A cramp seized my lower abdomen.
I bent over, clutching my stomach.
My men rushed to steady me.
“Ms. Summers!”
“I’m fine…”
My voice was weak. “Old problem.”
Since losing that child, the pain on rainy days had never really left me.
Even the best gynecologists couldn’t fix it.
Maybe my heart hurt too; this bout was worse than usual.
I went to the hospital on my own.
And walked straight into Natalie Reed crying and raging in a patient room.
“Why didn’t you kill her? For you, crushing a woman like that is as easy as crushing an ant!
“I want her dead! If you won’t do it, I will!”
She actually grabbed a knife and headed for the door.
Ethan Shaw seized her wrist and yanked her back.
The tip of the blade split his palm.
Natalie collapsed into his arms.
He cupped her face with his bleeding hand.
Tears in her eyes, chin tilted up by his grip, the two of them kissed—fiercely, hungrily.
The knife clattered to the floor. The air held only their breath and heat.
Once, Ethan and I had embraced in blood.
Now Natalie kissed him in blood.
The door opened.
Natalie saw me.
“Sophia Summers!”
She snatched the knife up—
then dropped it with a clang as I fisted a hand in her hair and forced her to her knees.
Ethan caught my wrist.
“Enough. Don’t lower yourself to her level.”
“Mr. Shaw, you’re the one who refuses to divorce.”
I stared at him, voice like a blade.
“Since you insist on calling me your wife, I’ll live up to the title.
“What is your ‘Mrs. Shaw’—some doormat anyone can kick around?”
Smack!
My palm landed hard across Natalie’s face.
“Sophia!”
His shout cracked the room.
He wrenched us apart.
Natalie’s sobbing filled my ears.
I tore my wrist free.
“I gave you your chance.
“If you won’t divorce, don’t blame me for what comes next—”
A stab of pain bit into my waist.
I spun on instinct and drove a kick into Natalie’s jaw.
She slammed into the wall; the knife she’d used to ambush me flew from her hand.
“Ah…”
Natalie clutched her abdomen.
Barely healed, her body started bleeding again.
“An ambush? Looking for death!”
I raised my hand for another slap—
but the strike landed on my own face.
Ethan towered over me, looking down, eyes colder than I had ever seen.
I touched my cheek and found blood at the corner of my mouth.
“Don’t be afraid. It’s okay, I’m here…”
He gathered Natalie into his arms,
letting her tears soak his expensive shirt.
The tenderness and panic in Ethan’s eyes—I’d only seen it once before,
on the day I lost our child.
That sunset had bled like an open wound.
He pressed my hand to his heart, eyes wet,
still forcing a smile as he stroked my face, repeating the words he’d told me a thousand times:
“Don’t be afraid. It’s okay, I’m here…”
But now, when he looked at me, his eyes held only ice.
“If you want a divorce, then divorce.”
I laughed.
I had failed to force this divorce even with my life.
Turns out, all it took was Natalie getting a little hurt.
A violent cramp knifed through me again—
worse than the day I lost the baby.
I doubled over; a shoulder slammed into mine.
Ethan carried Natalie out.
I fell to my knees.
