Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 25187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Eighteen months ago, my stepfather sold me to pay his gambling debts.
And the only man who could rescue me from the horrible clutches of a fiancé I never wanted?
Ruel Caristia.
He’s tall, dark, and terrifyingly beautiful.
A billionaire with blood ties to the mafia.
When he told me the only way out of that country was to marry him, I knew I had no choice but to believe him.
I took my chances, and in return…
My brooding and mysterious husband gave me a safe home and nights I’ll never forget.
The only thing he never gave me is his heart, and that’s why…
On the day I knew I was finally safe…
I knew it was also time to let go of the most honorable man I’ve ever known.
I ask for a divorce.
And my husband doesn’t even try to stop me
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Part One
Chapter 1
Not A Meet Cute
Ican see it now.
My name will be on everyone's lips. And it's because I'm the girl whose death led to a Netflix documentary.
Karyna Francisco: The Girl Who Kept Hoping Her Stepfather Wasn't Evil. And Paid the Price for Her Stupidity with Her Life.
…
Okay, I know I probably could've worded that better.
Or maybe not.
I've never been gifted with words. My earliest memories of Mom were of her shouting 'shut up', and when she and my stepfather married, Joel also started shouting something similar.
Instead of simply asking me to shut up, he was more…descriptive. He yelled at me to 'shut the fuck up'.
But anyway.
Netflix probably wouldn't give me the time of the day with a title that boring (and just plain uninspired, if we're being honest).
But I honestly don't have time to think of something else because—
Ding.
The elevator doors slide open just as I round the corner, and the first person to step out is Konrad.
Nooooooooooooo!
The people my stepfather has sold me to as payment for his gambling debts are back, and I barely have time to retreat before they see me.
I duck into the side hallway that branches off the corner, and I press myself against the wall so hard I can feel the raised pattern of the wallpaper through my shirt. I don't dare breathe. The carpet is thick under my sneakers, so thick it swallows every sound, but that doesn't stop me from panicking that it didn't swallow mine.
“Watch the elevators," Konrad orders from somewhere past the corner. "And the fire exits."
Like always.
Konrad, the man Joel sold me to, is so paranoid that he never walks into a building without covering every way out of it. I've been stuck in this hotel long enough to know his routine by heart, so I also know what comes next.
Footsteps. His, heavy and impatient, going right past the mouth of my little side hallway without slowing down.
Toward my room.
Nobody's standing guard outside my door, and I know exactly why. They think I'm too meek to run. Too dumb to even try.
And honestly?
Until today, they would've been right.
I was hoping to leave the hotel before they got back, but that's now out of the question, so…
Think, Kar!
Ten months ago, Joel lost his job and started gambling online.
Five months ago, my mother died in a stabbing "accident".
Four months ago, my stepfather said we were losing the house.
Three months ago, he said we should move back to his home country Moskra and start fresh. In hindsight, I realize now that those words were too good to be true, but since I did preface all of this with the admission that I'm not the brightest bulb in the block…
That's how I ended up here: trapped in a foreign country without a single cent to my name, engaged against my will, and about to be taken away by a fiancé who makes Charles Manson look reasonable…if I don't think of something soon.
So please, brain!
The second Konrad's footsteps fade, I peel myself off the wall and go the opposite way, deeper into the side hallway.
I have my hand over my mouth to keep myself from crying out as I try the doors of every hotel room I pass while I walk down the hallway like a headless chicken.
Please work for me like you've never worked before!
But they’re all locked.
Please, please.
But it’s no use. Every knob I try turning might as well be made of stone, unyielding and unmoving between my fingers. It’s only a matter of time before they find me, and then…
And then…
No, no, no!
Don’t give up just yet!
Come on, brain, think!
I was five years old when I watched my first action movie. It was the first of Tom Cruise's Mission Impossible movies, and since then, action flicks became my greatest source of comfort. They were my secret pain reliever when I was emotionally bruised. My go-to for every curve ball life throws my way (which honestly happens so, so often, that if I were the superstitious type, I'd have long believed I was cursed).