In the early days of our love, my husband, Duncan Moretti, sacrificed himself for me, taking a bullet directly to the head.

He survived, but his mind regressed to that of a three-year-old child.

For his sake, I didn't hesitate to abort the child I was carrying and personally test experimental drugs.

When the treatment failed, I crawled, prostrating with every step, across the entirety of Mount Ashland just to pray for his recovery.

Everyone said what we had was true, unwavering love. But that kind of deep, intense love was shattered in an instant by a single pregnancy test report.

Shaina Preston, the girl whom Duncan had secretly cared for over the past three years, came knocking on our door.

Her eyes gleamed with open provocation as she said, "You didn't really think Duncan became a fool just to save you, did you? He was just tired of the constant bloodshed and wanted a peaceful life with me."

She kept going, cold and smug. "I heard you damaged your uterus testing those drugs for Duncan, and can never have children again? That's okay. I'll give birth in your place."

Then, sharper, she added, "So why don't you hurry up and leave? You're not fit to be his wife."

She was pretty, admittedly. Her eyes carried a naive but fearless kind of courage.

There wasn't much point in arguing. I had Shaina tied up and recorded the footage of her screaming, sending it straight to Duncan.

When Duncan burst through the door, his eyes bloodshot with rage, I had just finished carving the last character into her skin.

I smiled and pressed the cold tip of the blade against her neck. "If you don't want this to end with both of us dead, you'd better sign."

——

Duncan did not come alone. He was flanked by a group of people I did not recognize, yet I knew their presence all too well. Their aura was lethal, and it set my nerves on edge.

The killing intent was unmistakable.

It was clear that tonight, Duncan was furious.

"Lauren, let Shaina go. She's innocent," he said.

How touching!

He couldn't even be bothered to keep up the act for the sake of a little girl.

I looked up at the face I had loved for so long. It felt both familiar and foreign now.

Tears spilled from my eyes as I laughed. "So I'm the one who deserves all this, is that it?"

Duncan had faked being mentally impaired for three years.

I'd devoted those same three years entirely to him. For more than a thousand nights, I didn't sleep soundly once.

In my desperation to cure him, I personally tested over a hundred different drugs.

When I was six months pregnant, I learned that a medical lab had developed a new drug.

The effects were unstable, and the side effects could include, but were not limited to, a permanent vegetative state. That same night, with trembling hands, I scheduled an abortion. I could have another child someday, but I couldn't imagine living without him.

After the procedure, I held the already-formed fetus in my arms and cried until I fainted.

When I woke up, I stepped into that lab without hesitation.

The drug trial nearly cost me my life. The doctors told me I would never have the chance to become a mother again. I have never regretted it.

And yet reality slapped me in the face, mercilessly.

The man I had poured everything into saving was never sick to begin with. He only pretended to be brain-damaged so he could escape the chaos and spend his days in peace with another woman.

And now, beneath the soft, ambient lighting, the husband I had sacrificed everything for became a man I barely recognized.

His face was twisted with barely restrained fury as he said coldly, "I can explain, but what right did you have to hurt her?"

Watching him play the righteous man for another woman, I felt anger flare inside me.

I lifted my hand and slammed the divorce papers into his face.

"What right? The right I earned with every damn thing I've sacrificed for you!"

I stood up, my smile sharp and bitter.

Lifting the hem of my long gown, I revealed the brutal, twisted scars on my knees.

They were the marks left from kneeling across the entire span of Mount Ashland.

In despair, people cling to gods and spirits.

Step after step, bow after bow, it hurt more than anything.

The skin on my knees was ground down to raw, bloody flesh. If left untreated, the flesh would rot, scab over, and then tear open again.

And still, with those legs, I crawled the entire way.

Even now, just thinking about that pain makes my whole body tremble.

But even all that pain could not touch the hollow ache I was feeling now.

When he saw me cry, Duncan froze.

The fury in his eyes faded, replaced by sorrow so thick it seemed to swallow him. He collapsed to his knees before me, guilt etched on his face, and his voice trembled.

Yet the words he forced out felt like ice needles, pricking every soft place inside me.

"Lauren… please. Let her go. I'm begging you," he pleaded, "She's carrying my child. I have to protect her."

How ridiculous.

He could stand there and watch me terminate a six-month pregnancy without batting an eye, but now he was pleading to save another woman.

In all the years I had known him, I had never once seen Duncan beg anyone. He never shed a tear, not once. Even when the bullet had struck him between the eyes and he hovered on the edge of death, a faint smile had played in his mouth.

And yet now, for that woman, he knelt before me, weeping and begging for her life.

What right did she have? Why should I spare the woman who had taken everything from me?

I snapped.

My hand jerked up, and I plunged the blade into her shoulder. The steel went in, but she made no sound.

Instead, Shaina pulled herself free and threw herself into Duncan's arms.

"With you here, Duncan, I'm not afraid of anything," she sobbed. "Don't beg her for me, please! As long as I can be with you, I'd die without regret!"

Watching them cling to each other and weep, I knew then that Duncan and I were finished.

I rubbed my forehead and forced down the exhaustion clawing at me from the inside out.

Then I bent, picked up the divorce papers scattered across the floor, and handed them back to him.

"Duncan," I said, my voice cold as ice, "you're utterly repulsive!"

