I was eighteen when Damon Blackwood stormed into my house and stabbed my father eighteen times. As the police led him away, he smiled into the camera. “Why would I regret it? “No beast will ever again hide behind the guise of family to torment her. “From now on, she’s the freest woman in the world, Sera Maxwell!” When he got out of prison, he found me broke, my resume rejected again. He extinguished his cigarette. He plunged himself into the city’s elite circles, clawing his way up until he became Mr. Blackwood. After we married, every single one of his passwords was my birthday. I scrolled through his photo album, seeing pictures of a strange woman. Over eighteen hundred photos, and not a single one of them was me. He seemed to remember then. Without a flicker of emotion, he deleted all eighteen hundred pictures and tossed his phone back to me. “It’s all in the past. Just pretend you didn’t see it.” I pushed the divorce papers across the table. “I told you, sign them.” He threw down his pen. “I told you, there’s no divorce between us. Only widowhood.” … Damon Blackwood didn’t sign. Between us, there was only widowhood, no divorce. We’d said those words when we got married. He didn’t even look at the divorce papers before storming out, slamming the door behind him. Not long after he left, an unknown number popped up on my phone. “You’re Sera Maxwell, right? “You must have seen them too. He’s been collecting my photos since I was still in school. “Damon loves me, not you. If you don’t step aside now, he’ll make you regret it later!” The girl’s voice held an innocence and boldness untouched by the world. Or perhaps, Damon Blackwood had just protected her too well. Before I could reply, she sent me over a dozen photos. The girl had a perfect waist-to-hip ratio, a delicate chain casually draped around her midriff. The large hand resting lightly on her waist sometimes forgot to remove *our* wedding ring. Only when her belly began to swell did the chain disappear. “Sera Maxwell, you couldn’t give Damon a child in three years of marriage, but he let me carry his baby. “Don’t you get it? What’s the point of clinging on? “I’m telling you, if you don’t back off, I’ll move into your house. We’ll see then whose side Damon takes!” When Damon Blackwood returned, he found the SnapChat history and a house full of shattered crystal and porcelain. He merely raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have anything to explain?” My ragged breathing mixed with the scent of his cigar. He let out a soft laugh, sighing as he blew a smoke ring. “She’s just a naive kid, Sera. Why bother stooping to her level?” His tone was so dismissive. As if the bloody battles he fought expanding his empire in those elite circles hadn’t fallen on us, but on that little girl and him. “The little girl certainly is foolish.” A miscarriage report landed on the table. He immediately sat up straight. I let my next words fall light as a feather. “So, I took the liberty of teaching her a lesson.” “Sera Maxwell!” His large hands gripped my shoulders, digging in so hard I thought they’d shatter. My back was pressed tightly against the wall, and I smiled, enjoying the furious red in his eyes. He’d only had red eyes twice in his life. Once was in senior year, when my father dragged me by my hair, half-naked, to the side of the road, threatening to drown me in the river. He stabbed my father eighteen times. The second time was now, because that girl had a miscarriage. He clutched my shoulders, accusing me of being “repugnant.” “How rare, to see Mr. Blackwood so distressed.” My smile held no trace of remorse. “You’re a woman… how could you do something like that to her?!” “You also said, between us, there’s no divorce, only widowhood.” I leaned closer to him. “Mr. Blackwood, if you can’t kill me, then I’ll just have to kill both of you!” Blood dripped onto the floor. Only then did he notice my hand, cut when I was smashing things. He slowly released my shoulders. “Good hit. I didn’t want that child anyway.” He took my hand, gently wiping away the blood. When the iodine was pressed onto the wound, he blew softly, just as he always did. He was used to treating my wounds this way. Because back then, when my father beat me black and blue, he could only find alcohol to disinfect my cuts. Even now, without needing alcohol, he was always careful not to hurt me. A bloody handprint appeared on his face. “Don’t. It’s dirty.” His face tilted slightly to the side. He didn’t argue whether I meant the blood was dirty or if he was. He simply called for Mr. Davies, the butler, and handed him the first-aid kit. The girl’s name was Chloe Thorne. When I tried to dig deeper, I found nothing. I knew Damon Blackwood was protecting her. If I hadn’t moved fast, I might not have even known her name. I confronted Damon Blackwood. “You like her so much you’re even blocking her information from me?” He sighed. “Sera, what’s the point of fixating on her?” The divorce papers landed in front of him again. “Sign them, and I’ll naturally let her go.” The divorce papers lasted less than two seconds in his hands. They were torn into shreds. He tossed them, and confetti of paper scattered across the floor. “I told you, between us, there’s no divorce, only widowhood.” I smiled. The next second, a wine bottle smashed against his head. Red liquid streamed down his