Paisley's POV

When I was eighteen, Geoffrey Dittman broke into my house and stabbed my father eighteen times.

As the police dragged him away, he turned to the cameras with a smile.

“Why should I regret it? From now on, no monster hiding behind the mask of family will ever hurt her again. From today, Paisley is finally free.”

Years later, when he walked out of prison, he found me broke and my job applications rejected. He crushed out his cigarette, threw himself into the business world, and came out the other side as Mr. Dittman.

After we married, every one of his passwords was set to my birthday.

But then I found his photo album with over eighteen hundred pictures of another woman and not a single one of me.

It was as if he only then realized what he had done. With a blank face, he deleted them all, tossed his phone aside, and said, “It’s over. Pretend you never saw it.”

But then, I slid the divorce papers across the table. “I told you, sign them.”

Still, he tossed the pen down and insisted, “And I told you, there will be no divorce going on between us, only death.”

——

As such, he didn’t sign.

From the very beginning, that was the promise between us: not divorce, only widowhood.

Without even glancing at the papers, he slammed the door and left.

Not long after, my phone buzzed with a voice message from an unknown number.

"You must be Paisley Sherman-Dittman. You’ve probably already seen them. He’s been keeping my photos since I was still in school. Geoffrey loves me, not you. If you don’t step aside, he’ll make you regret it."

Her voice on the recording was sweet, untouched by the world, full of naive courage. Or maybe he just kept her sheltered too well.

Before I could respond, she sent more than a dozen photos.

Her waist-to-hip curve was perfect, a chain draped across her collarbone and wrapped neatly around her waist. The huge hand rested lightly on her hip sometimes forgot to take off the wedding ring he wore with me.

Later, when her stomach began to swell, the chain disappeared.

“Three years of marriage and he never let you carry his child, but he allowed me to have his baby,” she taunted. “Don’t you get it? Isn’t it pathetic to keep clinging on? I’m telling you now. If you don’t give up your place, I’ll move right into your home. Then you’ll see whether Geoffrey stands with you or with me.”

When he came home, the chat records were still open on the screen, the floor littered with the shattered porcelain vase I had smashed.

Yet, he only lifted a brow and asked, “Nothing you’d like to explain?”

My ragged breathing mixed with the heavy smell of his cigar.

He gave a soft laugh, blowing out a smoke ring. “She’s just a kid. Why bother arguing with her?”

His tone was light, almost careless, as though all the blood and fire he waded through to rise in the business world had been for her, not for me.

“Yes, she really is just a kid,” I said and tossed a hospital record onto the table.

Upon seeing it, he froze, then sat upright instantly.

“She had a miscarriage,” I said lightly. “So I helped teach her what it means to be human.”

“Paisley!”

His hands clamped down on my shoulders so hard I thought my bones might break. My back also hit the wall, but I only curved my lips, enjoying the sight of his bloodshot eyes.

In this lifetime, I had only seen him like this twice.

First was in our last year of high school, when he saw my father drag me half-dressed by the hair into the street, ready to drown me in the river. That night, he stabbed my father eighteen times.

And now, because this girl had lost his child.

His grip tightened as he demanded an answer for my cruelty.

“How rare,” I whispered with a smile. “To finally see Mr. Dittman lose his composure.”

I laughed without a hint of remorse.

“You’re a woman yourself! How could you do something like that to her?” he shouted.

Paisley's POV

“You said it yourself. There will be no divorce going on between us, only widowhood.” I leaned in close and continued, “So, Mr. Dittman, if you won’t kill me, then I’ll have to kill the two of you.”

Just then, blood dripped onto the floor, and only then did he notice the cut on my hand from when I was smashing things.

Right after seeing that, he slowly loosened his grip on my shoulders.

“Well done,” he said. “I never wanted that child anyway.”

He then lifted my hand and gently wiped the blood away. When he pressed iodine to the wound, he did the same soft exhale he always did, a little habit from when he used to tend my injuries. Back then, when my father beat me until I was bruised all over, he could only find alcohol to sterilize my wounds. Even now, even if he wouldn’t use alcohol, he still took care not to hurt me.

Suddenly, a bloody palm print smeared his face.

“Stop it. It’s filthy,” I muttered.

His face was slightly turned due to impact, not arguing whether I meant the blood or him. Instead, he called for the housekeeper, Albert Curry, and handed him the first-aid kit.

The other woman’s name was Audrey Warren. When I tried to dig further, everything seemed to disappear. I knew Geoffrey was protecting her. If I hadn’t moved fast, I might never have even learned her name.

So I confronted him. “Is that how much you like her that you block my access to information?”

He only sighed. “Paisley, what’s the point of clinging to her?”

Tired of this game, I threw the divorce papers down in front of him again. “Sign. Then of course I won’t pester her.”

