"Esther, you've been married to Derek for three years and never carried his child. But he let me carry his baby. Don't you get it? What's the point of clinging on? If you won’t give up, I’ll move into your home myself. Let’s see whose side Derek takes then—yours or mine."
When Derek came home, he found the shattered glass ornaments scattered across the floor—and me standing there with the phone in hand.
He only raised a brow as he said, "Don't you have anything to say?"
My ragged breathing mingled with the smoke from his cigar.
He chuckled softly, exhaled a ring of smoke, and sighed. "She's just a girl. Why bother lowering yourself to her level?"
His tone was light as if all the bloodshed he endured in the capital had been for her, not me.
"Yes, she's young and foolish." I tossed a medical report onto the table.
His body stiffened instantly.
"She was pregnant," I said flatly. "So I taught her a lesson and made her grow up."
"Esther!"
His hands clamped down on my shoulders so hard it felt like my bones would snap. My back hit the wall. I curled my lips, savoring the redness burning in his eyes.
In this lifetime, he'd only bled anger from his eyes twice.