

We'll? Is he referring to Freya? I wonder if she would let Zane help me or if she would view me as a leech trying to take advantage of him. But I had no other choice at this point. I just had to trust Zane.

Nonetheless, I felt a glimmer of hope for the first time in a long while. "Thank you."

He gave me a small, reassuring smile. "You don't have to thank me. I'm just glad you reached out. Many times, the women in these situations just try to hide their struggles and suffer in silence. I'm here to help in any way I can." With those words, Zane's kindness warmed my heart and gave me the courage to finally open up about my situation.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit me, sending the room spinning faster. I clutched my stomach, my face pale. "I think I'm going to be sick..."

Zane was quick to react, helping me to my feet and guiding me to the bathroom. He held my hair back as I knelt over the toilet, the alcohol finally catching up with me. My body convulsed as I vomited, the sound echoing in the small space.

"It's okay, let it all out," Zane murmured soothingly, his hand rubbing gentle circles on my back. "You're going to be okay."

Tears streamed down my face, a mix of physical discomfort and emotional release. I couldn't remember the last time someone had been so kind to me, and the realization was both heartbreaking and comforting.

When I finally stopped retching, I slumped back against the wall, exhausted and ashamed. I was surely a mess.

Zane handed me a glass of water, his eyes filled with harmony.

"Drink this," he said softly. "It'll help."

I sipped the water, the cool liquid soothing my raw throat. Zane stayed by my side, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of my emotions.

"Thank you again," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "I... I don't deserve this."

"Everyone deserves kindness," Zane replied firmly. "And you, Grace, deserve so much more than what you've been through." I felt a lump form in my throat at his words, touched by his compassion. Was this man real? Could someone truly care for me this deeply, despite all my flaws and mistakes? As I looked into Zane's eyes, I saw nothing but sincerity.

Eventually, he helped me back to the couch, making sure I was comfortable before sitting beside me. "You should rest," he said softly. "I'll stay here until you fall asleep."

I nodded, too tired to argue. As I closed my eyes, I felt a strange sense of safety with Zane nearby. For the first time in a long time, I dared to hope that maybe things could get better. And that hope, however small, was enough to carry me through the night.

But just as I was drifting off, my phone buzzed on the table. I reached for it, my heart stopping as I read the message from Derek.

"I'll be home soon. We need to talk."

Zane noticed my reaction; his expression was darkening. "Grace, what's wrong?"

I showed him the message, my hands trembling. "He's coming back early. He never says 'we need to talk' unless something's wrong."

I glanced at the clock, realizing we had less than an hour before Derek would walk through the door.

"Any idea what he wants to talk about?" Zane asked, his voice steady but his eyes reflecting a deep worry.

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. "It could be anything," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "But usually, it means he's found out something he doesn't like."

"Don't worry; if he tries to hurt you, I'll call the police. That will be enough proof for them to take him in," Zane replied.

"No, the police would do nothing; his father was the chief of police, and everyone loved his father and him as well. He has a certain influence on the police force."

Zane looked disgusted, but before he could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted our conversation. Panic surged through me as I realized that Derek would be home at any moment.

"Please, Zane, you have to go," I pleaded, desperation lacing my words. "I can't risk Derek seeing us together."

His twisted mind will think something else if he saw me and Zane together at this time.

Zane hesitated, his eyes searching mine for reassurance. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

I forced a shaky smile, trying to convey a sense of confidence I didn't feel. "I'll be fine. Just go, please."

With a reluctant nod, Zane turned and slipped out of the room through the backdoor, leaving me alone with my fear and uncertainty. As the seconds ticked by, each one felt like an eternity, until finally, the door swung open and the beast stepped into the room.