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.

I didn't respond to her, but my heart sank, heavy and cold.

A skin graft surgery?

And he used my skin?

Right then, I remember the first year of our marriage.

Duncan and I went abroad on a business trip. Our location was accidentally exposed. An enemy faction laid an ambush at the hotel.

The moment I stepped out, someone lunged at me with a knife. Luckily, I reacted fast and dodged in time. Even so, the blade grazed my arm, peeling away a bit of skin.

It was hardly a wound and just a tiny scratch, but it had driven Duncan into a blind rage. That very night, he stormed the enemy stronghold with only three men by his side. The one who had injured him didn't even have time to scream before Duncan sliced off his right hand. Three men faced off against over a hundred, yet Duncan moved in and out like a ghost.

When I saw him again, he was lying in the ICU, bloodless and pale.

I cried until I couldn't breathe.

Then, he'd pulled me into his arms like it was nothing.

"Lauren, don't cry. As long as I'm here, no one will lay a finger on you. I will protect you for the rest of my life."

How ironic. The man who swore to protect me was the one who now cut my skin off with his own hands. I closed my eyes, my lips twitching with a voiceless laugh.

Shaina had lost her patience. She reached out, gently stroking the wound on my back.

The next second, her fingertip dug straight into my torn flesh. She wanted to hear me scream, to watch me writhe in pain. But what she didn't know was that a woman like me, who's danced on the edge of blades for half her life, would never let someone like her step on me.

A cold smile curled on my lips. I grabbed a fistful of Shaina's hair and slammed her head against the operating table.

"You?" I sneered. "You think you're worthy of laying a hand on me? Crushing you would be easier than squashing an ant. You're still alive only because I think you're filthy. I didn't want to stain my hands with trash like you."

I leaned closer, my smile growing colder by the second. "But now, I've changed my mind."

Then, I pinned Shaina down, picked up the surgical scalpel, and pressed the blade to her back. Her shrill screams echoed through the operating room as I sliced off the patch of skin that once belonged to me.

"Since Duncan gave you this without my consent, I don't think it's too much for me to take it back."

The door swung open with a loud crash. The man who had once stood by my side through blood and fire now rushed in like a knight rescuing his beloved princess. I couldn't tell if I felt sorrow or regret; I just stood there, stunned, watching as they fell into each other's arms.

Duncan shoved her behind him, grabbed the scalpel from my hand, and, without hesitation, stabbed it straight through my other palm.

Pain exploded through my body.

"Lauren!" he snapped. "I arranged that surgery to help you, to atone for what I owe you. Why must you keep making things worse?! If you really hate me that much, then kill me already. Stop hurting innocent people!"

He was ruthless enough to cripple my second hand that I could not form words through the pain.

"Lauren," he said darkly, "I didn't hold back because I love you. It's because I owe you. But my patience has limits. If there's a next time, I promise that it won't end with just your hands."

His eyes held a cruelty that was no longer theatrical; there was murder in them. I did not know whether to laugh or to weep.

But in that moment, I understood that the man who once knelt before me at eighteen, swearing to marry me, the man who would've given his life for me at twenty-eight, that man was dead.

Shaina clung to his sleeve, her voice trembling through her sobs. "Duncan, she's crazy. Let's not deal with her anymore. Take me away, please. I don't want anything else. I just want you."

In response, Duncan held her gently, his eyes filled with tenderness. "Alright. Wherever you want to go, I'll go with you."

Those were the exact words he had spoken to me ten years ago.