Stabby, and Corinne Michaels Books – I love you more than you’ll ever know.
My agent, Kimberly Brower, I am so happy to have you on my team. Thank you for your guidance and support.
Melissa Erickson, you’re amazing. I love your face.
Vi, Claire, Mandi, Amy, Kristy, Penelope, Kyla, Rachel, Mia, Tijan, Alessandra, Syreeta, Meghan, Laurelin, Kristen, Kendall, Kennedy, Ava, Leylah, and Lauren—Thank you for keeping me striving to be better and loving me unconditionally.
About the Author
New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestseller Corinne Michaels is the author of nine romance novels. She’s an emotional, witty, sarcastic, and fun loving mom of two beautiful children. Corinne is happily married to the man of her dreams and is a former Navy wife.
After spending months away from her husband while he was deployed, reading and writing was her escape from the loneliness. She enjoys putting her characters through intense heartbreak and finding a way to heal them through their struggles. Her stories are chock full of emotion, humor, and unrelenting love.
Forget Me Not
Also by W Winters
Merciless World
A Kiss to Tell
Possessive
Merciless
Heartless
Breathless
Endless
A Kiss To Keep
A Single Glance
A Single Kiss
A Single Touch
Hard to Love
Merciless World Spin Off
It’s Our Secret
Standalone Novels:
Broken
Forget Me Not
Sins and Secrets Duets:
Imperfect (Imperfect Duet book 1)
Unforgiven (Imperfect Duet book 2)
Damaged (Damaged Duet book 1)
Scarred (Damaged Duet book 2)
Willow Winters
Standalone Novels:
Tell Me To Stay
Second Chance
Knocking Boots
Promise Me
Burned Promises
Forsaken, cowritten with B. B. Hamel
Collections
Don’t Let Go
Deepen The Kiss
Valetti Crime Family Series:
Dirty Dom
His Hostage
Rough Touch
Cuffed Kiss
Bad Boy
Highest Bidder Series,
cowritten with Lauren Landish:
Bought
Sold
Owned
Given
Bad Boy Standalones,
cowritten with Lauren Landish:
Inked
Tempted
Mr. CEO
Happy reading and best wishes,
W Winters xx
Part I
Something to Remember
Chapter 1
I used to wonder what I’d done to deserve this. Why he hates me so much.
My stomach rumbles, and the aching pain that used to make me ball up because it was centered in my stomach now shoots through my body. I wince from the pain, but I don’t scream. The stinging in my eyes isn’t from tears. I refuse to shed them.
I’ve made my choice.
This room, in particular, is one I used to be terrified of. Cinder block walls that are damp and cold, and nothing but a blanket to cover me when I sleep on the hard cement floor. The fluorescent lights are horribly bright, and they remind me of the school’s gym lights, but somehow the darkness, when he shuts them off makes the lights unbearable when they’re on.
There’s nowhere to hide when the lights are on.
I lick my dry lips as the pain settles and stare at the steel door until I feel like I can breathe easy again. I’m no longer afraid of the room. The punishment holding, as my father calls it. It will be my salvation. My escape from what fate has offered me.
Even at fourteen years old, I know what life and death are all too well.
I know my mother’s dead. She never hears me when I scream for her. And I always do. I always cry out for her to save me when he makes me hurt and doesn’t stop.
A chill runs through my body, but at the same time my forehead heats and a thin sweat covers my skin. I shudder and think about pulling the blanket up, but the blinking red light in the corner of the room reminds me that he’s watching and I won’t show him that I’m trying anymore.
I don’t want comfort. I don’t want to hope anymore. They’re both useless and make trying and fighting seem reasonable when they aren’t.
Maybe death is an exaggeration. After all I’m starving myself, and he’s thrown me in here with the promise of food if I’ll eat. I don’t want to though. I can’t keep living like this.
This isn’t a life. When my mother died, it was my death sentence to be left in the hands of a monster.
Another spike of pain shoots through me at the same time as I hear the keys jingle on the other side of the steel door. I resist the urge to react to the pain although it’s stronger and more intense than it’s ever been.
I wish it weren’t true, but even as I’ve accepted death as my fate, I’m terrified. I wish it wasn’t fear that ran through me. I wish the adrenaline wouldn’t spike in my blood and my natural instinct wasn’t to cower, but I can’t help it.
I’ve tried hard not to feel anymore, but the fear he’s instilled in me is unbreakable.
Maybe that’s why I hate myself so much. I’m weak and useless. Just like he