Ch. Mr.chatterbox for her, Mr.Icebox for me? Ice melts and so did my love. 63 Mr.chatterbox for her, Mr.Icebox for me? Ice melts and so did my love. 63

Chapter 4 

Maybe my brain kicked into survival mode. 

I had a breakdown. Couldn’t function. 

Maybe out of pity, Zachary didn’t file to annul the marriage. 

Instead, he took two months off. Dragged me to doctors. 

Therapy-I wouldn’t speak. 

Medication-I refused to take it. 

He even forced me into electroconvulsive therapy. 

The side effects were brutal. Memory damage, cognitive impairment. 

Now I can’t draw anymore. My hands won’t work right. 

Back then, I wasn’t planning on recovering. 

I’d hidden a razor blade behind the bathroom mirror. Waiting for Dad’s sentencing. 

Then I’d end it. 

Zachary figured it out. Lost his temper. 

Pried my mouth open. Shoved the pills down my throat. 

“You think you’re still daddy’s little princess? Grow the hell up.” 

Before, whenever I had to take medicine, I’d pout and stall. 

And Zachary would coax me, endlessly patient: 

“Come on, sweetheart. Just swallow and I’ll give you a candy after.” 

This time? No candy. 

The second he let go, I spit them out. 

Chapter 4 

He ran out of patience. Stood over me, cold. 

“Look at yourself. I shouldn’t even be here.” 

“Then leave.” 

He slammed the door. Chain-smoked in the living room all night. 

The next day, Quinn showed up. 

They fought. Voices raised. 

“Zach, you’re a decorated cop with a real future ahead of you. She’s a mob boss’s daughter! Why are you still doing 

this?” 

Long silence. Then Zachary’s voice, low and exhausted: 

“I took care of her for ten years. You don’t just walk away from that overnight.” 

Ten years. And I’m just an obligation now. 

The arguing stopped. Then I heard them kissing. 

In the apartment my father bought for me. 

I burst out. Smashed everything within reach. 

Including our framed wedding photo. 

Zachary pulled Quinn behind him-the exact same way he used to protect me. 

Watched me spiral. Didn’t intervene. 

Quinn played scared: 

“See? I told you. Her father’s daughter through and through. Violent. Dangerous.” 

Hearing her talk about Dad like that-I lost it. 

Grabbed a glass shard. Went for them both. 

Zachary kicked me back. Hard enough to knock the wind out. 

His voice was ice: 

15:58 

Chapter 4 

“That’s it, Wren. I’m done feeling sorry for you.” 

The day Zachary filed the annulment, Dad’s sentence came down. 

Life. No parole. 

Through the prison glass, tears ran down his face. 

He saw it immediately-that I’d already given up. 

“Baby girl, please. Live. I’m begging you.” 

He’d already made arrangements. 

A trust fund overseas. Managed by a firm abroad. 

My father had never begged for anything in his life. 

So I thought, [Okay. I’ll try.] 

The last time I saw Zachary was outside the station. 

He looked at me. Said two words: 

“Good luck.” 

That was it. 

The story was end. 

The car slid into the tunnel. Everything went dark except the amber overhead lights. 

Then my phone screen lit up. Harsh and white. 

Unknown number. 

“Hello?” 

Zachary’s voice: