After learning that every tragedy in my life had been born from calculated manipulation and betrayal, every cell in my body felt like it had been doused in acid, burning me to the edge of madness.

"You filthy bastards! Why? Why would you do this to me?!"

I screamed like a man possessed, bracing my hands against the mattress to push myself up, only to topple straight off the bed.

The catheter bag was crushed beneath me and split open. Fluid seeped into my wounds, mixing with blood until the floor was slick with it.

Nanette was terrified.

She didn't even think to turn off her phone. She crouched down in a panic, trying to lift me, trying to clean the wounds.

I grabbed a fistful of her hair. I closed my fingers around her throat. My open palm struck her face over and over, fast as rain.

She kept her head bowed through all of it, expression blank, enduring every blow.

All she murmured was, "I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd wake up at this hour."

She didn't deny a single thing.

She just changed her phone password.

Bang.

The violent slam of a door dragged me out of the memory.

Nanette had shut me outside.

Five years.

On the very day Stephen Walker reappeared, Nanette's composure finally cracked.

Through the door, she snarled at me in a low, harsh voice.

"Duncan, stop this. Just stop."

"I'm a person too. I get tired too."

The wheelchair's brakes had been broken for a long time.

The door struck my knees.

The chair lurched out of control.

It rolled down the slope and slammed straight into the wall of the building across the road.

I was thrown from the chair.

My forehead hit the concrete and split open, blood pouring down my face in a warm sheet.

At least the catheter bag didn't rupture, thanks to all the layers I was wearing. It preserved the last scrap of dignity I had left.

A passing car screeched to a halt, brakes shrieking. The driver rolled down his window and started cursing.

"Trying to scam me, you piece of shit? You want me to call the cops on you?!"

The front door flew open.

Nanette came out with tear tracks still wet on her face, bowing again and again toward the driver's seat.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, my husband didn't mean to, he didn't—"

After the driver peeled off, still swearing, Nanette rushed to my side.

She pulled off her coat and draped it over me, then dug out the roll of gauze she always carried and began wiping the blood from my wound.

I wanted to push her away, but even lifting a finger felt like too much.

All I could manage was refusing to look at her. One last act of defiance.

"Get away from me."

"Don't touch me."

Nanette said nothing.

She just sniffled and kept wiping, over and over.

But the car accident had left me with a severe clotting disorder. Even after she applied the medicine, the bleeding only got worse.

My lips turned white. My eyelids grew heavy.

"No. No, no, no—"

Nanette fumbled for the emergency medication, twisted off the cap.

Empty.

She pulled out another bottle. Also empty.

She ran back inside and tore through the house at a frantic pace, searching every drawer, every shelf. Not half a pill anywhere.

Nanette broke.

She collapsed onto me, clutching my shoulders, and wailed.

"Duncan, I don't have any money left. I can't even afford a single pill."

"I'm so tired. I'm so, so tired."

"If we're all going to suffer like this, let's just die together. Let's just die. Okay?"

She slapped herself, hard, again and again. She raked her nails down her own face. She bit down on her tongue.

Then she grabbed a rock from the ground and swung it at her own head.

At the last second, another car pulled up behind us.

The driver got out and stopped her just in time.

He produced a fresh bottle of the medication, pressed the pills past my lips, and stanched the bleeding from my wound.

Then he went to the trunk and unloaded several crates of fresh vegetables and fruit, setting them by the front door.

The man looked at me and bowed deeply.

"Mr. Henson, this is all arranged by Mr. Walker."

"He asked me to pass along a message. He saved your life today. In return, he'd like to borrow your wife for two hours."

"Save him?"

What a joke.

I scoffed and spat hard on the ground.

"If it weren't for him, would I have ended up like this?"

"You tell him—"

"Enough, Duncan."

Nanette cut in before Stephen could lose his temper, losing hers first.

"Stephen paid his debt to you. Five years in prison settled it."

"Stop being so relentless! You're making a scene over nothing!"

Without a shred of hesitation, she climbed into the passenger seat.

And left me alone on the side of the road in fifteen-below weather.

I watched the car pull away into the distance. Nanette never once looked back.

The bystanders kept their distance, afraid I'd try to shake them down for help.

I lay there for a long time. Until the sedative wore off. Until the cold seeped into my bones and my body went stiff. Only then did I haul myself back into the wheelchair and open the tracking app on my phone.

Five years ago, Nanette had installed a location-sharing app herself, to prove her sincerity.

I gripped the wheels with both hands, white-knuckled, and pushed forward.

When the road sloped upward and the chair wouldn't move, I got down and crawled.

By the time the sky turned dark, I finally arrived.

It was Stephen's company.

