Jenna unzipped the black suitcase. She opened the closet drawers and completely ignored the velvet boxes filled with diamonds and the silk designer gowns.
She grabbed a few pairs of faded jeans and plain cotton shirts she had bought before she married Alonzo. She threw them into the suitcase. She dug into a hidden compartment in her jewelry box and pulled out her passport and birth certificate, tossing them on top of the clothes.
Just as she reached for the zipper to close the bag, the aggressive roar of a sports car engine tore through the quiet estate. The screech of tires braking hard echoed outside her window.
Jenna walked to the window. She pulled back the edge of the heavy velvet curtain. Alonzo's black Aston Martin was parked diagonally across the pristine driveway.
Downstairs, the massive front doors slammed open with a violent crash. Heavy, rapid footsteps pounded up the solid oak staircase. The sheer force of the steps radiated pure rage.
Jenna dropped the curtain. She walked briskly to the bedroom door and pressed the brass lock button on the knob. It clicked into place.
A second later, the brass handle twisted violently from the outside. The metal rattled hard against the frame.
Realizing the door was locked, Alonzo slammed his fist against the heavy wood.
"Open this door right now!" Alonzo roared.
Jenna stood on the inside of the room. She took a slow breath, letting the air fill her lungs. She reached out, twisted the lock, and yanked the door open.
Alonzo stormed into the room, bringing a wave of cold outside air with him. His custom-tailored suit jacket was unbuttoned, and his silk tie was pulled loose. His dark eyes were lethal.
His gaze immediately dropped to the floor. He saw the cheap black suitcase sitting on the expensive Persian rug. A highly mocking, cruel sneer twisted his lips.
He stepped directly into Jenna's personal space. His towering frame cast a dark shadow over her.
"What kind of sick game are you playing?" he demanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
Jenna took a half-step back, avoiding the smell of his expensive cologne. She looked him dead in the eye.
"I want a divorce. Immediately," she repeated.
Alonzo looked at her as if she had just told the funniest joke in the world. He reached out his hand, aiming to pinch her chin between his fingers like she was a disobedient pet.
Jenna turned her head in disgust. She brought her arm up and slapped his hand away. The smack of skin against skin was loud and sharp.
Alonzo's hand froze in mid-air. The color drained from his face, replaced by a dark, furious red. His submissive, fragile wife had never physically fought back before.
He slowly lowered his hand. He adjusted his suit cuff, a habitual gesture he used when asserting absolute dominance. He deployed his usual psychological warfare.
"Look at yourself," Alonzo said, his tone dripping with venom. "You have a high school diploma. You have zero work experience. Without the Knight family trust fund, you don't even have enough money to rent a rat-infested room in the slums. You are nothing without me."
Jenna stared at him. In her past life, those exact words used to crush her chest and make her feel utterly worthless. Now, they just made her stomach churn with nausea.
"I would rather sleep under a bridge than spend another second in this sickening house with you," Jenna fired back, her voice laced with pure disgust.
That sentence pierced straight through Alonzo's massive, fragile ego. The veins in his neck bulged. The anger in his eyes ignited into a violent fire.
He lunged forward and grabbed the handle of the black suitcase. He swung it with all his strength and hurled it across the room. The suitcase smashed into the far wall. The zipper busted open, and her cheap clothes scattered across the floor.
Jenna didn't scream. She didn't flinch. She just stood there, watching him lose his mind with the cold, detached eyes of a stranger.
That absolute, uncontrollable indifference sent a spike of unknown panic into Alonzo's chest. He convinced himself she had suffered a complete mental breakdown.
He pointed a long finger right at her face. "Until your brain starts working properly again, you are not taking a single step out of this room."
He turned on his heel and marched out of the bedroom.
Jenna realized what he was doing. She lunged toward the doorway, trying to slip out before he could close it.
Alonzo grabbed the edge of the heavy solid wood door and pulled it shut with brutal force. The edge of the wood barely missed crushing Jenna's fingers.
The heavy metal deadbolt clicked loudly from the outside.
Jenna grabbed the handle and twisted it with both hands. The door didn't budge an inch. She was locked inside her own bedroom.
From the hallway, she heard Alonzo's voice, low and cold, giving orders to Hector. His footsteps faded down the corridor. A moment later, there was a soft scraping sound near the baseboard—the telephone jack panel being opened from the hallway side, followed by a quiet, final snip.
