Chapter 1My husband beat me every time he drank.
Never punched walls. Never smashed anything—especially not his Rolex collection or those designer vases.
Yeah. You heard it right. Just ME.
Last time around, everyone told me to suck it up.
"He doesn't mean it."
"It's a hormone thing—he can't help himself when he's drunk."
"He's SO good to you. Don't throw away your marriage over drunk mistakes."
So I took it.
Then it got worse. Way worse every time.
Called the cops—his mom got on her knees begging me to drop it.
Documented my bruises—my mom sobbed that divorce would embarrass the family.
Tried to run—my brother called me dramatic, said women were lined up for a guy like him.
Finally pushed me so far I snapped. Jumped off our building.
After I died, I found out the truth.
My "out of control" husband? Total fucking act.
He'd planned every punch. Wanted to drive me to suicide, steal my inheritance, move his mistress into MY apartment.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back—the night of his first beating.
This time? I'm done playing nice.
Called everyone who told me to be understanding. Locked them ALL in the bedroom with him.
You think he can't help it?
Let's see YOU be understanding when you're the punching bag.
---
I woke up on the couch in our bedroom.
Today's the day Blake Morrison would hit me for the first time.
Last go-round, I'd been in the kitchen making him some hangover cure.
His mom Nancy had called earlier.
Saying he'd been drinking at some business thing, asked me to take care of him.
"Ivy baby, Blake's stressed as hell. Alcohol sets him off, you know? Just cut him some slack."
So when Blake stumbled home reeking of whiskey, I rushed to help him to bed.
Second I closed that door, his whole face changed.
Lights weren't even on.
He grabbed my hair from behind, dragged me down.
Back of my head smashed into the bed frame. Everything went white.
I called his name.
He kicked me in the stomach.
"Ivy, you think just 'cause this place is yours, I gotta take your shit?"
I tried crawling toward my phone.
He got there first.
Stomped on it. Screen shattered.
That night—cracked ribs, arms covered in purple, split lip.
I called 911.
Before they showed up, Nancy was already at the door.
Walked in, saw blood on my face, first thing she did? Threw herself at Blake's side, sobbing:
"Baby no, not again... When are you gonna be okay?"
Blake sat on the couch, head down, eyes all red.
Said he blacked out. Didn't remember shit.
Nancy dropped to her knees in front of me, grabbed my hands.
"Ivy sweetie, he didn't mean it. Everyone knows how crazy he is about you."
His dad Roger had this stern look:
"You just got married and you're already calling the cops? What's that gonna do to our families?"
My mom Diana was crying:
"Marriage isn't some game, how can you not handle a little hardship?"
My brother Chase was even more direct.
"A guy like Blake? Women would kill for him. You wanna divorce over him getting drunk once? Are you serious right now?"
I dropped the charges.
After that, Blake's "episodes" kept getting worse.
Around other people, he wouldn't say one harsh word to me.
But every time he'd been drinking and we got back to our place.
Second that bedroom door closed, it's like he became someone else.
On Instagram, he was everyone's dream husband.
"Wifey's been working so hard, made her favorite meal tonight."
"Marriage takes work and patience."
Under those posts—nothing but heart emojis and congrats.
Meanwhile I'm hiding in the bathroom caking makeup over bruises.
Later, I tried running.
Went home—Diana sent me straight back.
Got a hotel room—Chase called screaming about embarrassing the family.
Called the cops again—Nancy clung to my legs crying, saying Blake couldn't have a record.
I gave in. Over and over.
Till finally, I stood on our balcony and jumped.
This time, I'm not expecting anyone to get it.
People don't learn from being told. They learn from getting hurt themselves.
Chapter 2
I went straight to the safe in the study.
Inside: property deed, backup phone, recorder, security system access card.
This downtown penthouse was what Grandpa left me before I got married.
Then texted my lawyer Owen.
"If you don't get a cancel message from me tonight, pull all my security footage and call the police."
Then opened both family group chats. Typed.
"If Blake comes home drunk and loses it tonight, I'm calling the cops and filing for divorce."
"If you don't want me showing up at his office tomorrow, everyone get over here now."
Nancy replied right away.
"Ivy, what the hell are you trying to pull? Blake isn't even home yet and you're threatening divorce—are you hoping something happens to him?"
I replied:
"You said he's just sick, right? Come take care of your sick baby boy then."
Roger sent back:
"This's ridiculous."
I replied: "You too."
Blake's sister Amber jumped in.
"Ivy, can you stop making trouble for my brother every damn day? He works his ass off AND has to deal with your drama—what are you, some kind of princess?"
Reading that almost made me laugh.
The apartment's mine. I paid for most of the renovations.
Blake's money? Either went to wining and dining clients or bailing out his family's business.
But I didn't bother explaining.
Just said: "You come too. Since you know your brother so well, perfect—come help."
Diana private messaged me.
"Ivy, calling all your in-laws over this late, people will talk."
I asked her: "Can you watch your daughter get beaten?"
She typed forever, then:
"Don't you dare talk to me like that!"
I stared at those words.
Mom's voice came through the phone.
"What couple doesn't fight? Stop bringing up divorce."
"What's wrong with you? Blake treats you so well. That Cartier watch for your birthday—you know what that cost?"
Too tired to argue. Hung up.
Just then, doorbell rang.
Opened it.
Nancy stood there holding a thermos.
