My blood turned to ice.
Memories flashed—years ago, when Adam and I were nobodies running a street stall. We'd encountered thugs back then too. Adam had thrown himself in front of me, taking countless blows. Afterward, holding me with bloodshot eyes, he'd sworn an oath.
"I will never let anyone bully you in this lifetime."
The irony was bitter. Now, to save his mistress, he was feeding me to the wolves.
Before I could process the betrayal, Adam shoved me toward the criminals. Lola let out a theatrical sob, burrowing into his chest.
Rough hands grabbed me. Greasy palms roamed my skin.
"Adam!" I screamed, struggling. "Help me!"
He didn't look back. He was already walking away, shielding Lola while leaving me to hell.
Fabric ripped. My clothes were being torn to shreds.
Panic surged, but instinct took over. I clamped my teeth onto one man's forearm. He howled, his grip loosening.
I scrambled up and sprinted into the darkness, screaming for help. My old wounds tore open, blood soaking my skin, but I couldn't stop.
"Get her!"
Footsteps thundered behind me. I pushed faster, lungs burning.
My foot caught on a loose stone. I went down hard.
Before I could scramble up, searing agony exploded between my shoulder blades.
A sharp axe had buried itself in my back.
White-hot pain radiated through me. Something inside shattered—not bone, but hope. My heart finally died.
Sirens wailed in the distance. The attackers scattered.
Lying in my own blood, vision blurring, I fumbled for my phone. With trembling fingers, I uploaded every video file I'd prepared.
If I die, I'm taking you all with me.
Only when the screen flashed "Upload Complete" did I let my eyes close.
Adam walked a few paces before a chill crawled up his spine. He stopped, an inexplicable weight settling in his chest.
Lola tightened her grip on his arm. "Adam? Why are you stopping?"
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Something feels off."
She wrapped her arms around his waist, her voice soft. "Don't worry. I arranged those people. Just a scare tactic to teach your wife a lesson." She looked up at him. "Don't you trust me?"
Adam considered her words. The logic seemed sound. Layla had been out of control lately; perhaps a fright was exactly what she needed.
"You're right," he muttered.
He turned and continued walking.
Neither noticed the tiny red light on the recording pen in Lola's pocket, blinking rhythmically, capturing every word.
That evening, a violent thunderstorm battered the city.
Lightning split the sky. Adam jerked awake, sweat clinging to his forehead.
He looked at the empty space beside him. The anxiety he'd suppressed returned with a vengeance.
His phone buzzed. His assistant.
