The low sun peeked over the conifers in the back garden to bathe the kitchen in early morning light. Faith was sitting at the breakfast table with a freshly brewed cup of coffee and a warm croissant smothered in butter and a smear of jam. The deep red of the raspberries was enough to give her flashbacks to that terrible day, if she had a mind to, which she didn’t. She wiped a blob of jam from the corner of her mouth and sucked her finger clean before picking up the papers scattered on the table.

Her future remained an evolving beast, but it was nice to see there were so many opportunities coming her way. There were requests for exclusive interviews, which she had initially declined only to receive new and improved offers. There was even an approach from a publisher to write a book, but Faith wasn’t sure how any of this would be received by her growing army of supporters. The money raised in her name was more than enough to keep Faith comfortable for the time being and she didn’t want to appear mercenary. She wasn’t mercenary. She simply had a strong belief that she deserved her fair share of life after too many years of suffering.

Faith had grown up in near poverty, missing out on a university education and the career path she deserved because, dead or alive, neither of her parents had sought a better life for their daughter. When Derek came along, she hadn’t fallen for him as much as his lifestyle, but she had been a good wife and hostess. She had tried to be a good stepmother too, but it had all been for nothing. Derek hadn’t appreciated a wife who had a will of her own, and when his interest had waned, he found fresh amusement by humiliating her. The first time her husband had pressed the sharp edge of a knife to her neck, Faith refused to be scared off. What followed was a race to secure a future at the other’s expense.