“Those absolute monsters,” Bridget hissed, and I heard the sound of her grabbing her keys. “Stay on the line with me, Valerie, I am calling the police and I am on my way right now.”
The sound of distant sirens began to grow louder, becoming the most beautiful symphony I had ever heard in my life. “They are here, Bridget, I think we are going to be okay.”
By the time the rescue team forced the locks and swarmed into the foyer, I was drifting in and out of consciousness. They lifted me onto a stretcher, and as the ambulance sped away, I looked back at the three million dollar villa I had bought with my own savings.
That house was no longer a home; it was a cold grave where I buried my love and my forgiveness for a family that never deserved them. As we raced toward the hospital, the love I felt for Dominic died a bitter death, replaced by a sharp, determined hatred.
The delivery room at St. Jude’s Medical Center was a blur of blinding white lights and the sterile clinking of surgical instruments. I was alone in this battle, with no husband to hold my hand, but the image of their smug faces provided me with superhuman strength.