True loyalty was the cheapest, and yet the most precious thing of all.
I ejected the magazine, kicked him into the mud.
Forbade anyone from covering him with an umbrella.
Let the rain drench him pale.
“Come back when you’re clean.”
“Adrian, there will never be a next time.”
For the next three years, whenever Adrian was in Newport City, he always came home before ten.
He gave me a yacht named after me, anchored in Hudson Bay, set to sail only for me.
He brought my favorite singer to Madison Square Garden, holding a private concert just for me.
We kissed atop Twin Peaks Hill, and wandered alleys for nothing more than a glass of iced lemon tea.
Everyone in Newport City feared Adrian.
But they all admitted one thing—Adrian loved me deeply.
Yet when I saw that woman’s unchanging smirk, I knew.
Adrian didn’t love me deeply—he had simply learned how to protect her better.
The hatred dragged my heart down like molten lead.
As my father said, Adrian was a good knife.
But the hand gripping him was not mine.
I wiped away my tears, pulling out the gun I hadn’t touched in three years.
The first shot shattered our wedding photo.
The glass split down the middle, separating Adrian’s hand from mine.