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“Mrs. Steppe⁠—”

Her palm cracks across my cheek hard enough to turn my head. The sting blooms hot over my skin.

“You forgot yourself,” she says.

I touch my cheek. It burns beneath my fingertips.

“No,” I say quietly. “I think I’m remembering.”

She looks around the room, her gaze landing on Nathaniel’s belt. She pushes past me and grabs it, the black leather dangling from her hand.

My blood turns cold.

She snaps it once. The crack slices through the room. I flinch before I can stop myself.

“Oh,” she says. “Good.”

I back up one step. “Put that down.”

“I don’t answer to you.” She walks toward me slowly, the belt loose in her hand. “You answer to me.”

I move to the side. “I’m warning you.”

“No, Ella. I’m warning you.”

The belt comes down before I can move.

Fire explodes across my upper arm.

I gasp and stumble back against the edge of the bed. For a second, I’m too stunned to react.

Audrey raises the belt again. “You don’t belong here. You don’t belong in this bed. You don’t belong in this house except on your knees scrubbing the floors.”

The second strike catches my shoulder.

I cry out.

The camera watches.

Audrey draws the belt back again.

I grab it. The leather burns against my palm as she yanks.

I yank back. Hard.

She stumbles one step. “You little bitch,” she hisses.

She jerks the belt, and I lose my grip, but not before I shove her with my free hand.

Audrey’s face twists. She swings again. This time I duck. The belt snaps against the bedpost.

I lunge for her wrist.

We collide awkwardly, and I grab her arm. We stumble into the covered chair near the wall. It topples. I hit my shin against the wooden leg and pain shoots up to my knee.

Audrey claws at my face. I catch her wrist before she reaches my eye.

“Stop it,” I say.