When love reaches its limit, betrayal becomes even more grotesque.

I shoved him back. “Don’t you fucking touch me!”

I stepped away, the house still thick with the stench of blood.

For a while, we kept our distance.

Harvey remained hidden under Faye’s careful protection, leaving no trace behind.

But a young man like him was always restless, always impatient. He couldn't stay away forever.

Eventually, he came looking for me.

“You've been trying to find her lately? I’ll tell you right now that she’s with me,” Harvey said, his voice brimming with smug confidence.

He was dressed head-to-toe in custom clothes, every detail sharp, every gesture proud.

Then, the bastard even added, “You think castrating me would fix everything?”

He leaned closer with a triumphant grin plastered on his face. “As long as her love is with me, the more you hurt me, the more she’ll love me. They reattached my parts perfectly—no damage at all. If anything, it makes me perform even better. I should be thanking you for the assist.”

With that, Harvey pulled his shirt open, showing off a flawless neck and the edge of his chest. Countless kiss marks repeated across his skin, declaring how completely Faye had demanded and taken from him.

“Too bad, though. I got your wife pregnant again.” His pride spilled out in every word.

Unruffled, I set my coffee down and drank it slowly, expressionless.

Meanwhile, Harvey flopped onto the custom sofa I had commissioned, propping his chin on his hands.

“I heard that after marriage, you didn’t manage to get her pregnant for three years. Finally, she’s with child.”

He laughed at his own joke, leaning back casually. “Ha! Didn’t keep it! Sometimes, you really can’t blame the woman.”

The coffee cup clinked sharply against the table.

Then Harvey screamed.

The room froze.

Bodyguards stood silent as Harvey doubled over on the floor, blood dripping from his groin.

“Chester! You’re gonna die a horrible death!” he howled.

The bodyguards dragged him toward the door, but he kept shouting, “Chester! If you do this, aren’t you afraid Faye will take revenge?”

I tapped my fingers on the marble table deliberately.

“You need to understand something,” I said, my voice low and controlled. “Just because my wife cares about you doesn’t mean you’ve earned a place in her life.”

...

That night, Faye returned home with dozens of people—an entire floor taken up by her entourage. She would not make such a spectacle unless she had a difficult opponent.

We faced each other across a table that felt more like a battlefield than furniture.

For the first time, she came at me with a blade drawn. We sat at opposite ends of the negotiation table, each backed by dozens of people.

“Twice now.” Her long, knuckled fingers rapped lightly against the marble. “Chester, you should apologize to him.”

But I replied, “That bastard brought it on himself. A fool who barges in has to take responsibility for his recklessness.”

Half of Faye’s face was swallowed by shadow; I couldn’t read her expression.

She folded her hands and studied me.

Still, I continued, my voice steady. “Does the great Faye Ellison really think her husband is so patient that he’d just sit there while another man shows up at his door?”

I flicked my lighter, igniting my cigar, the flame winking in the dim light. “Ms. Ellison, you need to understand this—after all these years of scraping and clawing through the Upper Circle, I bled right there beside you. And now, putting some pretty nobody up against me? Either you’re out of your mind, or he is.”

I slid another copy of the papers across the table, smoke curling behind my words.

“This is your last chance.”

The moon cast a cold light on the marble, but it didn't soften anything. We looked at each other in the dim glow; the moon reflected off my prosthetic limb, cold and shiny.

I spoke plainly, laying it all out. “From the start, you helped me take down my stepmother and storm the Smiths’ house for me. I lost a leg for you and bled for you. Faye, let’s part clean. No debts. No claims. That is the best way for both of us.”

“The best outcome…”

Faye’s soft laugh echoed in the dark.

She picked up the divorce papers.

With a flick of her lighter, she lit her cigarette, and the document browned before burning to ash.

“He will never appear before you again.”

Then, the ashes drifted away on the breeze.

She stood, gathered her dozens of people, and swept out of the estate in a grand procession.

A cramp knotted my calf, and I bent over without meaning to.

Hands were immediately at my side to steady me. “Mr. Chester!”

“I’m fine…” My voice came out weak. “Just an old injury.”