The employees had all gone home, but the lights inside were still on.

On the table, an array of gold and diamond jewelry glittered under the lights, almost blinding.

And sitting beside that table were Nanette's parents.

They'd traveled over a thousand miles from their hometown after the fight between Nanette and me.

These were the same two people who'd once fawned over my status as a world-class racing driver, who'd begged me again and again to meet their daughter. Now they'd slapped me across the face, poured cold water on my open wounds.

They called me a useless cripple, a curse, said I'd destroyed everything their family had built over generations, said I'd abused their daughter.

And these same two people—who had once done everything in their power to keep Nanette away from Stephen because he'd grown up in a group home, who'd even threatened to kill themselves over the relationship—

Were now raising their glasses to him, wagging their tails like dogs.

"Stephen, your aunt and uncle always knew you'd be the one to make something of yourself. So much better than that lunatic."

Stephen took the compliment in stride, smoothly voicing the words already on the tip of their tongues.

"I understand completely. You're just looking out for your daughter. What happened in the past—let's just pretend it never happened. Water under the bridge."

"I can't stand watching Nanette suffer at the hands of that maniac. What we need to figure out now is how to get him to voluntarily file for divorce and let her go."

He narrowed his eyes, swirled his wine glass, and took a slow sip.

"Or, how to make him..."

"Kill."

"Himself."

Nanette, who had been silently drinking with her head down, went still.

"That's enough, Stephen."

"It's late. I should head back. Mom, Dad, I'll drop you off at the hotel."

She stood, but Stephen pressed her back down into her seat.

"Nanette, don't be afraid."

"He's not the rich, powerful racing star he used to be. And I'm not the broke kid with nothing to his name anymore."

"Trust me. I'll handle everything. Just like I did five years ago."

Something flickered behind Nanette's eyes. She wavered.

But she still tried to talk him down. "Stephen, what happened five years ago... that was my fault."

"This is my punishment. Besides, he's already miserable enough. There are some things I don't want to take too far."

Stephen let out a short laugh.

He reached over and stroked her hair, his eyes full of tender pity.

"Nanette, all these years, he's had us all fooled."

"I've gone over it again and again, and I finally figured something out. A professional racing driver—wouldn't he inspect his own car over and over before getting on the track?"

"He told you himself, didn't he? Back-to-back championships, the higher the glory, the greater the pressure."

"The way I see it, he knew he wasn't good enough to keep winning. He staged the crash on purpose. All these years of suffering we've been through? It was his plan all along."

"He just wanted to chain you to his side forever. Don't you see that, you fool?"

Stephen gripped Nanette's shoulders with both hands, his gaze deadly serious.

Nanette's lips trembled, her pupils slowly contracting.

As if a veil had been ripped away, she threw herself into his arms and broke down sobbing.

"Stephen, Stephen! All these years, I've missed you so much..."

My skull tightened. The pain was blinding, and my breathing had nearly stopped.

Buried memories kept surging to the surface, one after another.

I remembered now. The day of the show, I had clearly seen that the brake cables were intact.

Someone had tampered with them on purpose.

And that someone was about to try killing me a second time.

My hands shook. I forced myself to take deep, steady breaths, fighting to stay calm.

I pulled out the plastic bag I'd hidden inside my coat and swallowed the black pill inside.

Then I made a phone call.

The other end picked up almost instantly. "Mr. Henson, I've been waiting for your call! I'll arrange everything you need right away. Here's to a successful partnership!"

After hanging up, I grabbed everything within reach and hurled it at the office door, one piece after another.

"Cheating scum! Screwing around in the office!"

"Big-shot CEO, and all you do is steal other men's wives!"

"I told you, I'd take you both down with me..."

Glass shattered with a deafening crash. Everyone inside flinched.

Stephen was the first to recover. He dragged me into the office by force.

Shards of glass sliced into my flesh. Blood ran in thin lines down my skin.

Stephen drove his fist into my face. Again. And again.

"Worthless piece of trash. You did this to us, and you still had the nerve to follow her here!"

"I could beat you to death right now and nobody would ever know. You brought this on yourself!"

I heard the clear, wet snap of bone breaking.

Nanette's parents immediately started cleaning up the blood, excitement flickering across their faces.

Nanette reached a hand toward me. Our eyes met. She pulled it back.

She turned her head away and stopped looking.

It only took a few blows before I went still.

Stephen wiped the blood off his face and let out a cold snort.

"Pathetic. Same as always."

The smirk hadn't finished forming on his lips when police sirens wailed from the street below.

Two officers walked toward the entrance.

"Which of you is Mr. Walker? And Ms. Swanson?"

"We've received a report alleging that you intentionally murdered a man named Duncan Henson."