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I suppose I did look rather frightening.

It was all superficial blood and cuts. That most likely would bruise, maybe scar.

That’s what made it worse. I’d rather have internal bleeding than superficial injuries.

That I could at least hide from people. No one saw internal bleeding, or an organ healing.

I silently cried, glaring out the window.

But everyone could see this.

Everyone would see me weak.

I flinched as mom threw her dishes in the sink, leaving the room. Dad stared at her as she walked out for a second time.

I had never seen her carry a dish to the kitchen. I was surprised she even knew where the main kitchen was in the house.

“Are you sure about this?”

Lowering the ice from my jaw. “Am I sure about this? Are you serious Daddy? I’ve faced warlords who have more respect for me than him.”

And that said a lot. Respect in our world wasn’t something I got easily.

Thanks to Nikolai, the Voss family was under the impression it wasn’t me who had destroyed their drugs.

Even though I wanted to take credit. Nik insisted it would only complicate things.

But Noah would have to know it was me.

I had stolen his car and had left it there. I still wasn’t sure how he explained that to his family.

“Everything I’ve planned is ruined just like that.” Mom walked back in, still furious. “Months of planning, months and months.”

It was almost like she couldn’t see what he had done to me.

“I told you both when I agreed to the engagement. It was basically a trial. I will not spend my life with an angry man.”

Holding the ice back quickly. It still hurt to speak. Even the next day. The swelling was getting worse.

“Maddy, think of what people will say. What everyone will think.”

Slipping off the stool, “Great idea. Should I take some photos?” I would not let this be my life. Throwing the ice pack into the sink.

“Don’t forget your involvement in this too, Maddy.” Mum yelled at my back.

“Right. I kneed him in the balls, when he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Then he hit me. Repeatedly.”

“Had he been drinking?”

I turned to look at dad. “Is that an excuse?”

“No, but maybe it was a once off, an overreaction. He read the situation wrong.” Mom added. Still so desperate about this wedding.

“If he can hit me drunk, he can hit me sober. Regardless, there is no excuse.”

I twirled my hair up; I would not cover these bruises.

“I’m not marrying him,” straightening my shoulders back. “Sorry, but the wedding is over. And Daddy,” I pointed my finger at him. “You tell Noah Voss that he will be paying for any cosmetic surgery I need if this ends up scarring.”