Chapter 4

Seven years of surviving life and death together, and in her mouth it was worth nothing.

I shot to my feet and slapped her across the face.

"You don't get to lecture me!"

Her head snapped to the side, blood beading at the corner of her mouth.

She twisted her lips at me in something like a smile.

Then her body tilted, and she fell straight backward.

A heavy thud.

The back of her head cracked against the conference table.

Almost in the same instant, the door swung open.

Nigel, back from his call.

One look at Paige on the floor, and at my hand still hanging in the air.

The air froze solid.

He rushed over and gathered Paige up.

When he looked at me again, the fury in his eyes could have burned me to ash.

"Alma, have you lost your mind!"

"I told you not to touch her! Do you not understand plain words!"

I watched him rage, and I laughed.

"She threw herself at me to get hit. You'd believe that, wouldn't you?"

His chest heaved.

"Do you take me for a fool? Six months ago you already stabbed her once, and now you want to kill two lives at once. Alma, you've disappointed me too much!"

Paige reached up and grabbed his collar, her voice faint.

"Nigel, don't blame her. She just loves you too much..."

"Don't talk!"

Nigel snapped down at her, and even the scolding couldn't hide how much it hurt him.

"This is love? She's trying to drive me into the ground!"

"Alma, seven years, and you can't lower your head even once? You have to fight me over every single thing, turn our life into chaos before you're satisfied?"

I looked at him and only found it absurd.

"When the debt collectors were blocking our door, I was the one who charged them with a bottle in my hand. When the company was about to fold, I was the one who went client to client begging them to stay."

"Now that your life is good, you find me not gentle enough. Why don't you ask yourself, if I didn't have this backbone, where would today's good life come from?"

He stalled for a moment, then the anger surged back up.

"That's a separate matter. What we're talking about now is Paige!"

"She's carrying my child. Can't you just bear with it a little?"

I laughed until tears came.

"There's no such word as 'bear it' in my dictionary."

"This divorce, I'm getting it."

"You wouldn't dare!"

He growled low and locked his hand around my wrist.

"I'll say it one more time. There will be no divorce. Today you're going to apologize to Paige!"

"I won't."

"If anyone's apologizing, it's her apologizing to me. Apologizing for the scar on the back of my hand—"

I didn't finish. He threw my arm off.

I stumbled back several steps, my forehead slamming into the file cabinet.

Pain exploded.

Warm blood ran down my neck.

My vision blacked out, and I nearly dropped to the floor.

My lower belly started to ache, faint and deep.

He saw the blood on my face and panicked for an instant.

He started toward me.

Then Paige cried out in pain behind him.

"Nigel... my stomach hurts so much..."

He pulled his hand back at once, and his eyes went cold again.

"You brought this on yourself."

"Sit here and think about what you've done. Whenever you come to your senses, whenever you apologize to Paige, I'll come home."

With that, he scooped Paige up, turned, and walked out.

His footsteps faded away.

The huge conference room, and only me left in it.

The blood was still running, the dragging pain in my belly coming in waves, each one stronger than the last.

But I, Alma Pruitt, have never once in my life been the type to take it lying down.

He should have understood that seven years ago.

I lifted a hand and wiped the blood away, took a deep breath, and forced the pain down.

Opened the door and walked straight for the elevator.

Down in the underground parking garage, I spotted Nigel's Maybach from a distance.

He was easing Paige carefully into the passenger seat, bending down to buckle her seatbelt.

I turned and walked to my own car.

Pulled the door open, got in, started the engine.

My chest felt like something had been ripped open in it, cold wind howling straight through the hole.

If nobody wanted to live decently anymore.

Then nobody was going to live well.

The second the dashboard lit up, I floored the gas.

The car shot out like an arrow.

The Maybach had just pulled out of its spot.

I wrenched the wheel, aiming my front end at his rear.

"BANG—!"

A deafening crash.

The impact rocked the whole car.

Paige screamed, her forehead striking the center console.

I gripped the wheel, a cold smile pulling at my mouth.

The next second the Maybach door was kicked open.

Nigel came striding over and slammed a fist against my window.

"Get out here!"

I unbuckled and pushed my door open.

"What? Aching for her already?"

"The way you shield her makes me sick."

"You're insane!"

He seized my hair and shoved my face against the cracked window.

"She's still pregnant. Are you trying to kill someone!"

The glass shattered on contact.

Sharp shards sprayed across my face.

The skin on my cheeks split open in several places, blood blurring my vision at once.

I didn't cry out. I only laughed harder.

"She's carrying your seed. Mine isn't?"

Nigel went rigid.

The hand in my hair loosened.

"What did you say?"

I didn't answer.

From over there came Paige's sobbing.

"Nigel... I'm bleeding... my stomach hurts so much... will the baby be okay..."

Nigel didn't spare me another glance. He turned and ran back.

Yanked her door open, saw the blood between her legs.

The Maybach tore out of the garage like something possessed, straight for the hospital.

I leaned against the cold body of my car and slowly slid down to the ground.

Blood ran down the inside of my legs, spreading in a wide stain beneath me.

A tearing pain came from my lower belly.

Shaking, I dug out my phone.

Dialed 911, gave the address.

Then I pulled up my lawyer's number and called.

"File every appeal. Submit all the materials."

"I want them ruined. Every bit of them disgraced."

The voice on the other end answered at once.

"Understood. I'll set it up right away."

I hung up and threw the phone aside.

The sound of the ambulance came closer, from far to near.

The blood on my face had dried, but the wounds still ached down to the bone.

Seven years ago, I waited outside the ICU doors, praying for him to live.

Seven years later, I sat in a parking garage, praying for him to fall into hell.

How ironic.

The siren cut off. Footsteps came running this way.

I slowly closed my eyes, and lost consciousness completely.