A Caged Songbird's Escape: Into the Arms of a Predator novel Chapter 1

For years, Elissa Drummond had been Frank Atwater's little shadow.

At twenty-one, she finally got her wish and married him.

The reason was simple: Elissa was obedient, sensible, and always knew her place.

She could get his family off his back about settling down.

And, when the time came, she'd know how to step aside for the woman he truly loved.

Three years into their marriage, Elissa had played the role of the perfect, understanding wife to perfection.

Until the night Frank's older brother died unexpectedly, and Frank—her ever self-controlled, dignified husband—shielded his sister-in-law from the family's rage and took a slap meant for her. That night, Elissa realized her part in this marriage had come to its final act: it was time to make space.

The man she'd blocked for three years suddenly called her.

"When are you coming back?"

Elissa ignored the question. Instead, she messaged her lawyer friend, asking her to draw up divorce papers as soon as possible.

…

When the call ended, it was nearly three in the morning. Elissa sat in her car, staring out at the lights still blazing in Atwater Manor.

From the hospital to the old estate, the Atwater family's grief over losing their eldest son had only one target for their anger.

—Marcia Carson.

And Frank, her husband, who had spent three years acting the dignified gentleman, had never once stopped protecting his sister-in-law.

The red mark from the slap at the hospital stood out sharply against his handsome face.

Everyone present had been shocked by his actions.

Everyone except Elissa. She hadn't been surprised in the slightest.

Three days earlier, on their wedding anniversary, Elissa had planned a surprise for Frank. She'd caught a last-minute flight to the city where he was on business. But when she arrived, she overheard him talking with two of his friends.

"Frank, man, you can't just disappear every year on your anniversary. Seriously, you don't think you owe little Elissa better than that?"

Frank, usually so poised and gentle, sounded almost weary. "You think I want to? If I didn't, she'd never believe I haven't touched her all these years."

"Who—"

His friend, indignant on Elissa's behalf, suddenly caught on. His tone turned sharp, mocking. "You mean Marcia? Frank, you're out of your mind. What if Marcia's pregnant with her second kid and you're still hung up on her?"

He changed tack. "And aren't you worried about Rowan coming after you for treating Elissa like this?"

"He won't," Frank replied, rubbing his fingers together. "He and Elissa haven't spoken since our wedding. She blocked him everywhere three years ago."

Outside the private room, Elissa walked away calmly, though her fingers trembled imperceptibly at her side.

She'd always known Frank had someone else in his heart.

She'd tried to find out who, asking everyone she could, but no one ever told her.

She'd imagined all sorts of possibilities.

Never—never—had she considered it might be Marcia.

The same Marcia she'd called "sister" for three years.

It was humiliating beyond words.

When Elissa left the club, a torrential rain was falling. She didn't even feel it, letting herself get soaked to the skin.

That night, she caught a red-eye back to Vistapeak City.

She fell ill the moment she got home.

Feverish for two days straight, she'd only just recovered when the news came: Frank's brother, Spencer Atwater, had died in an accident.

Elissa frowned slightly, glancing at Frank for confirmation.

He pressed his lips together. "My parents are still furious. Let Marcia and Hickey stay with us for a while."

He seemed worried she'd say no, so he added, "Didn't you say you wanted kids? Think of this as practice—taking care of Hickey."

Elissa almost laughed out loud.

But this wasn't the time or place for laughter.

So Frank would send Marcia and her son home with her, while he returned alone to face the family's wrath.

Responsible, in his own way.

Back at the house, it was clear Frank had called ahead. Edna, the housekeeper, had already prepared a guest room.

Elissa couldn't have been more relieved. After a quick shower, she collapsed into bed and slept like the dead.

When she woke again, it was nine at night.

No sooner had she picked up her phone than her best friend called.

"I've drafted the divorce agreement like you asked. Want me to send it over?"

"Thanks, Tanya."

Elissa's voice was soft from sleep. "No need to send it. Just call a courier."

"You're really in a hurry—are you sure about this?"

Tanya Foster had handled too many divorces not to worry this was just a moment of anger. "Frank might not be a good husband, but in some ways—"

Elissa turned on the light and sat up, her mind clearer than ever. "I'm sure, Tanya. He jerks off to pictures of other women."