face, impossible to tell if it was wine or blood. I grabbed a dagger from the table and lunged. He gripped my wrist tightly, resisting the downward force. “Damon Blackwood.” Less than an inch separated us. “Do you really think I wouldn’t dare?” Both our hands were trembling, but I wouldn’t back down. “Divorce, or one of us dies?” The standoff lasted only a few more seconds. With a soft laugh. He guided my hand towards himself. My hand, still clasped by his, plunged the dagger deep into his shoulder. Blood splattered onto my face. “I told you, I won’t let you die before me.” “Damon Blackwood!” Through my gritted teeth, he released my hand. “Go on, Sera.” I yanked the dagger out. He grunted, and my face was stained with blood. The metallic smell of blood dragged my thoughts back to that rainy night in senior year. I swayed, stumbled, and he caught me with lightning speed. “Don’t be afraid, it’s okay, I’m here.” His fingers gently stroked my cheek. I watched the beads of blood from his forehead drip onto my face. His eyes showed no concern for his own wound. Only worry for me. In the countless nights my father beat me raw, he’d held me just like this. He used his back to shield me from my father’s bottles, chairs, even kitchen knives. Amidst my father’s curses, he’d grin at me. “Don’t be afraid, it’s okay, I’m here.” We had embraced in blood, kissed in downpours. When love reaches its peak, betrayal becomes even more monstrous. I pushed him away. “Don’t touch me.” Stumbling, I left the blood-soaked room. We lived separate, peaceful lives for a while. The girl was still well-protected by him; I couldn’t find a single piece of information about her. But the girl was young, after all. She couldn’t hold back and came to find me herself. “Have you been looking for Damon recently? I’ll just tell you directly, he’s with me.” She was dressed in haute couture, full of smug triumph. “Do you think knocking off my baby solved everything?” She leaned in, her smile brimming with glee. “As long as his love is with me, no matter how many babies you make me lose, he’ll only love me more. “He’s been working even harder recently, actually. I should really thank you for the assist, sis.” Her high-slit top showcased her flawless neck and partially exposed cleavage. Countless hickeys loudly declared— how Damon Blackwood had loved this girl without reservation, deeply and passionately. She clutched her flat stomach, pride radiating from her. “Too bad, I’m pregnant again.” I calmly took a sip of my coffee. She sat directly on my freshly ordered couch, propping her chin in her hands. “I heard you haven’t had any children in three years of marriage, sis. “And you finally got pregnant with one.” She seemed to think of something hilarious. “Ha! And you couldn’t even keep it! “Sometimes, you really can’t blame the man.” The coffee cup met the tabletop with a sharp clink. Accompanied by her scream. My bodyguards silently watched Chloe Thorne on the floor, clutching her belly, blood seeping from below. “Sera Maxwell! May you rot in hell!” Amidst her heartbreaking screams, the bodyguards dragged her out the door. “Sera Maxwell! Aren’t you afraid Damon will get back at you for this?!” My fingers tapped lightly on the marble table. I spoke. “You should know, the position of Mrs. Blackwood isn’t something you get just by having a man’s love.” That night, Damon Blackwood came home. With dozens of men. They filled an entire floor. He only ever went to such lengths when facing a truly formidable opponent. This was the first time he’d been so openly hostile towards me. We sat at opposite ends of the negotiation table, dozens of men standing behind each of us. “Twice now.” His distinct knuckles tapped lightly on the marble tabletop. “Sera, you should apologize to her.” “An idiot who shows up on my doorstep and dares to barge in should take responsibility for her own recklessness.” Half of Damon Blackwood’s face was cloaked in shadow, his expression unreadable. “Does Mr. Blackwood truly think his wife is so docile she’ll do nothing when a mistress shows up?” The flicker of a lighter in the dark illuminated the lady’s cigarette between my lips. “Mr. Blackwood, you should know, in all these years clawing our way through the elite circles, I bled alongside you. “To pit a pampered pet like that against me—are you insane, or is she?” The divorce papers were once again placed before him. I blew out a smoke ring. “This is your last chance.” The moonlight on the marble table couldn’t reflect either of our expressions. We stared at each other in the darkness. “From childhood, you killed my beast of a father for me, you stormed into the lions’ den for me. “I lost a child for you, bled myself dry for you. “Mr. Blackwood, let’s part ways, owing each other nothing. “This is the best outcome for us.” “The best outcome…” Damon Blackwood’s soft laugh echoed in the darkness. He picked up the divorce papers. Using the lighter he used to light his cigar, the divorce papers turned to ash. “From now on, she won’t appear before you.” The ash scattered with the wind. He stood up, leading dozens of men, and left the estate in a grand procession. A sharp pain twisted in my lower abdomen. I hunched over, clutching my stomach. My bodyguards immediately rushed forward to support me. “Ms. Maxwell!” “It’s fine…”
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