The year I loved Michael Carter the most, he broke his leg and was stabbed multiple times just to save me, nearly losing his life.
To avenge him, I shot our enemy and desecrated his grave. For that, I spent five years in prison.
Five years later, when I was released, I thought I’d be greeted by Michael’s long-lost devotion. Instead, what awaited me was his new lover—five months pregnant.
“You’re Michael’s ex-girlfriend, Rachel Evans?”
She sized me up with disdain, pinching her nose as if the air itself offended her.
“A woman with a criminal record doesn’t deserve to stand beside Michael.”
At her arrogance, I slapped her across the face.
“You think you’re even worthy of saying my name?”
“Rachel!”
Before I could continue, Michael’s voice came, low and grim, as he strode forward to help Olivia White up from the sofa.
“Olivia’s pregnancy sickness is severe. She can’t stand certain smells. Rachel, go wash up first.”
“Rachel, Olivia isn’t like us. She’s cleaner than either of us.”
Seeing the cold distance in his eyes, I laughed.
“In that case, let’s break up.”
Michael froze, then ordered someone to take Olivia away before turning to me.
“Olivia was just an accident. Rachel, I told you—alive, you belong to me; dead, you’re my ghost.”
That same line echoed in my ears. He had said it five years ago when he saved me. Hearing it again now, it only struck me as absurd.
“Is that so?”
I stepped closer, locking eyes with him.
“In that case, bring out the woman named Olivia White.”
“Rachel, stop. I told you—she was just an accident.”
Michael frowned and brushed a hand through my messy hair.
“Stop?”
I knocked his hand away, smirking.
“Harris, bring her back.”
At my order, Mr. Harris brought Olivia back into the room.
Without hesitation, I grabbed a knife from the table and drove it straight into Olivia.
Blood sprayed from her abdomen, splattering across my face.
“Rachel Evans, what the hell are you doing?”
Michael lunged forward, pinning me against the wall, his hands crushing my shoulders.
“You said she was an accident, Michael. I helped you take care of the accident. Shouldn’t you be thanking me?”
I stared into his bloodshot eyes, then shoved the blade into his shoulder.
Hearing his muffled groan, I laughed.
“The small one I’ve dealt with. As for the big one—will you do it yourself, or should I do it for you?”
“Michael, I’m in pain. She killed our baby, Michael, kill her!”
Olivia’s cries tore through the air from the pool of blood on the floor.
So this was his so-called “clean” woman. Always screaming about killing—cleaner than us, indeed.
I glanced at Olivia writhing in pain, then shifted my gaze back to Michael.
“Choose one.”
Michael’s brows knitted tight.
“Rachel, you’ve gone too far this time!”
He ripped the knife from his shoulder, warm blood splattering across my face again.
“Rachel, you just got out. You should rest at home.”
Without another look at me, he turned and gently scooped Olivia into his arms, his voice soft and soothing.
“It’s okay, I’m here.”
That voice clenched at my chest, painfully familiar.
