Muriel's POV

The year I loved him most, my mother forced me to break up with Alaric Booth, so he threw her into the strip.

And the year I hated him most, I crippled his father and made him sign a confession.

That same year, a pregnant girl showed up on our doorstep.

“Heaven has already punished him by making him marry someone he doesn’t love. What more do you want?” she said.

I turned to Alaric. “Is that so?”

In the half minute he stayed silent, I saw everything I needed to know.

I dropped the iron bar to the floor and asked, “Which do you want, an abortion or death?”

Without hesitation, he looked at the bodyguard and ordered, “Make her lose the baby.”

Slapping him across the face, I demanded, “I want you to do it yourself.”

——

Alaric clenched his fists so tight that the veins stood out on his forehead. “Muriel, stop this.”

“Come on. Killing is just a small thing. After all, she’s someone else’s woman and child,” I said.

Janice Bacchus, who had been trembling with fear a moment before, now leaned arrogantly against him. Her skin was flawless and white, nothing like my hands. Mine were callused from knives and gun handles after years of fighting at Alaric’s side. It was clear he had sheltered her and kept her ignorant.

So ignorant that she brazenly provoked me. “Muriel, did you hear that? Alaric would never hurt me.” She smiled confidently. “You’ve been married to him for five years and still haven’t given him an heir. How dare you threaten the one who will carry on his bloodline? We’re trying to give you a way out—”

But then her words turned into a scream.

By the time Alaric came back to himself, Janice was on the ground with darts pierced in her belly and both knees. I leaned back in my chair, took a deep drag of my cigarette, and watched the woman bleeding on the floor.

“Looks like Alaric didn’t tell you I only move upward and hate stepping down,” I said. “I even crippled his father. So what’s that bastard in your womb compared to that?”

The bodyguard checked quickly and reported that Janice had miscarried.

“Is that so?” I said. “Then dig it out for me. I want to see what Mr. Booth’s bastard looks like.”

“Muriel!”

A cold, sharp dagger pressed against my throat, and Alaric’s eyes were red and terrifying. “Don’t let your madness loose on Janice. She’s not a beast like us! She’s already lost the child. Do you really have to be this brutal?”

The last time he had looked at me with that kind of murderous heat was when he found out my mother had forced me to break up with him because she disapproved of his methods. To keep me, he’d send my mother to the strip with that same look, and my mother had gone mad.

And the day I crippled his father, Alaric didn’t feel anger, only exhilaration. “Yes, Muriel. Just like me, crazy and bloody-handed. No one would say we’re mismatched anymore.”

And now he was back to falling for some pure-hearted angel?

My fingertips traced the edge of the knife, and I smiled. “I gave you the chance to do it yourself, and you refused. Since we’re husband and wife, I’ll take over. Look at your little lover now. Not only does she have nowhere to go, she can only lie there like a dog.”

“Oh, it seems like Mr. Booth wants to vent for his beloved. Then go on.”

Then the sound of a bottle shattering rang out.

I kept smiling and met Alaric’s eyes as I used a shard of broken glass to cut the skin at his elbow. The room was soon filled with the smell of blood. The sound of his sharp intake of breath and Janice’s scream sounded strangely sweet to me.

A few of Alaric’s men raised their guns, and the black barrels all aimed at me.

Despite that, I simply shrugged as if I didn’t care and kept moving my hand, inching toward an artery.

Muriel's POV

“Tell me, do you think all that blood you’ve spilled is enough to write an obituary for your bastard?”

Alaric’s dark eyes locked on me, unreadable.

A moment later, the knife clattered to the ground. He let out a laugh before turning and slapping one of his men across the face.

“You dare point a gun at my wife? Put it down!”

He then glanced at the wound on his arm, the gash deep enough to nearly expose bone, and lifted his gaze back to me.

“Have you vented enough? Muriel, we’re husband and wife, so I’ll let this go today. But next time you lose control, remember who you’re targeting.”

At that moment, the butler approached us with a tray. On it lay the embryo Janice had just lost.

I picked up the tray and smashed it against Alaric’s face. “Take your dog and your bastard, and get out.”

As such, he scooped Janice into his arms, his gaze dropping to my neck. Somewhere in the frenzy, I’d been too reckless, and the blade had left a thin red line across my skin.

He reached out to me, but I pulled away. “Some filthy diseases spread through the blood. Don’t contaminate me.”

He ignored my curse and mockery. But, still carrying Janice, he kicked over the cake I had spent a day and night making for our anniversary. The toppled figurines were also crushed beneath his heel as he walked out without looking back.

At the door, he paused just long enough to tell the butler, “Make sure her neck is treated. Don’t let water touch it, or it’ll get infected.”

I stared at the iron rod on the floor. In the end, Alaric hadn’t done it himself. That meant there was no future left for us.

That very night, on our wedding anniversary, Alaric made headlines. He sent out a fleet of helicopters, gathered top doctors from across the country, all for another woman’s injuries.

The giant screen replayed him cradling Janice as if she were something fragile, his eyes full of tenderness.

