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Tags: romance, drama, emotional story, free reading, NovelHot<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Synopsis:<\/strong> Chapter 1<\/p>\n\n\n\n Because I was too clingy, my husband, Julian Croft, sent me to a behavioral modification facility. On the day I was scheduled to leave the facility, the head warden slapped a stack of photographs against my face.
A love that promised forever can leave the deepest scars. Follow the story of heartbreak, secrets, and the journey to heal the wounds left behind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My \u201ccondition\u201d was finally cured after all ten of my finger bones were systematically broken.
The day he came to pick me up, I gritted my teeth against the splintering pain in my hands and played F\u00fcr Elise.
Julian didn\u2019t know it was my swan song. He just sighed with irritation.
\u201cClara, do you ever get tired of playing that same piece?\u201d
Later, after I had forgotten him completely, my piano duet brought an entire concert hall to its feet.
But Julian was in the audience, his body trembling as he asked me, \u201cClara, didn\u2019t you once tell me that F\u00fcr Elise was only for me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMr. Croft is coming today. You know what to say and what not to say when you\u2019re out of here.\u201d
My eyes drifted downward to the photos scattered on the floor. Me, posed in humiliating positions, my body a canvas of bruises. The memories flooded back in a sickening rush\u2014the beatings, the splintered bones, the whirring of the camera.
It was the longest five hours of my life, an eternity of agony that taught me the true meaning of suffering. I thought I was going to die. But each time I faded, the pain would jolt me back to consciousness, just as it was doing now, pulling me from the horror of the memory.
The warden grabbed a fistful of my hair, forcing my head back. Her cruel face loomed over me, magnifying my terror. Fear had become my most basic instinct.
\u201cI won\u2019t tell,\u201d I whimpered, the words spilling out of me. \u201cI won\u2019t say a word.\u201d
By the time I was \u201ccleaned up\u201d and brought out, Julian was already waiting. The look in his eyes was one of faint, undisguised disgust.
\u201cLet\u2019s go. We\u2019re already running late.\u201d
I followed him meekly. When we reached the car, my fingers were too weak to open the door. I tried several times, fumbling uselessly with the handle.
Julian watched me in the rearview mirror, his lips curled in a sneer. \u201cClara, are you always this dramatic? A year in that place taught you nothing. Are you going to make me\u2026\u201d
Before he could finish, I braced myself against the searing pain and used both hands to wrench the door open.
\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d I whispered. \u201cI\u2019ll do better.\u201d
Julian froze. The old Clara would have pouted, would have draped herself over him and sweetly asked him to open it for her. But after a year of inhuman torture, that girl was gone.
He drove us straight back to our estate. A lavish party was in full swing. As I stepped inside, someone wrinkled their nose.
\u201cIs that Mrs. Croft? She looks so\u2026 plain. And worn out.\u201d
I unconsciously clutched the faded hem of my dress, remembering the sallow, gaunt face I\u2019d seen in the car\u2019s mirror. They were right. I was a ruin.
Julian gripped my arm, pulling me aside. \u201cAre you going to stand there embarrassing me all night?\u201d he hissed. \u201cGo change. You\u2019re scheduled to play the piano soon.\u201d
Play the piano? The thought felt like a memory from another lifetime. My mind was getting so foggy. I\u2019d almost forgotten I was once one of the country\u2019s most celebrated concert pianists.
I silently raised my hands. They were mottled and rough, a far cry from the slender, pale fingers they used to be. Could I even play anymore?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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