I stared at Ethan in disbelief.

Back then, he'd been set up by a competitor vying for market share. I was the one who, at great personal risk, broke into a rival law firm to get the evidence that saved him. And it was in the aftermath of that rescue that I lost our child. He had knelt before me, slapping himself relentlessly, his forehead thudding against the floor as he sobbed.

"Chloe!"

His face was red and swollen, blood and tears smearing his cheeks, his voice choked with grief.

"If I, Ethan, ever wrong you in this life, may I be struck down and die a thousand deaths!"

"I, Ethan," he’d vowed, "for the rest of my life, will belong to you, Chloe! Only you! Forever!"

His promises still echoed in my ears. He had once ordered a complete media blackout, forbidding anyone from gossiping about my miscarriage, knowing it was a sacred wound. We had a silent pact to never speak of it, but we had prayed together for the child we never met.

And now.

I gazed at Ethan's face and let go of Scarlett. He let out a sigh of relief, his tone softening slightly.

"Chloe, your temper—"

My hand shot out, plunging a letter opener deep into Ethan's chest. I smiled.

"Ethan, they say betrayal earns a thousand cuts. This is the first."

The blade sank into flesh. With a brutal twist, I yanked it free.

Warm blood splattered my face. I watched the scar on his chest, once a symbol of his sacrifice for me, vanish under a hideous ruin of blood and flesh. A mocking smile played on my lips. But Scarlett took the opportunity to shove me hard.

I stumbled back. When I looked up, I met her resentful gaze.

"Who the hell do you think you are, hurting people like that!"

The next second.

I strode toward Scarlett, raised my hand, and slapped her hard across the face. "If you're so capable, stop being a pet canary in a gilded cage."

"Either that, or impress me." I grabbed her hair again and kicked the back of her knee, forcing her to collapse and look up at me. "Make Ethan divorce me and take my place as his wife."

"Or," I bent down, leaning close, and smiled, "wait for the day I decide to end you."

Scarlett's eyes were red from crying, her body trembling like a dying fawn, but a stubborn light shone in them.

"Go on, then. If you have the guts, kill me!"

"If you don't kill me, I will never leave Ethan!" Scarlett's tears refracted the setting sun. "I will be with him for the rest of my life!"

I froze.

I remembered being sixteen. My father was ambushed, suffering a heart attack, and my mother fought to the death to get me to safety. The sunset that day was also stained blood-red. It was Ethan who was waiting for me on the street, who, with the fearless courage of a boy, had carved out a bloody path for my survival.

It was that Ethan, a scar like a medal on his chest and vicious knife wounds striping his back, who had crashed straight into my heart, shouting my name.

"Chloe!"

"Go, now!"

I had been terrified, but I still ran headlong into that sea of blood, and together, we fought our way to today.

Ethan shoved me away. The wound on his chest was still bleeding, the blood sliding down his shirt like a crimson tear falling onto my heart.

"Chloe," Ethan gasped, squeezing one eye shut against the pain, "you've become a monster."

"I'm not divorcing you, but not because I still love you."

Ethan held Scarlett tightly in his arms.

"It's because," he said, "I owe your father a great debt, and you and I are bound by blood. Don't keep testing my patience, or you will regret it."

Scarlett broke down in his arms, sobbing and screaming, "Ethan! I don't want to live here! I don't want to!"

"I'm so scared!" she cried, clutching his collar hysterically. "I don't want to live with this madwoman! She'll kill me, she'll kill me!"