I glanced at the curve of the girl's belly and let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Go ahead and sign. Any later and that child of yours will be born before we're done."

My assistant, Finn Erickson, who had followed me for years, rushed forward, wanting to speak.

I raised a hand to stop him.

All these years, I had convinced myself that Duncan's condition was punishment, a retribution for my own sins. I had dulled every edge in me in the name of peace. He had grown used to my lowered eyes and silence; maybe he had even forgotten who I used to be.

I looked into his bloodshot eyes and gave a small, gentle smile. "I'll step aside. And I wish you two a long, happy life together."

Whether they would live long enough to reach that future was another matter entirely.

What I did not expect was that Duncan would not sign. Instead, he tore the papers into pieces.

"I won't divorce you," he said. "What I owe you… I'll pay it back slowly."

He moved to shield Shaina behind him, his gaze wary and guarded.

"But right now, I have to protect Shaina," Duncan added. "I won't give you another chance to hurt her."

From our school uniforms to wedding gowns, we navigated a decade together, weathering every storm.

Now, however, I had transformed into the monster he feared. The very thing he wanted to keep out of his life.

His guardedness cut me like a blade and shredded what little dignity I had left.

I reached beneath the couch and drew the 9 mm pistol I had hidden there. I aimed it straight at the center of his brow.

My fingertip brushed the ugly scar on my own belly, and I laughed until it hurt to breathe.

"You want to repay me? With what?" I asked. "You don't seriously think I'd keep someone as dirty as you by my side… do you?"

The men behind him reacted, drawing their guns in unison.

In one motion, every barrel was aimed at me.

In that tense, loaded moment, Shaina found a sliver of courage.

She stumbled forward from behind him and, fueled by bravado or desperation, grabbed my gun and pressed the barrel to her own forehead.

"If you're mad, Lauren… then just shoot me!" she shouted. "Don't take it out on Duncan. He's just trying to protect me because he loves me. What's so wrong with that?"

Shaina stood there, reckless and fearless, seemingly unaware of how close she was to danger. Yet, I had to admit there was a kind of bravery in her that I respected. She reminded me of who I used to be.

I laughed. "Want to die, is that it? I'll grant your wish."

The click of the gun chambering made her tremble. Then, in the next heartbeat, a blade sliced through the air and plunged into my arm.

I had never expected Duncan to strike me on her behalf.

Pain seared so hot I almost dropped the gun.

I clenched my teeth and refused to let go. Duncan sighed, stepped forward, and locked his hands on my wrist.

With a sound like breaking wood, he snapped my wrist.

"Lauren," he said, voice low and steady, "I told you, I will not give you another chance to hurt her. Be good. After the baby is born, I will come back and make this right."

The gun hit the floor with a high, sharp ring.

I pressed my hand to the bleeding wound and let out a hollow, broken laugh. "Duncan, there's no need. I already said I'll step aside. Just sign the papers. Let us both go."

He took a step back and shook his head.

His gaze was steady, but there was a sadness in it I could not read. Before either of us could say more, a loud sound came from behind us.

Shaina fell to her knees, clutching her belly and facing away. Only then did Duncan notice the bright red across her back. His hands shook as he lifted her shirt.

Her back was a raw, mangled map of flesh. Across it, carved deep and bleeding, were two words: 'Cheap slut.'

I had carved them myself, just before he burst in.

Duncan stared at me in disbelief. His voice went cold. "Lauren, you are insane. How dare you do that to her?"

I laughed and replied, "And why do you suppose your mistress could just stroll into my house, insult me to my face, and walk away untouched? You know me, Duncan. Two letters, that was me going easy, for your sake."

Veins stood out on his forehead. I could see he had reached his limit.

He growled, "Lauren, kneel. Apologize to Shaina, and I will pretend none of this ever happened."

Pretend? Why should I apologize?

I was the one who had been betrayed. I was the one who had been hurt.

Seething with anger, I laughed again, bent to pick up the fallen knife, and without hesitation lunged toward Shaina's belly.

In a flash, Duncan snatched a gun from one of the bodyguards and fired. The sound filled the room. I did not feel the tearing pain of a bullet. Looking down, I realized why. A tiny tranquilizer dart had lodged in my chest.

My vision blurred. A bitter smile touched my lips. So in the end, Duncan could not bring himself to kill me. If I had been in his place, I would not have been so merciful. I would have aimed straight for the heart.

When I regained consciousness, I found myself lying on an operating table. Bright surgical lights blinded me, making the room appear to swim around me. I attempted to move, but pain shot through my back as if the skin had been stripped away.

I looked up and met Shaina's triumphant eyes.

"Does it hurt, Lauren?" she said, the sweetness in her tone a lie. "Good. It should hurt."

Shaina then pulled down her gown and showed the bandages on her back.

"Duncan said you owed me," she went on. "So he had the doctors perform a skin graft without your permission."

She smiled, insolent. "Oh, and he told them not to give you any painkillers. He said you should feel what I felt."

She tilted her head, as if the thought were casual.

"Even the skin on my back? He cut it from your body. Sorry, his knife work is poor. Looks like your wound got worse than we thought."

Her arrogance stung.

That sort of confidence only comes from one thing: Duncan.

He was the one who had given her the power to stand there and mock me.