As the butler cleaned the wreckage of the living room, his voice trembled with anger. “Mr. Booth went too far this time. You built everything with him from the ground up and gave up so much for him. You even spent an entire day and night making that cake, and he just destroyed it all just for another woman.”

The mix of cream, red wine, and blood on the floor looked nauseating.

“It’s fine,” I said flatly. “Things that get dirty are meant to be thrown away anyway.”

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. A deliveryman stood outside, holding a grotesque bouquet made of used condoms. Trying not to gag, he handed me his phone. “The sender requires a video confirmation.”

I took the phone. On the screen, Janice grinned smugly.

“Do you like my gift? How does it feel to spend your anniversary alone? Don’t say I never pitied you. I sent you company. They even carry Alaric’s scent. Don’t be shy, my trash can’s full of them. By the way, thanks to the injuries you gave me, Alaric cares for me even more now. He swore he won’t let our baby die in vain and will make you pay the price.”

She then flipped through intimate photos of her and Alaric, showing them off with wild pride.

“Alaric said I’m his angel. Muriel, be smart and step aside. A mad dog like you only belongs in hell.”

Her words made me laugh. “An angel? That’s too bad. Because a so-called angel who only knows how to spread her legs could never carry the title of Mrs. Booth.”

When Alaric said I’d pay the price, he wasn’t bluffing.

A few days later, I slipped into my favorite dress and painted my face with my most flawless makeup. I was ready to go to the airport to welcome the one person I truly loved.

But before I could leave, the bodyguard called, panic in his voice.

“Ms. Feron, Mr. Booth just stormed in with his men and stole your rosary. He said he’s giving them to the mistress as a gift for leaving the hospital. We tried to stop him but we were beaten.”

Muriel's POV

I found Alaric and his people at our detached villa on the outskirts of the city.

This was the gift he gave me when we married, the place that had been ours, but now it had been turned into their love nest. Everything inside had also been redecorated to suit Janice’s tastes; even the trees in the yard were trimmed into the shape of two people kissing.

When I walked in, they were having a barbecue in the courtyard, feeding each other pieces of meat mouth-to-mouth. Seeing me, Janice laughed and hooked her arm through Alaric’s.

“Oh, Muriel's here,” she said, smiling. “So you finally realized Alaric cares more about me? You couldn’t bear being ignored and came to beg for forgiveness?”

“Or are you here for this?” she added, flaunting the rosary wrapped around her wrist. “I heard you paid millions for this. It must be precious. But Alaric felt sorry for me after my nightmares, so he gave it to me to calm my nerves.”

“He even gave me this villa as compensation,” she bragged.

Alaric pinched her nose like she was a mischievous child. Then he turned to me and flatly said, “Muriel, watch your people. It’s one thing if they start a fight, but nearly injuring Janice? If it happens again, I’ll cut off their hands and feed them to the dogs.”

“As for the villa and the rosary, consider them as your apology to Janice. Don’t lose your mind,” he warned.

I couldn’t help but laugh. Once upon a time, he had pulled out all the stops to make me just like him, wild and ruthless. Every time I lost myself, he was pleased and excited. He even handed me the people who offended me so I could deal with them.

And now he hated it when I lost my mind?

I pulled a folder from my bag and slammed it into his face. “Alaric, open your bloody eyes.”

“That’s not a rosary,” I said. “It’s our dead child.”

When Alaric had been kidnapped by our rivals, I was eight months pregnant. Still, I stormed their base, pregnant and determined. But they tore my child out of me along with my womb and turned the remains into a rosary.

To get back, I faked my death to get close enough and slit that enemy’s throat. However, the rosary had already been sold or given away, and I never knew where they went.

Alaric froze, staring at the files for a long moment before looking at Janice. “Janice, I’ll find you a better rosary. This one—”

“No!” she shrieked. “You heard the seller. That child’s birth date and time are unique. That's why it can calm my mind and help me with pregnancy. There’s nothing better than this! You said I lost the baby and deserved compensation. Then I want this. I don’t want to be tormented by nightmares about that night anymore.”

“The doctor said I was hurt badly, that it might be hard for me to get pregnant again, and only this rosary can help me. Alaric, I really want our proof of love, our child.” She wiped her eyes, sounding wounded.

Successfully, her tears pushed Alaric to her side. He turned to me with a flat, cold look and said, “The child has been dead a long time. Bringing the rosary back won’t change anything. Instead of letting them rot in the ground, why not give them to Janice?”

“Alaric, don’t forget. That was your child, too,” I shot back. “Do you have any idea how much I spent trying to find him and give him a proper burial?”

Just to make me suffer, our enemy had never told me who they sold the rosary to. I had hunted for answers for years.

Alaric pinched the bridge of his nose, irritation in his voice. “Why cling to something dead? If you want another child, wait until Janice has one, and I’ll let her name you as the godmother.”

“Also, I’m the father. I have the right to decide who gets it,” he continued. “Besides, Janice’s miscarriages and nightmares are your doing. If your child’s remains can atone for her suffering, that’s merit in itself.”