Chapter 3

"Chloe Peterson."

Ryan's voice was low and magnetic. I nervously looked up, met his gaze, and then quickly looked away.

"She'll do. She's in."

"She'll *do*? What do you mean?"

I listened to the questioning, nervous but also eager for Ryan's answer.

"More straightforward than any of you."

I froze for a moment. I'd always been labeled 'honest,' but this was the first time anyone had ever called me 'straightforward.' I looked up, but Ryan had already gotten up. All I saw was his retreating back in the dark coat.

*

"Chloe Peterson."

Ryan's voice was still low and magnetic, but his tone was strictly official. My gaze had nowhere to land, so it settled on my red painted nails.

"Your husband claims he didn't know you were prostituting yourself. He said he lashed out because he blacked out with rage. Do you agree with this statement?"

I clenched my hands, my body trembling slightly before completely slumping, like a puddle, a deflated rag doll in the chair.

"He knew. He was trying to kill me."

I looked up, but I didn't have the courage to meet Ryan's eyes. I just stared at the hand holding his pen. His hands were still as beautiful as I remembered. My resolve crumpled, and I shifted my gaze away from his hands.

"He forced me into prostitution."

"Elaborate."

Ryan didn't question me, which surprised me. Even my own parents didn't believe me; they even cut ties with me.

"I had a hysterectomy."

"Because of an infection from the stillbirth."

"My baby was just 97 days from being born."

I spoke with difficulty, my throat raw. As my emotions teetered on the edge of breaking, a cup of water appeared before me. The hand holding the cup had prominent knuckles. I looked up. My eyes were full of tears, and the overhead lights blurred through them, making everything swim, even Ryan, standing before me, appeared to have a double.

Perhaps it was that blurred vision that gave me the courage not to look away.

"They said since I couldn't bear a son for their lineage, couldn't give the 'family name' an heir, then I should earn money for their family instead."

"They forced me into prostitution."

Maybe my gaze made Ryan uncomfortable; he deliberately looked away, walked back, and sat down.

"We will investigate and verify your claims. If they are true, we will prosecute to the fullest extent of the law and get you justice."

Hearing his official tone, I lowered my head, no longer trying to hide my handcuffed hands. The silver surface reflected my face, heavily made up, like a ghost. I scoffed at myself. I couldn't even remember what my face looked like without makeup in college, let alone Ryan.

"Why did the baby... become stillborn?"

Ryan's voice had softened, but his question ignited my emotions. My body began to tremble uncontrollably.

"They made me drink something."

"What kind of 'something'?"

Seeing the confused expression on Ryan's face, my reason took control of my emotions, and my body stopped trembling.

"Officer Ryan, do you believe in karma? In poetic justice?"

Ryan paused, then his expression immediately turned serious. "I believe in the fairness and justice of the law."

I didn't speak, just smiled. No wonder he switched schools and majors back then.

But, is there any justice or fairness for *women* in this world?

*

"A girl? How could it be a *girl*?!"

"You worthless jinx! You can't even give birth to a son! What good are you anyway?!"

When I was three months pregnant, my mother-in-law used every trick in the book to find out the baby's gender from the doctor. Right outside the OB/GYN office, she pointed her finger in my face and screamed at me. It was a weekend, and the clinic was crowded. Everyone was staring. My face burned with shame. I tugged at my mother-in-law's sleeve, trying to make her stop, but she just raised her hand and slapped me across the face.