With that, I confronted Faye. “You like him that much that you’ve cut off my access to all his messages?”
She let out a slow, measured sigh. “Chester, what’s the point of clinging to her?”
I flung the divorce papers at her again and demanded, “Sign them, and I’ll let you be. I won’t go after your baby boy.”
Faye made the decision that settled everything. The agreement didn’t last two seconds in her hands before she tore it into pieces and scattered the confetti across the floor.
“I told you that between us there is no divorce, and only death can separate us.”
I only laughed.
Everything changed in an instant. A wine bottle came crashing down on Faye's head. Red liquid streamed down her cheek, and it was impossible to tell if it was wine or blood.
I snatched the dagger from the table and charged.
She clamped onto my wrist, bracing herself against the downward force.
“Faye.” I was within a centimeter of her face. “Do you really think I won't?”
We held each other in that tense breath. Our hands trembled, neither yielding.
“Sign the divorce, or one of us dies," I growled.
But the standoff didn’t last.