“Grace is doing this for your own good. If you hadn’t sinned so much, maybe the kid wouldn’t have died so horribly. Stand down!”
I stared at him, incredulous.
In this life, I’ve only wronged two people—
my mother, and my child.
Countless nights, the guilt strangled me until I could barely breathe.
But of all people, Ethan Carter is the last one entitled to blame me.
If he had listened to me and not underestimated the enemy, he wouldn’t have been captured.
And I wouldn’t have lost my baby—or the right to be a mother—saving him.
That day, Ethan cradled my blood-soaked body and dropped to his knees before the doctors, begging them to save me.
That night, he knelt outside the operating room and prayed to God hundreds of times:
“I’m willing to trade whatever years I have left for Anna Moore.”
“From now on, this life is only for Anna.”
I bowed my head and let out a low, shaking laugh, shoulders trembling, then tossed the tongs aside.
Ethan finally exhaled.
“Anna, you—”
The next second, one of his ears hit the floor.
I twirled the knife and wiped the blood spatter off my face.
“So filthy.”
I smiled at him.
“Ethan, are you getting old? Why don’t you understand plain English anymore?”