Filed To Story: The Saltwater Curse Book PDF Free
PROLOGUE
How would I sleep at night if I killed him right now?
Peacefully, I think.
I would only regret I didn’t do it sooner.
The pristine marble floor and the clean, white cupboard doors go in and out of focus. Tears trickle from the corners of my eyes, twining with the crimson trickle of blood leaking from the gash on my forehead, blazing a path onto the cold floor. If I move, he might kick me again.
It’s my fault.
I should have known better than to bring my emotions home.
Tommy is particular. He has certain expectations of his fianc?e, and being upset over the third anniversary of my father’s death isn’t one of them. I should have been dolled up, head bowed, with dinner served on the table the moment he stepped through the imposing wooden door.
I should have done better.
The pain in my side is a faint ache, the bruise along my cheek a distant thought.
All I wanted was to visit the beach where I had spread his ashes, then spend the rest of the day wallowing and choking on my grief over the man who raised me.
I was foolish. I should have seen this punishment coming.
I should have known better.
If I had known the type of person Tommy really was, or what the Gallaghers were up to in the dark of night, I would’ve never applied for the job at his family’s tech company. I wouldn’t have fallen for his charming smile, nor would I have said “yes” when he pulled out a huge diamond ring, asking me—without words—to be his indentured servant. I wish I had seen through the fancy dresses and jewelry he showered me with, all the times he convinced me to stay home with him instead of seeing my friends or my dad.
I should have run the second I laid eyes on him four years ago.
But here I am, regretting every move I made since I met him.
I’m so tired.
“Get the fuck up.” A hand wraps around my arm, yanking me to my feet and adding another bruise to his battered canvas.
He shoves me back, and the corner of the kitchen counter hits the small of my back, sending a piercing jolt up my spine. My hand flies out to support myself against the marble. My wrist brace lands in a pool of water, soaking through the thick fabric as I slide along the counter, fingers grazing the edge of the chopping board I was using when Tommy came barreling in.
I’m not a fan of what I was making. If he didn’t enjoy eating my country’s cuisine, I wasn’t allowed to make it. But he likes tonight’s meal, and what he likes, I like.
And I like… I don’t know what I enjoy anymore.
If Dad were here, he’d stand up for me.
The thought lodges a boulder in my throat. I force myself to suppress a sob so I don’t anger Tommy more. Why didn’t I listen when Dad warned me this man meant trouble? It was the only thing we ever argued about. I wish I could apologize to him now. Dad was the only person I had, and I fought him tooth and nail under the misguided pretense that Tommy was different—special. A man of his word, someone who loved me. I fell for his fa?ade.
Nothing is worth the heated floors, indoor swimming pool, or stupid fucking six-car garage filled with vehicles I’m not allowed to touch.
“Do you think I want to come home to find you looking like shit? Huh?”
I keep my gaze averted. Meeting his eyes never bodes well, at least not anymore.
Silent tears stream down my face as a glint catches my eye, and I try to ignore the light reflecting off the silver blade just inches away from my fingers.
I thought if I did the steak just right, my mood would be forgiven. If the roasted sweet potatoes, broccoli, and carrots were seasoned just right, my appearance would be quickly forgotten.
But again, I knew better.
I’m so sorry for disappointing you, Dad.
“I was nice enough to let you have a day off. Maybe I shouldn’t have if you can’t appreciate everything I do for you.”
Do for me? What the fuck do you do for me, Tommy? Because I’d absolutely love to know.
I was given a credit card I’m not allowed to use. If I get groceries, I have to show him the receipt. If I need a dress for an event, his assistant gets it for me. If I want to visit Dad’s memorial, I need permission—and he always says no. If I breathe too loud, I get yelled at. If I blink too much, I’m glared at.
The only thing Tommy has ever done for me is hate every single aspect of my existence.
I stare blankly to the side, the knife’s plastic handle taunting me, orange carrot residue pebbled along the serrated edge.
Speak when spoken to. Bend over when told. Spread my legs when he wants.
He doesn’t want a wife. He wants a servant.
Dad would be disappointed to see what I’ve become.
I clench my jaw, trying to stop my body from trembling.
“Do you know how many girls want to be in your position? I could have my pick from a hundred of them, but I chose you to be my wife. And you’ve been nothing but ungrateful.”
Then why did you do it, Tommy?
Was it the brightness in my eyes when you found me fresh from university? Or did you decide I would make the perfect victim when you discovered I had the skills required to elevate your business?
I had dreams, Tommy. Hope. Real talent. I could have made a difference, saved lives. I was meant to soar.
I would have been everything without you.
But you killed me, Thomas Gallagher.
You and your brother, John, buried me alive.
He slaps my cheek, and my head whips to the side as the sound of skin colliding with skin ripples through the plain room. Red blossoms along my cheek, burning a path straight to my still-beating heart. “You would be nothing without me, Kristy.”
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
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