My husband's ex-girlfriend, Margaret Cowell, lost her mind and showed up outside our house with a gun. She wanted to kill me.
But everything went wrong.
The bullets missed me. Instead, she shot my older brother five times. He died before the ambulance arrived.
I told my husband everything. I told Alaric Hamilton, the man I loved more than anyone, the feared Mafia Don of Hexagon Prime and the powerful president of Hamilton Groups. I thought he'd protect me. I thought he'd stand beside me.
God, how stupid was I?
On the day of the trial, I walked into that courtroom believing my husband would save me.
Instead, he destroyed me.
My lawyer was presenting evidence and tearing apart every accusation against me. For a moment, I actually thought I might be okay.
Then Alaric stood up.
The entire courtroom went silent.
Dressed in a black suit, broad-shouldered and imposing, he looked exactly like the kind of man who could control an entire city with a single phone call.
He opened a folder and spoke in that deep, calm voice of his. "There's something all of you don't know."
His eyes never met mine.
"I'm Olivia's husband."
The room instantly erupted with whispers.
Then he continued. "I know things about her that nobody else does. Olivia's older brother abused her when she was younger and continued threatening her after she became an adult."
He lifted several photographs.
"These photos prove she had a motive. She had every reason to want him dead."
My whole body froze.
What was he saying?! Why was he doing this?
My brother never hurt me. He never touched me. He was innocent!
I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell everyone they were lies, but no sound came out. The courtroom blurred before my eyes. People pointed at me, whispered about me, judged me. Even my own lawyer turned to look at me in shock.
And the worst part was that the deepest wound I'd ever carried inside my heart was being ripped open by the man I loved.
Alaric never looked away. Never hesitated. Never showed mercy.
For the next fifteen minutes, he tore apart every defense my lawyer tried to make. Every piece of evidence. Every argument. Every hope. One by one, his lawyer crushed them all.
At one point, our eyes finally met.
"A-alaric..." My voice cracked. "P-please tell me this isn't real. Please tell me you're not doing this."
His jaw tightened. For a second, I thought I saw regret but it vanished.
"Olivia," he said quietly, "I'm doing my damn job."
"A damn job?" I laughed through my tears. "I'm your wife!"
His expression darkened. "Don't make this harder than it already is."
"Harder?" My chest felt like it was being ripped apart. "You're burying me alive."
His fingers clenched around the file.
"Do you think I wanted this?" he snapped. "You think I enjoy standing here? The evidence is what it is, Olivia."
"No," I whispered. "The evidence is whatever the hell you decided it should be."
The silence that followed felt endless.
Then he looked away from me.
Just like that, as if I didn't matter anymore. As if I was already gone.
When the judge finally announced the verdict, I barely heard the words. My ears were ringing. My hands were numb. Everything felt distant.
Then the sentence came down.
eight years in prison.
And the man who sent me there was my husband.
...
"Prisoner 8034."
The guard's voice pulled me back to reality.
"You're free now. Once you get out there, be a good person."
A bitter smile tugged at my lips.
A good person?
I hadn't even been a criminal.
The heavy iron gates slowly opened, and sunlight hit my face for the first time in years. A black sedan was parked across the road. I recognized it immediately.
It belonged to Alaric.
For a moment, my heart betrayed me.
Was he really here? Had he finally come?
But when the door opened, it wasn't Alaric.
It was his right hand, Bob Evans.
Disappointment settled heavily inside my chest. Of course. Why would he come himself?
Bob hurried toward me. "Boss Alaric had something important to handle, so he asked me to pick you up."
I didn't answer. I was too tired. Too empty.
I simply walked toward the car.
"Wait, Miss Olivia."
I stopped.
Bob quickly grabbed a paper cup from the passenger seat. Before I could react, he tossed the contents toward me.
A cup of salt.
Some of the grains hit my face, and some stung my eyes. The sharp burn made me flinch and the moment I realized what it was, I almost laughed.
He looked embarrassed. "Boss Alaric said salt can get rid of bad luck. He wanted me to do this before you got in the car."
Something inside me shattered.
"Bad luck?" I asked quietly. "He thinks I'm bad luck?"
He immediately looked uncomfortable. "Miss Olivia, Boss didn't mean it like that..."
I let out a hollow laugh and looked toward the empty seat where Alaric should've been.
"Really? Has he forgotten who personally sent me to prison?”
I didn't say another word.
The assistant didn't answer either. He simply gripped the steering wheel and kept driving as silence settled over the car. Slowly, I closed my eyes, and the memories came rushing back.
Back to that courtroom.
Back to the moment my life was destroyed.
My voice had been shaking so badly that day when I looked at Alaric and asked the only question that mattered.
...
"Why?"
Why did you do this to me? Why did you choose her? Why wasn't I enough?
For a moment, something flickered across his face. It looked like guilt, pain, maybe even regret, but it disappeared almost as quickly as it came.
"Marga was assaulted at a bar after our breakup," he said quietly. "That incident made her mental condition worse."
I stared at him, unable to understand what any of that had to do with me.
His jaw tightened. "A long time ago, I promised her something. I told her I'd grant her six wishes as compensation."
The explanation sounded ridiculous, almost insane, yet he continued anyway.
"When she got arrested, she told me she didn't want to go to prison," he said, lowering his voice. "And I couldn't refuse her."
A chill spread through my body.
Alaric finally looked at me, "Olivia... I'm sorry."
Sorry?
The word echoed through my mind.
Before I could respond, he continued, "Listen to me. No matter how many years this takes, I'll wait for you. I'll be here when you get out. I swear it. You're my wife. That won't change."
I laughed.
The sound startled even me. I laughed until my stomach hurt, until tears streamed down my face and the bitterness in my mouth became unbearable, like poison slowly tearing me apart from the inside.
Seven years.
I'd loved Alaric Hamilton for seven damn years.
Back when Margaret left him, he practically lived inside bars, spent night after night drinking himself numb.
And every night, I was there.
I made sure he got home safely. I made sure nobody took advantage of him. When he buried himself in work and forgot to eat, I brought meals to his office. I learned every preference he had, every habit, every little detail that made him who he was.
I waited quietly.
Patiently.
I loved him when he barely noticed I existed.
Then one day, he looked at me and said the words I'd spent years dreaming about.
"Olivia, marry me."
I thought my waiting had finally been rewarded.
After our wedding, he treated me well. If I glanced at something for more than a few seconds, he'd buy it. If I casually mentioned wanting something, it would appear the next day. He remembered every dish I liked, every holiday, every anniversary.
He made me believe I was loved.
But all it took was one sentence from Margaret.
I don't want to go to prison.
Suddenly, none of it mattered and without hesitation, he chose her.
To save her, he threw me away.
Alaric leaned forward, "Olivia, I'll help defend you."
I looked at him without blinking.
"We'll prove you didn't commit intentional murder," he continued. "If you plead guilty and cooperate, your sentence can be reduced." His voice softened further. "Trust me."
Trust him?
The man who had just buried me alive?
"My wife will always be you, Olivia."
Those were the last words he said to me that day.
...
"Olivia. We've arrived."
Bob's voice pulled me back to reality.
