###6
The familiar yet slightly unfamiliar voice made me look up. Reflected in my blurred vision were the iconic black curls and the ever-cynical, striking face of Bert Lester. I clutched the arm of Nate’s sworn enemy and pleaded desperately.
“Bert, help me… kill Nate.”
He raised his brows. “Oh? So that’s why you came to me? The woman once head over heels for her fiancé now wants him dead?”
“Though I’d enjoy seeing that guy gone, if it’s a job, I don’t come cheap, Ruth.”
I blurted out, “I have money!”
Over the years, while Nate climbed the ladder of power, I helped him smooth the way—and in return, earned generous rewards.
Bert smirked. “But I’m not hurting for money. Right now, the most important thing is getting you to a doctor.”
He shoved me gently into the car. I was panicking. “Will you help me or not?”
“Let me think about it,” he said casually.
I expected him to glance at my belly, ask about the child, or demand an explanation for why I wanted to kill the man I once loved.
But he stayed silent the whole drive. Maybe he already knew everything. His network was far deeper than Nate’s.
The three of us—Nate, Bert, and I—grew up together in chaotic Detroit. But somewhere along the way, Nate and Bert became bitter rivals.
Eventually, Bert was taken in by his uncle White, head of the largest mafia in the U.S.
Since then, Nate considered him a mortal threat.
“Young Master, you think you’re so great? One day, I’ll make you bow to me!”
I still remember nineteen-year-old Nate, standing under the blazing sun, teeth clenched as he glared at the fading silhouette of the White family’s luxury car.
He kept that promise.
I had once admired him for it.
But now, those days felt like a distant past life.
After the doctor stitched my reopened wound, I slept deeply.
When I woke up, I found dozens of missed calls and unread messages from Nate.
“Darling, let’s get married next month.”
“I’ve hired the top wedding dress designer to rush the most stunning gown for you.”
“Call me, Ruth. I’m worried. You just lost the baby—it’s normal to be emotional. Cassie says she doesn’t blame you.”
I laughed through tears.
So now I’m supposed to be grateful she doesn’t blame me?
I’d imagined marrying Nate countless times. He always said, “Just wait a little longer.”
So I waited—ten years.
Now, he’s finally willing to marry me.
But it’s too late.
And far too disgusting.
I tossed my phone aside without hesitation.
The nurse came in to change my bandages. “Your husband stayed by your side all day and night. He just left not long ago.”
“What?” I sat up. “Nate was here?”
She shook her head and handed me a folded note from under the pillow.
I opened it.
“I’ve accepted your commission. Contact me again, Sleeping Beauty.”
It wasn’t from Nate.
It was from Bert.
My hand trembled as I crumpled the note.
I would make Nate pay with his life—and I’d never regret it.
I got out of bed and took a cab home to pack my things.
On the way, Lucas called. She said all the documents were ready. If Nate refused to sign the breakup agreement and split the property, we’d sue.
“Do it,” I said.
But at this point, the lawsuit didn’t matter much.
Still, I thought Nate would be thrilled to know I was making it easier for him and his beloved Cassie.
To my surprise, while I was packing, Nate returned—with Cassie beside him, both carrying bags.
“Ruth, what are you doing?!”
His eyes darted to the neatly folded clothes stacked beside me.
There was a flicker of confusion in his tone.
