Chapter1
“I’m a huge fan of yours. You are such an inspiration to me. To a lot of women.”
Gabrielle King looked up from her phone and stared at the woman, grabbing her bags with gusto from the leather couch in the private lounge. A smile was plastered on her face, brighter than the moon shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was too damn early in the morning to stomach compliments. Especially ones she didn’t deserve.
“Thank you,” Gabrielle pushed the words from her mouth. Every time she was drawn into a conversation like this was more brutal than the last. As fucked up as she still was, how in the hell did so many women see her as an inspiration? It was something she didn’t think she would ever get used to.
“What’s your name?”
“Stacy Jackson,” she said, then looked away.
Gabrielle knew without her saying a word that Stacy shared the same demons, the same traumatic past, that she had. Maybe not in the same way, but enough to mark them as kindred spirits because of men who’d harassed, tormented, and tried to destroy them.
But they’d both survived.
She squeezed the woman’s hand. “Despite my claim to fame, I don’t try to arm-twist every woman into telling their story on my show.” She chuckled under her breath, which caused Stacy to smile.
“That would be an honor, but my story is nowhere near as heinous as what you went through,” Stacy said, tucking a duffel bag under her arm as she gripped the Louis Vuitton roller bag in her opposite hand.
Gabrielle swallowed hard as memories of his hands around her neck slammed into her mind. His grip tightened as he glared at her with conflicting emotions. Lust. Hatred. Calm. Sweet. Deranged. His words flooded her veins with pure panic as he yelled at her through gritted teeth. Saliva spewing from his mouth, he banged her head against the splintered wooden walls as he demanded to know … How could you do this to me? How could you be with them and not me!
Stacy continued, “Countless women have suffered much more than me.”
Gabrielle brushed a wayward strand of hair from her face with a shaking hand. “But the pain is still real. The fight to get your life back is just as tough.”
Stacy nodded. “I bought your book and write every night in your Emerge Anew journals. It’s made a huge difference in helping me take my life back. All of that is because of you.”
“I don’t know about that,” Gabrielle said, rubbing her temple.
Somedays, she could conquer the world, and on others, like today, all she felt was lost. Dragging herself out of bed in the early morning hours to head to the airport had her on edge. The importance of what she needed to do weighed on her like a gorilla on her back.
“Truth is, I’ve learned so much from other women in similar situations,” Gabrielle explained. “I paid attention to how they persevered and got past it all. The book culminates all the processes I’ve witnessed in others, not just mine.”
“Look at you being so modest. I think that’s why we’re so drawn to you. It’s your openness and honesty.”
Open?
Honest?
A decade ago, those words would never have been used to describe her. Try spoiled, entitled, snobbish, and … cruel. As a teenager, she was the epitome of the mean girl—the most popular and powerful person at her private school, ruling with an iron fist and no compassion.
But that had all changed when she was taken.
Kidnapped and held hostage for five days with no hope of ever being found.
She’d thought she’d die in that shed hidden within the trees of the Cabrito Mountains. But not until after he’d had his way with her. Taken the one thing he’d coveted most.
The fact that she survived him still amazed her.
The miracle that changed her life.
“You had no reason to share your story with the world.” Stacy insisted, her voice growing more passionate. “You don’t need the money. Everything you did was to help women who found themselves victims of assholes. Sharing your pain helped me and so many other women join you on that healing journey. I’m so proud you have the courage to face the bastard who kidnapped you. I can’t believe they’re seriously thinking about giving him parole.”
“Neither can I,” Gabrielle admitted. Anger crawled along her skin at the thought of convincing the parole board that serving ten of the thirty years that Damian Hester had been convicted of was not nearly enough. She’d been shocked to learn about the groups who supported his release, casting her family in a negative light. The accusations that the considerable wealth and power of the King Family had resulted in Damian getting an excessive sentence. Far longer than he would’ve received if he’d held anyone else hostage. But since he’d taken the youngest daughter of one of the most influential families in the Palmchat Islands, he was unduly burdened with an unfair sentence.
It was bullshit.
Damian had put a metal collar around her neck and padlocked her to a chain in the corner of the room. She was starved for five days, with only a few slices of bread and water to eat daily. She lived in filth, unable to use the bathroom or shower. And all the while, she fought the panic of wondering when he would make good on his promise to “make love” to her.
