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She was telling me that like I wouldn’t believe her.

“I believe you, Joy. I know he was crazy.” I brushed a strand of hair away from her wet cheek. “How did you get away?”

“He kept saying crazy things like, I was supposed to be his wife. And that wives never testified against their husbands. Apparently, he’d seen me at the police station.” Joy shivered. “He must have been following me for months, Graham… Months.”

Joy shuddered, and I pulled her against me, as close as I could. If I could cut myself open so that she could burrow into my warmth, I would have. “How did you get away? How did he manage to cut you?”

“He said he’d made a mistake in choosing me. He said I wasn’t worthy.” Joy wasn’t looking at me. She was caught up in the past.

“My brothers had taught me self-defense, and Seth made me take a refresher course before I went to London. I knew I had to break free of his hold and hopefully incapacitate him. He was holding on tight to me, so I went limp, and he lost his grip. I fell to the ground. When he bent to pick me up, I shoved both of my feet into his balls. He fell over, howling. I got to my feet and started running. The only place I could think of was the Smythes’ house.”

“When I got to the front door, it was locked. I could feel him coming up the stairs behind me. I pounded on the door, and it still didn’t open,” she said. “It just didn’t open,” she whispered.

“You’re here in Tennessee, baby. I’ve got you.”

“He yelled that I was the wrong choice.”

Joy hadn’t heard me. She was lost in her story.

“He said it over and over again. He said I wasn’t worthy. I tried to pound on the door again, but he had me pressed against it, so I couldn’t move. I could smell his breath. It was sour. He told me I had to die. He lifted the knife. He was aiming for my heart. I didn’t want him to stab me in the front, so I jerked hard. He was only holding me with one hand, and I managed to shove my face against the door.”

Rage like I’d never felt before roared through me. I could picture a younger Joy, in the hands of a madman with a knife, begging for help, nowhere to go. If I ever got my hands on this motherfucker, I’d kill him. I’d rip him apart.

She stopped talking. “Graham?” she said hesitantly. “Are you all right?”

Fuck, I needed to mask my feelings. I took a deep breath, then gave her a gentle smile.

“Then what?” I prompted.

“I felt the knife tear into me as the door opened. I fell inside onto the marble floor. Mrs. Smythe said I cracked my head hard against the marble floor. I remember nothing after that until I woke up in the hospital.”

“Jesus, Joy. Was it Mrs. Smythe who opened the door? Did the attacker come into the house?”

Joy shook her head, her hair flying around her face.

“She saw my attacker, but he was already running away, so she couldn’t describe him. But I saw him. She finally believed me. She was waiting in my hospital room when I woke up. She begged me to forgive her for ever doubting me. She stayed with me a lot of the time I was in the hospital. She was really nice.”

“Bullshit. There wasn’t anything nice about that at all. She was covering her own ass. How bad were you hurt?”

“The knife didn’t go too deep. My ribcage stopped it.”

“Fuck,” I whispered.

“Between that and the concussion, I had to stay in the hospital for three days.” She looked at me with a little grin. “They call it ‘in hospital’, not in the hospital. It’s kind of weird.”

“Yeah, sure,” I gritted out. “What did your parents say when they got there?”

She looked down and played with the hem of my shirt.

“Joy?”

“When I woke up, I had a terrible headache. I was really out of it. I was confused, and the police were there. Mrs. Smythe was there, and she was so nice. When I talked about calling my family, she worried about how upset they would be. She asked me if I really wanted to distress them over something that was already done, especially since my contract wasn’t done.”

“That manipulative bitch!”

“Looking back on things, I can tell she was just looking out for herself. Her husband was a big-time barrister. That’s a⁠—”

“I know, a lawyer,” I interrupted her. “And he knew the kind of lawsuit you could file against him.”