Chapter 1 - The Missing Salt
The first blow came before the soup had even stopped trembling in its porcelain bowl. I had spent two hours carefully preparing the broth, ensuring the vegetables were perfectly julienned, desperate for a quiet evening. Grant tasted exactly one spoonful. The dining room was completely silent, save for the ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the hallway. He set the silver spoon down with a sharp clink, stared at me across the mahogany dining table, and said, “You forgot the salt.”
He said it softly, but his tone carried the weight of a judge delivering a death sentence. It was as if I had confessed to murder rather than under-seasoning a simple appetizer. Before I could even open my mouth to apologize or reach for the salt shaker, he was out of his chair.
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His palm struck my cheek with blinding speed and ferocious force. The impact knocked me sideways, sending my chair screeching across the hardwood floor before I crashed hard against the heavy oak cabinet. Pain exploded across the left side of my face, sharp and ringing. Before I could even attempt to stand, he closed the distance between us. He grabbed my wrist, twisting it sharply upward until the agony forced my knees onto the cold kitchen tile.
“You embarrass me in my own house,” he hissed, his face inches from mine, his breath smelling of expensive scotch. “How difficult is it to make one decent meal? You are useless.” I tasted the metallic tang of blood pooling in my mouth from where my teeth had caught my inner lip. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. That was the answer he liked most. It was the only answer that kept me alive.
