Page 105 of Single Mom's Bikers

The story spills out like poison, finally draining.

I was too young to know better, too naïve to see the chains he was already tightening around me. He swept into my life like a prince from a twisted fairy tale—expensive suits, fast cars, effortless charm that made everyone around him lean in. And I fell. Hard.

I was in my first year of college, studying accounting, barely scraping by on scholarships and late-night shifts at a diner. Luca was my escape. He made me feel like I was something more than just a girl struggling to survive.

He sent flowers to my dorm. Bought gifts I could never afford. Took me to places I had no business being in. And when I protested, when I said I didn’t belong in his world, he’d tilt my chin up with those strong fingers and whisper,“You belong wherever I put you, querida.”

“I mistook possession for devotion. He made it so easy to need him. At first, it was small things—encouraging me to skip classes, telling me I didn’t need to work because he could take care of me. Why study when I had him? He framed it like love. Like protection. And when I finally let go of the things that made me independent, he closed the cage. Locked the door.

“I stopped seeing my friends. It happened so slowly that I didn’t even realize it at first. He didn’t like how they looked at me, how they filled my head with ‘nonsense’ about ambition and careers. He’d brush a strand of hair behind my ear and say,‘I give you everything. Why would you need them?’

“My phone disappeared one day. He said, ‘You don’t need distractions.’ A professor who showed concern mysteriously lost his job. Luca said, ‘He was inappropriate, and I handled it.’ The waitressing job I loved? Gone. He bought the diner and shut it down, saying, ‘Now, you don’t have to work.’ It wasn’t love. It was control. And by the time I saw it for what it was, I had nowhere to go.

“Then came the ring. At nineteen, I walked down an aisle lined with flowers I didn’t pick toward a man I was already terrified of. But I smiled. I kissed him when they told me to. I was already trapped—what was one more shackle?

“The first time he hit me, I was pregnant with Daisy.” My voice catches. “I dropped a glass at dinner. Ruined the tablecloth his mother gave us.”

Chase makes a sound like pain. When I glance up, his hands have curled into fists.

“He apologized after. Bought me diamonds. Said it would never happen again.” A bitter laugh escapes. “It always happened again.”

I tell them about the years of abuse and how Luca controlled every aspect of my life while maintaining his respectable image, how pregnancy gave him more weapons—more ways to ensure my obedience.

“Violet’s birth…” I have to pause and breathe through memories. “He wanted a son. When the doctor said girl, something in him broke. The abuse got worse.”

“Jesus.” Zane’s voice cracks. He moves to sit beside me, not touching but close. Offering support I don’t deserve.

“But he made mistakes.” Steel enters my voice now. “Got careless. Thought I was too broken to fight back.”

I explain about the money, how I learned his systems, passwords, and routines, how I siphoned funds slowly and carefully, and how I built my escape fund while playing dutiful wife.

“Rose helped set up accounts. Used legitimate business to clean what I stole.”

“Rose.” Chase scoffs. “Another liar.”

“She saved us.” The defense comes automatically. “When I had nowhere else to run?—”

“Because you helped her first.” Rick’s interruption surprises me. At my look, he continues, “Draven heard things while they had him. About federal agents and betrayal.”

Of course. More secrets unraveling.

“Yes.” I stare at my hands—steady now, when they should shake. “I helped others escape him first. Women. Children. Rose’s family was one of them.”

“Before she was FBI?” Zane asks quietly.

“During.” The admission costs me. “She told me she was a private investigator, investigating him when?—”

A cry from the bedroom cuts me off. Violet’s voice, high with fear.

41

EVIE

I race to the room,but Rick beats me there. Through the door, I watch him gather my daughter close, whispering comfort. Watch her small arms wrap around his neck, trusting despite everything.

“Shh, princess.” His voice carries love I don’t deserve. “You’re safe. We’ve got you.”

“The bad men?” She burrows closer.

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