"Made him chicken soup. Knew you wouldn't know how to take care of him."
She walked in, looking over the living room.
Saw the security camera in the corner, frowned.
"Why so many cameras? Married couples don't need privacy?"
"Common areas. Been there since we moved in."
She snorted.
"You're just spying on Blake."
Soon Roger and Amber showed up.
Second Roger walked in, put on this whole elder statesman act.
"Ivy, marriage isn't a joke. You've got property and stock, Blake's got his career and connections—you two together should be a power couple. Don't mess this up."
Last time when Blake beat me till my ears rang, Roger said the same thing.
Amber plopped down with her arms crossed, muttering:
"If I were my brother, I'd have dumped you ages ago."
I asked her:
"What if he hit you when he was drunk?"
She looked at me like I was crazy.
"Why would he ever hit ME?"
Before long, Diana and Chase arrived too.
Diana came in looking all anxious. Pulled me aside.
"Ivy baby, Mom's begging you, don't blow this up. Your grandpa left you that property and those shares so you'd have security, not so you could throw tantrums."
I looked at her.
"Grandpa left me those things so I could leave bad people."
She froze.
Chase yanked at his tie, annoyed.
"Fine, everyone's here. When's Blake getting back? I got a meeting tomorrow."
"Soon."
He dropped onto the couch, smirking.
"I'll sit right here. If he really goes as crazy as you say, I'll pin him down myself."
I pulled out the recorder. Hit record.
Chapter 3
More people kept showing up.
Blake's uncle and aunt, Diana's sister, plus relatives who loved lecturing me—they all came.
Not 'cause they were worried about me.
'Cause they were scared I'd make a scene at Morrison & Associates and cost Blake his reputation.
Whole living room packed, everyone staring at me like I was on trial.
Blake's aunt Carol spoke first.
"Ivy honey, you really are too stubborn. Blake's so successful, so many girls want him—you gotta appreciate what you have."
My aunt Linda sighed.
"Your mom says you keep talking about divorce. Once a woman gets divorced, guys don't want her anymore."
Nancy immediately chimed in.
"Blake just can't handle his liquor. Even his doctor said it's like a testosterone thing—he can't help it."
I asked:
"Which doctor said that?"
Nancy choked.
"Does it need a doctor? He's been hot-tempered since he was little."
Amber rolled her eyes.
"Ivy, don't you think it's cold to blame someone who's sick?"
Chase frowned.
"Enough already. A guy treats you well, that should be plenty—who doesn't get pissy when they're drunk?"
I looked at him.
"So it's fine for him to hit me?"
Chase said, annoyed:
"Don't be so dramatic. If he pushed you or whatever, I'm right here—I'll make him say sorry."
I smiled a little.
Then pushed the recorder to the middle of the coffee table.
"Okay, since everyone believes him so much, let's all say something."
Roger's face darkened.
"Say what?"
"Everyone needs to say you're vouching for Blake."
Dead silence in the living room.
I kept going:
"Say if he goes off tonight after drinking, he can't help it."
"That I should understand his condition."
Nancy jumped in first.
"I vouch for him. Blake's my son, nobody knows him like I do. He loves you—just loses control when he drinks."
Roger followed.
"I'll vouch too. With family here, nothing bad'll happen."
Amber sneered.
"Fine, I'll vouch. Happy? Such drama."
Diana's eyes got all red.
"Ivy, Mom vouches. Mom wouldn't hurt you, this's for your own good."
Chase stared at me, voice hard.
"I'll vouch. I'm here—he won't touch you."
Relatives chimed in one after another.
"Couples fight, it's normal."
"If a man's sick, treat it—can't just give up on him."
"Calling cops and divorcing? That's too much."
This time, I recorded every word.
9:58 PM.
Security app showed Blake's car entering the garage.
I stood up.
Nancy got all alert.
"What're you doing now?"
"You all said he only loses it around me, right?"
I pointed at the master bedroom.
"So I won't be around. You all go wait in there and calm him down yourselves."
Amber frowned.
"Why the bedroom?"
I looked at her.
"You all keep saying it's medical, that he doesn't mean it, right?"
"So go in there, turn on the lights, and stop him yourselves. Tell him not to lose it."
Chase stood up, pissed.
"Fine, I'll go. Let's see just how crazy he gets."
Nancy wasn't backing down either.
"Blake listens to me most. I'll go wait for him."
Everyone shuffled into the master bedroom, half-pushed, half-willing.
Lights were still off inside.
Amber, walking in last, bitching:
"It's pitch black, can someone find the light?"
Chase reached toward the wall.
Same second, elevator dinged outside.
Nancy panicked, lowered her voice:
"Wait, don't turn on the light—don't set him off!"
She pulled the bedroom door shut.
I slipped out into the hallway, watching the security feed on my phone.
Behind me, the front door's keypad beeped.
Blake was home.
Entrance camera showed Blake walking in.
Reeked of whiskey, tie hanging loose.
He looked up, saw the empty living room.
"Ivy?"
No answer.
Then he heard the sound came from the bedroom.
In the dark, Chase was still feeling for the light switch.
Door cracked open.
Blake's face went dark instantly.
He thought the person closing the door was me. Thought I was alone in that room.
Rushed toward the bedroom.
"Ivy, you dare hide from me?"
Chase had just stuck half his body out.
Lights still off.
Before he could speak—
Blake's fist came down.
Next second, I heard screaming from inside the room.