Since I lost my right leg, rainy days have always brought on this pain, and even the best doctors couldn’t alleviate it.

Maybe it was my heart that ached this time; the pain was harder to bear.

And so, I ended up at the hospital for treatment.

It was there that the scene unfolded.

Harvey made a scene in the ward.

“Why don’t you just kill him! Isn’t that bastard as easy to crush as an ant for you? I want him dead! If you won’t do it, I will!”

And he really did scoop up a dagger and stride for the door.

Stopping him, Faye grabbed his wrist and yanked him back with force.

The blade sliced her palm, and she collapsed into his arms.

Her bloodied hand rose to cup his face.

Tears welled in Harvey’s eyes as he bowed his head, and their lips met in a desperate, tangled kiss.

The dagger slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor.

For a moment, the air held only their intimate entanglement.

Once, Faye and I had embraced in blood. Now, she and Harvey kissed in blood.

Right then, the door opened.

Harvey saw me.

“Chester!” he shouted.

He snatched the dagger back up.

A metallic clink followed, but it slipped from his grasp and hit the ground again.

I grabbed him by the hair and forced him to his knees.

But Faye held onto my wrist.

“All right, stop! Don’t make a scene with him, Chester!” Faye warned.

"You’re the one who refused the divorce, Ms. Ellison," I said, my voice edged with irony.

I fixed my gaze on her, eyes gleaming with mockery.

"If you insist on calling me your husband, then I’ll live up to the name.

Do you think your husband is some weak creature you can push around?"

A punch crashed into Harvey’s face.

"Chester!" Faye shouted.

Bodyguards yanked me away from him. Harvey shouted curses at me while I fought to break free from Faye’s grip.

“I gave you a chance,” I told her. “Since you refuse to divorce, don’t be surprised if—”

Pain shot through my side.

Quickly, I spun around and kicked Harvey in the jaw.

He slammed into the wall, and the dagger he’d used to try to ambush me flew out of his hand.

“Ah—” he doubled over, clutching his abdomen.

The wound that had only recently healed began to bleed again.

“A sneak attack? You’re asking for death!” Faye shouted, raising a fist.

She struck me hard across the face.

Her expression was colder than I had ever seen. Her brows were drawn into a sharp, unyielding line.

I touched my cheek and felt the wet trail of blood at the corner of my mouth.

“Don’t be afraid. It’s okay. I’m…” Faye murmured, then paused.

She gathered Harvey into her arms, letting his blood soak into her costly gown.

The pain and panic in her eyes.

I’d only seen them once before, and it was the day I lost my right leg.

Back then, the setting sun was the color of blood.

She had clutched my hand to her chest, tears threatening, yet forcing a smile as she stroked my face and repeated over and over, “Don’t be afraid. It’s okay. I’m here. I’m with you.”

But now she looked at me with nothing but icy indifference.

“If divorce is what you truly want, then fine. You’ll have it.”

I suddenly laughed.

Even after risking my life, I couldn't get her to divorce me, and yet one injury to Harvey was enough to make it happen.

Right there, a cramp clenched my calf, sharper than the day my leg was hacked off. I bent over, but a shoulder brushed against mine. Faye walked past, holding Harvey in her arms.

I collapsed onto the ground, cold sweat soaking the floor. My bodyguards rushed in.

Before I even lost consciousness, someone from Faye’s side sent over a divorce agreement.

So it was true. When a woman decides to be ruthless, she moves fast.

I tossed it to the nearest bodyguard. “Burn it.”

I am a stubborn man.

As a child, when my mother threatened to beat me to death if I didn’t obey, I stiffened my neck and chose death.

As an adult, when I swore to live and die with Faye, I limped into the enemy’s den with a machete to rescue her.

And now, since I’d made it clear the last divorce negotiation was her final opportunity, and since she refused, my marriage would only end in widowhood, not divorce.

...

When I woke up, Harvey had already been discharged safely. He sent over a file.

My bodyguard handed me a handwritten letter.

His script was sharp, each stroke thick with arrogance.

[Did you really think Faye still had feelings for you? Curious why she loves me and not you? Perhaps you don’t even know who I really am? There’s a surprise for you.]

I tore open the folder. My breath caught.