My husband had killed me ninety-nine times.
The most recent time, he pushed me in front of an oncoming truck to save his beloved first love.
Casually, he told someone to throw me in the trunk.
"Celeste is pregnant. She can't stand the smell of blood. Don't let her see too much of it."
"You'd better keep it under control. Don't die in our car."
I didn't say a word. Just curled up in the trunk, waiting to die.
Someone tried to stop him. He shrugged.
"She's died ninety-eight times. Every time she wakes up, she just apologizes."
At that, everyone glanced toward the trunk. Someone placed a hundred-million-dollar bet.
A wager on whether my first words after resurrection would be, once again, "I'm sorry."
But they didn't know. After dying a hundred times at the hands of the man I loved, the blood-vow curse would be broken. My karmic debt cleared. I'd ascend beyond the veil.
From then on, I'd have nothing more to do with earthly love.
——
When I woke again, I was still lying in the trunk, my body twisted at an unnatural angle, blood sticking to the metal beneath me as it slowly cooled. Every breath scraped against my ribs, shallow and uneven, as if even breathing had become something my body resisted. The air inside the trunk was thick and suffocating, carrying the metallic scent of blood and the faint trace of gasoline.
From the front seat came the sound of someone retching, soft at first, then more insistent, like waves rising and falling. I didn't need to look to know who it was.
The car braked suddenly, jolting my already battered body. Pain flared sharply through my limbs, forcing a weak gasp from my throat. A second later, the trunk popped open. Harsh light flooded in, stabbing at my eyes. I blinked against it, vision swimming, until his figure came into focus.
He stood above me, looking down as if I were nothing more than a piece of discarded trash. The signet ring on his hand caught the light, perfectly still.
"If you're still alive, get out," Dominic said coldly, his voice devoid of any warmth. "Celeste is getting sick because of you."
No concern. No hesitation. Just irritation.
I forced my arms to move, palms slipping slightly in the blood as I pushed myself upright. My muscles trembled violently, barely able to support me. Still, I said nothing. I dragged what remained of my strength together and began wiping the trunk clean with the torn fabric of my shirt, smearing the blood away until only faint stains remained.
Celeste had a cleanliness obsession.
I remembered it too clearly. The last time she wore a new pair of shoes, she had refused to let them touch the ground. So Dominic had stripped me naked without a second thought and forced me to lie down, using my body as a path beneath her feet.
Compared to that, this was nothing.
Seeing me comply without resistance, Dominic's expression softened ever so slightly, as if I had finally done something worthy of approval.
"Be good," he said, his tone almost gentle for once. "When Celeste gives birth, I'll…"
His words trailed off before they could form a promise.
From the front seat came another loud gag, more violent this time.
His attention snapped away from me instantly. He turned without hesitation, rushing back to the car, his movements urgent. I watched as he wrapped an arm around Celeste, his voice dropping into a low, soothing murmur, coaxing her as if she were something fragile, something precious.
Then, without even glancing back at me, he barked into his phone, ordering the house steward to bring another car to the compound within ten minutes.
Efficient. Decisive. Concerned.
Just not for me.
The first time I died for him, he had been just as frantic.
A hired diver had pinned him underwater during a job off the coast, holding him down long enough for panic to set in. Without thinking, I had plunged in after him, ignoring the danger, ignoring the way my lungs screamed for air. I had forced the man off him and pushed Dominic toward the surface.
And then I died.
My body had convulsed violently as oxygen left me. My vision had gone dark at the edges, my face turning numb, then cold, then nothing.
Just before everything faded, I heard his voice, hoarse and broken with fear.
"Someone, please save her! I'd give my life!"
At the time, I believed him.
But that was only once.
Then came three times.
Ten times.
Ninety-nine times.
Now, he watched me die without even blinking.
Worse, he used me as something expendable, a prop to please Celeste, to keep her comfortable, to soothe her moods.
