The breathing was still there at the door.
Gillian was startled and afraid, yet she couldn't smother the thrill rising in her.
She simply didn't believe Nadia would keep covering for Brent this time.
Her voice carried nothing but certainty.
"Do you want to divorce Brent? I can help you."
I let out a cold laugh.
"How exactly would you help me?"
"I can draft the divorce agreement for you. Don't worry, I graduated from Harvard Law School, a top-tier university. I guarantee I have professional ethics."
Maybe the pain had pushed me past numbness.
In that moment, my mind cleared a little.
I had enough strength to fire back at once.
"Professional ethics. And you're the mistress."
The remark didn't sting her in the slightest. Gillian didn't care.
"Originally, I only wanted to find a rich man who wasn't married. But your husband is just too handsome, too rich, and because of that, all my rules went out the window. And just now, in bed, he really was incredible. It only made me more certain. I want him."
Gillian studied the woman in front of her, savoring the instant my expression froze and my breath caught.
Then she raised the stakes.
"Divorce him. The way things are now, it's nothing but pain for you. You've lost your baby. Do you really think you can still spend the rest of your life with him?"
The mention of the baby.
Fury took me.
I hurled the violin in my hands at her.
A loud "crack—"
Gillian spoke without a flicker of feeling.
"Such a shame. A violin this fine, shattered, just like the two of you."
This violin was a gift from Brent.
At our wedding, holding this very violin, I'd been made a fool of, paraded like a clown.
Shattered, then. So be it.
I felt no attachment to it.
"Go and draft the divorce agreement."
Once the words were out, I closed my eyes to rest, waiting for the ambulance to come.
I had to admit it.
Gillian still didn't understand Brent.
If she'd known that, at his core, Brent was an utterly twisted, vindictive man who never let a grudge go unpaid,
she wouldn't have come prancing in front of me.
And she certainly wouldn't have been foolish enough to rush so eagerly to draft my divorce agreement.
Gillian drew it up right there in front of me, the computer's mechanical voice reading the clauses aloud.
I signed my name.
Gillian couldn't hide her delight. "Perfect. I'll have Brent sign it too."
She carried the agreement to the guest room.
She called softly to Brent.
"Mr. Stephens, the new project is moving forward. We need your signature."
Roused from sleep, Brent was thoroughly irritated.
But the moment he remembered this project was a music sponsorship, a tens-of-millions Western music performance,
with the violinist's chair held open all along for Nadia,
he'd been planning it for two months.
All to give Nadia a surprise.
He started reading.
After a quick glance over one page to make sure there was nothing wrong, he signed the remaining two pages as well.
He only lifted the lower-right corner where the signature went.
He never noticed.
This was a divorce agreement.
"Blood! Why is there so much blood?!"
The housekeeper was back.
She called out to me, "Ma'am, are you all right? Where are you? Did you fall? Is it serious?"
Brent snapped awake in an instant.
The sedative hadn't fully worn off.
His head was heavy and clouded.
He forced himself up and staggered.
Out of the guest room, the moment he saw the red flooding the floor, Brent's breath stopped.