But after holding the papers for less than two seconds, he ripped them to shreds and flicked the fragments into the air, so they settled like confetti on the floor.

“I told you, divorce can't separate us, only death.”

I laughed.

The next second, a wine bottle was smashed into his head, and red liquid ran down his face. I couldn’t tell whether it was wine or blood, but I grabbed the dagger on the table and lunged.

But he swiftly clamped my wrist, countering my force.

“Geoffrey,” I said while we were less than an inch apart. “Do you really think I daren’t? Divorce, or one of us dies?”

Our hands were shaking, but I wouldn't back down. For a moment, the standoff held. Then he let out a soft laugh and redirected his strength inward. As such, the dagger drove into his shoulder under my hand, and blood splashed onto my face.

“I told you, I won’t let you die before me.”

“Geoffrey!” I ground my teeth as he released my wrist.

“Do it, Paisley,” he said.

When I pulled the dagger free with all my might, he gave a muffled groan, and my face was streaked with blood. The metallic tang brought back the rainy night in our final year of high school.

I swayed and fell. Luckily, he caught me before I hit the floor.

“Don’t be afraid. It’s okay. I’m here.” His hand smoothed my cheek.

I watched the beads of blood drip from his brow and land on my face. He showed no concern for his own wound, only for me. During the countless nights my father beat me until my skin split, he had held me like this. He used his back to shield me from bottles, stools, and even knives. Amid my father’s rage, he’d grin and whisper, “Don’t be afraid. It’s okay. I’m here.”

Once, we’d clung to each other in blood and kissed in the downpour. But love pushed to the extreme made betrayal that much more monstrous.

With that thought in mind, I shoved him away. “Don’t touch me.”

Then, stumbling, I fled the room heavy with the smell of blood.

For a while, we kept our distance and pretended to be okay. But the girl was still being protected by him, and there wasn’t a trace of her for me to find.

Paisley's POV

But youth was restless. She couldn’t keep her temper and came to find me herself.

“Have you been looking for him lately? I’ll tell you straight, he’s with me.” She arrived in a fitted dress, all smug satisfaction. “You really thought getting rid of my baby would solve everything?”

She leaned in, pride written all over her smile. “As long as his love is with me, you can take away every child I carry, and he’ll only love me more. He’s been trying even harder lately. Thanks for the assist, sis.”

Her low-cut blouse revealed a flawless neck and a half-exposed breast. There, countless kiss marks mapped her body, an open proclamation of how completely Geoffrey had loved her. She then cradled her flat belly like a trophy and announced, almost gleefully, “Too bad for you. I’m pregnant again.”

Not paying her any attention, I took a quiet sip of coffee while she perched on the custom sofa I’d had made, propping her chin in her hands. “I heard you and Geoffrey haven’t produced an heir in three years,” she said. “It's really hard to get pregnant, isn't it?”

She then laughed at something she found amusing. “Well, sometimes it really isn’t the man’s fault.”

The cup clicked on the table. Then she screamed.

The bodyguards stood frozen as Audrey clutched her stomach and bled from below.

“Paisley! You’ll pay for this!” she shrieked.

They dragged her toward the door while she tore at the air. “Paisley! Aren’t you afraid Geoffrey will get revenge on you for this?”

Fingertips tapped the marble tabletop as I replied coolly, “You should know, being a wife isn’t just about having a man’s love.”

That night, Geoffrey came home with dozens of men, filling an entire floor of the estate. He was never so showy unless he was facing a difficult opponent. Clearly, this time, he was on edge.

We sat at opposite ends of a long negotiation table, each flanked by dozens of people.

“Twice now,” he said, his long fingers rapping the marble. “Paisley, you should apologize to her.”

“She came to my house like a fool, so she must take responsibility for her recklessness,” I shot back.

Half his face was swallowed in shadow, expression unreadable.

“Do you think your wife will simply endure quietly if some mistress shows up?” I asked.

A lighter flared in the dark as I lit a cigarette and let the ember glow for a moment. “Geoffrey, remember all those years clawing your way through the business world? I bled with you, right? So why would I let that canary stand opposite me? Are you insane, or is she?”

For the nth time, I slid a divorce agreement across to him and blew a smoke ring. “This is your last chance.”

Moonlight washed the marble but not our faces. We stared at each other out of the darkness.

“You helped me kill my monster of a father and storm the household for me when I was a child. In exchange, I gave up a child for you and bled for you. So now, let’s end this cleanly, Geoffrey. We both walk away. No debts, no blood left owing. This is the best thing we could do.”

“The best thing,” he laughed low, echoing in the dark.

He then picked up the papers. The lighter flared against a cigar as he watched the pages curl and blacken. As such, the divorce agreement turned to ash.

“After tonight, she won’t appear before you again.” He blew the ashes out, drifting in the air.

Then he stood, gathered his men, and left the estate in a slow, imposing procession.