When I was eight, Caelan Thorne set fire to an entire mental hospital just to save me.
When I was twenty-three, his mother spat “bitch” in my face, and he stabbed her to death—then proposed to me before her corpse.
Everyone knew Caelan loved me.
But eight years into our marriage, a pregnant girl swaggered into my office. She tossed a hard drive onto my desk—dozens of gigabytes filled with her and Caelan’s encounters. She tore open her collar, revealing a fresh kiss mark, and sneered.
“He’s been sick of you for years. How dare a barren hen like you occupy the title of Mr. Thorne?”
I stared at the mark on her skin, then drove my dagger into her stomach.
She shrieked but still managed to hit ‘send,’ her voice trembling through the recording.
“Five minutes, sign the divorce papers, and drag your eggless chickens away…
——
Look at the 8:35 mark in the fourth video. Caelan said it himself—he’ll never forgive you if you touch me!”
Her sobbing dragged me back. I clicked.
At 8:35, Caelan lay drenched in sweat, cradling her like she was his entire world. Tenderness softened his brows as he whispered,
“Eira, don’t worry. No one will ever bully you again—not even my wife. I love you.”
The girl laughed through her tears.
“Did you hear that? He loves me. He’s disgusted by you!”
Eight years ago, I had bitten my abusive father, and he threw me into that asylum. That same night, little Caelan rushed in with a torch, shouting,
“Serenya, don’t worry. I won’t let anyone in this world hurt you—not even your father.”
Now the girl’s sneer split my skull. My grip tightened. The blade carved across her face before plunging deep into her abdomen.
Her wail still echoed when Caelan burst through the door. His gaze flicked to the bleeding girl, then to me. His eyes burned red.
“Serenya, was this necessary?!”
He barked at his men, “Get her out—now!” His voice trembled with panic, his worry for her so raw it painted me a monster.
The pain in my temples throbbed. I lit a cigarette, exhaling smoke.
“Did you bring the divorce papers?”
At those words, the girl—half-carried out—snatched his wrist, her eyes brimming with pain.
“Caelan… don’t forget your promise. You said you’d give me a home. Don’t let her drive me away…”
Caelan’s pitying gaze followed her.
I lost the last of my patience. Pulling two sheets from my drawer, I threw them at his feet.
“No need. I prepared them myself. Sign.”
His face shifted as he picked up the papers, my cold words slicing through the air between us.
