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"Mind if I use your phone for a sec?" I'm testing my luck here. I saw her use it to contact her assistant about getting me those leggings. When they grabbed me from the apartment, my phone was stuffed in my yoga pants waistband. Between the struggle and everything else, I have no clue if they swiped it or it just fell out somewhere.

Ana glances at me with pursed lips, considering me.

"I just want to call my mom," I add. "Let her know I'm okay."

Something softens in Ana's eyes. "Be quick," she says, pulling the device from her pocket.

I thank her profusely as I grab the phone and type the digits of my mom's phone number. She answers after two rings.

"Mom, it's me."

"Olivia! Thank God. I've been so worried. Where are you? Why haven't you answered my calls? Whose number is this?" She rattles off her questions in quick succession.

"Mom, I'm okay," I interject. "I'm safe." The wordsafefeels strange on my tongue. I say it to assure her, but it doesn't feel like a complete lie. It should. How can I possibly feel safe when I've been taken captive by the head of the New Orleans crime family? But at the same time, I do feel safe. Safe in the sense that I don't believe Sam will kill me, or even hurt me. But I also don't believe he's letting me go anytime soon.

"Why haven't you been answering my calls?" she presses.

"I broke my phone," I lie. "I'm using a friend’s right now. I'll get a new one soon, I promise. I just need to save up a little."

I can hear as she hisses out a breath. "Do you need me to send you money?"

"No, I got it."

"You can't be without a phone, Olivia! I'm having Richard send you money right now. Richard?—"

"Mom, no," I say sternly, causing her to pause her shouting to my stepfather. "I can handle this. I want to take care of myself."

That part is true.

Back in Montreal, my life was a series of one mistake after another. Jobs that left me unhappy and an ex who was perfect on the outside and toxic when we were alone.

Part of coming here was to escape the life I left behind. And the other part was to prove to myself that I can do it on my own. No man or mother needed. No more meddling in my life from either of them.

My mom clicks her tongue. "Olivia, I'm just trying to help."

"I know." I scrub a hand over my face. As much as I love my mother, the guilt tripping grates at my nerves.

"You always get so mad when I'm just trying to help you. Why won't you let me help?"

Her words activate me, turning me into the little girl who needs to erase her own feelings in order to make my mother happy.

Just take her help so she'll smile again.

Just tell her staying with dad was awful so she'll feel better.

Just keep dating Rhett because she'll be disappointed if you break up.

One after another, I did whatever my mother wanted in order to make her happy, but never myself. Moving to New Orleans was the first step in breaking that chain.

I suck in a breath and steel my spine. No more caving.

"I hear you. I know you're just trying to help, Mom. But I want to do this on my own, okay? I'll get a new phone and let you know when I have it. Can you trust me?"

I can practically hear her nails tapping, the way her teeth are clenching from not getting her way. But she yields, and I breathe in relief. "Okay. But call me every day. I need to know you're okay down in that hellhole?—"

"I will." I don't know if I can keep that promise, but I decide I'll deal with that later. "I have to go. Bye, Mom."

Hanging up the phone, I hand it back to Ana, thanking her again.