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Escaping His Cage: The Phoenix Wife Returns Novel Cover

Escaping His Cage: The Phoenix Wife Returns

Two minutes before midnight on the eve of my wedding, my phone buzzed. I expected a sweet text from my groom, Liam. Instead, I received a photo of him with his lips inches from another woman's neck. The caption read: "He's celebrating his last night of freedom. Are you sure you want to be the jailer?" I didn't scream. I didn't cancel the wedding. I walked down the aisle the next morning and looked at his handsome face. I saw the scratch on his wrist—a souvenir from his mistress, Ava. Later, I overheard him tell his best man that I was just the "safe bet," a boring broodmare to provide an heir while he had fun with her. He thought I was a naive girl who believed in fairy tales. He thought he had secured his perfect life when I said, "I do." But he was wrong. When I discovered I was pregnant a few days later, I didn't celebrate. I realized this baby wasn't a blessing; it was a lock on my cage. Liam wanted a dynasty? He wanted a legacy? I looked at the positive test in my hand and made a cold, hard choice. I wasn't going to just leave him. I was going to destroy him. I wiped my tears, packed my documents, and prepared to burn his entire world to ash. The war had just begun.
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Chapter 7

Maya POV

The heavy silence in the penthouse didn't just break; it detonated.

"You think you can just leave?" Liam's voice dropped to a subterranean growl. He crumpled the medical report in his fist until the paper groaned. "After what you did?"

He lunged.

It wasn't the refined, elegant movement of a CEO. It was the raw, violent impulse of a predator denied its prize. He clamped his hands onto my upper arms, his fingers digging into my already bruised flesh like talons.

"You moved the money," he hissed, shaking me until my teeth rattled. "I got the alert an hour ago. You liquidated the trust your grandmother left. You think I didn't know?"

"It's my money," I said through gritted teeth. The pain in my arms was sharp, but the pain in my lower abdomen—a dull, sickening ache from the procedure—was worse.

"It's marital assets!" he roared, spittle flying from his lips. "You stole from me!"

"I took what was mine," I spat back, adrenaline momentarily dulling the agony. "Just like I took back my body."

His eyes went dark. Pure, unadulterated hatred flashed there. He didn't see his wife. He saw a thief. A rebellious possession that had malfunctioned.

"Get out," Ava said from the corner. Her voice was trembling, but her eyes were gleaming with triumphant malice. "Liam, throw her out. She's poison."

"Oh, I'm going to do more than that," Liam said icily.

He dragged me toward the door. I stumbled, my feet tangling in the plush rug. I wasn't wearing shoes, just socks.

"Liam, stop!" I cried out as he yanked me into the hallway. "You're hurting me!"

He didn't stop. He marched me to the elevator, his grip like iron. We went down to the private garage in a suffocating silence. He opened the passenger door of his SUV and shoved me inside.

I hit my head against the doorframe. White-hot pain burst behind my eyes. Stars exploded in my vision.

"Where are we going?" I gasped, clutching my stomach. The cramping was getting worse, twisting inside me like a knotted rope. Sharp stabs of pain radiated through my pelvis.

"Somewhere you can think about what you've done," he said, slamming the door with finality.

He drove like a madman. The city lights blurred into streaks of neon violence. He didn't speak. He just gripped the steering wheel so hard the leather creaked under the strain.

We drove for an hour. The buildings fell away, replaced by the dark, looming shapes of trees. He turned onto a gravel road that led toward the old quarry, miles from the nearest suburb.

He slammed on the brakes. The car skidded to a halt in the middle of nowhere. Rain had started to fall, drumming against the roof like shrapnel.

"Get out," he said.

"Liam, please," I whispered. I could feel something wet and warm spreading between my legs. "I'm bleeding. I need a doctor."

"You're lying," he sneered, refusing to look at me. "You're always playing the victim. Get out!"

He reached across, opened my door, and shoved me.

I fell out onto the wet gravel. The cold rain soaked me instantly. My socks turned to mush in the mud.

"Walk home," he said, his voice devoid of humanity. "Maybe by the time you get back to the city, you'll remember who pays for your life."

He slammed the door. The engine roared. He spun the car around, spraying me with mud and rocks, and sped off into the darkness.

I was alone.

I tried to stand up, but a jagged bolt of pain shot through my abdomen, stealing the breath from my lungs. It doubled me over. I touched my legs. My pants were soaked. Not just with rain.

Blood.

Too much blood.

The doctor had warned me about complications. *Heavy bleeding. Infection. Rupture.*

I fumbled for my phone in my pocket. It wasn't there. It must have fallen out in the car. Or maybe Liam had taken it.

"Help," I croaked. The wind swallowed my voice before it even left my lips.

I started to crawl. I didn't know where I was going, just that I couldn't stay here. The cold was seeping into my bones, numbing the pain but making my limbs feel like lead.

I thought about my parents. They had divorced when I was young. My mother had withered away, consumed by a broken heart. I had promised myself I would never be pathetic like her.

I dragged myself toward the tree line, seeking shelter. My vision tunneled. The darkness at the edges of my sight began to creep inward.

*I am going to die here,* I thought, the realization calm and terrifying. *He actually killed me.*

And then, nothing. Just the sound of the rain and the terrifying silence of my own heart slowing down.

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