Lovell's POV

Horace’s enemies were killed on the spot that night, and he barely escaped with his life. The bullet that nearly ended mine was just half an inch from my heart.

When I finally woke up in the hospital, Horace was slumped by my bedside, crying his eyes red. His voice shook as he swore, “From this day on, my life belongs to you, Lovell. For as long as I live, I will never let you down.”

To seal his promise, he had the bullet taken from my chest made into a necklace. Holding my hand tightly, he repeatedly kissed it, like it was sacred.

“From this moment forward, I’ll never forget who this life belongs to. This necklace will serve as my good luck charm. As long as I’m alive, I’ll never take it off,” he added.

Maybe it was the sincerity in his red, tear-filled eyes, or maybe it was the way he kissed that necklace so tenderly.

All I knew was that day, my heart melted completely.

But now?

That very same necklace, the one Horace swore he’d never part with unless he died, was hanging quietly around a child’s neck.

Horace opened his mouth a few times, as if searching for the right words, but in the end, he said nothing.

And I saw it, just for a second—the look of smug satisfaction in Jaylee’s eyes.

“Oh, the necklace?” she said, almost casually. “I went into early labor. The doctors said Zach might not make it. Horace was scared, so he gave the necklace to my kid for protection. He’s worn it ever since the day he was born.”

Proudly, she continued, “And honestly, it’s worked! Ever since then—”

“That’s enough! Shut up!” Horace snapped, cutting her off coldly.

He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of the room. The child, startled by the sudden yelling, burst into loud, frightened sobs.

But I didn’t have the strength to care anymore.

All I could hear was Jaylee’s voice, echoing over and over in my head.

Horace didn’t come back.

I don’t know how much time passed, but at some point I heard muffled sounds, low and obscene, creeping through the quiet halls.

I pushed back the covers, climbed out of bed, and followed the sounds.

They were coming from Jaylee’s room.

A man’s voice, rough with desire but trying to stay in control, said, “Don’t. Lovell’s still home. What if she hears?”

And then a woman’s voice, breathy and dripping with seduction, replied, “She won’t. I locked the door. She won’t hear a thing. Come on, Horace. Don’t you miss me? It’s been so long.”

The rest played out just as you’d expect.

And right as things reached their peak, Jaylee turned her head and met my gaze from where she lay beneath Horace.

Her eyes sparkled with triumph.

That was when it hit me.

She wanted me to see this. She left the door open on purpose. She wanted me to find out and see the truth between them with my own eyes.

Even so, I didn’t say a word.

I simply lowered my gaze and gently closed the door for them.

The next morning, I came downstairs early. At the dining table sat Zach, quietly eating from his little bowl, spooning cioppino into his mouth.

When he saw me, his face lit up with a bright smile and cheerfully greeted, “Good morning, Aunt Lovell! Want some cioppino? It’s so yummy—”

But before he could finish the sentence, his face turned red and his eyes widened. His little hands clutched his chest, and then he toppled from the chair and hit the floor hard.

I froze.

For a second, I couldn’t even move. But then instinct took over, and I rushed forward to help him.

Whatever was going on between the adults, this child was innocent. I couldn’t just stand by and watch him suffer.

But before I could even reach him, Jaylee’s piercing scream shattered the air.

Lovell's POV

“Lovell! What do you think you’re doing?!”

Jaylee rushed over, yanking me aside as she knelt down to check on Zach. She called his name over and over, her voice shaking with panic.

When he didn’t respond, she stood up, frantically inspecting the cioppino he’d just eaten. Then she turned to me, her eyes red with fury, and roared, “Miss Porter! If you don’t want us here, just say it, we’ll leave! How could you do this to a child? He’s only three! You could’ve killed him!”

While I was still confused, she went on with her accusation. “He’s been allergic to seafood since he was born! I never let him touch the stuff! How cruel do you have to be to feed him cioppino?!”

I stood there, stunned, trying to process the wave of accusations crashing down on me. I could only manage to deny it weakly.

“I didn’t… I didn’t give it to him…”

But Jaylee didn’t give me a chance to explain. She cut me off with another sharp accusation.

“You didn’t? What, are you saying, a three-year-old ordered it himself? Do you really think a toddler knows how to order food?!”

Without looking at me, Horace stormed forward, scooped the convulsing child into his arms, and turned toward the door.

“Enough. We’re taking him to the hospital.”

He didn’t need to say it. I could feel it in the way he moved, the way his back was turned to me.

He blamed me.

Five years together, and I could read him without a word.

As he passed me, I reached out and grabbed his wrist, forcing myself to speak.

“Horace, it wasn’t me.”

He paused, but with tight brows, he said, “Let go. I need to get him to the hospital.”

Before I could say anything else, Jaylee shoved me hard.

Caught off guard, I fell back and landed hard against the edge of the coffee table. Pain exploded through my lower back, making me cry out.

But Horace, who used to panic at the slightest wrinkle in my brow, didn’t even flinch. He didn’t turn around or stop.

His entire focus was on the child in his arms.

I watched their figures disappear through the doorway as my phone buzzed on the floor beside me.

It was a text from Grandpa.

[The car’s almost there. Pack up and come out.]

I wiped my tears with the back of my hand, gritted my teeth through the pain, and dragged myself up.

I didn’t take much, just my ID and my bank card.

Then I walked out the door without looking back.

Once I got into the car Grandpa sent, I took out my phone and typed a single message to Horace.

[Let’s break up.]