I knew—Ethan was protecting her.
If I hadn’t acted quickly, I wouldn’t even have learned her name.
I confronted Ethan:
“You like her that much, that you’d even block information from me?”
He sighed. “Sophia, what’s the point of holding on to her?”
Once more, I threw the divorce papers in front of him:
“Sign them, and I won’t pursue her any further.”
The papers didn’t last two seconds in his hands before being ripped to shreds.
He flung the scraps into the air.
“I told you, between us there’s no divorce. Only widowhood.”
I laughed.
The next second, a wine bottle crashed against his head.
Red liquid slid down his face, impossible to tell whether it was wine or blood.
I grabbed the knife from the table and drove it toward him.
He caught my wrist in an iron grip, resisting my downward force.
“Ethan.”
Our faces were less than an inch apart.
“You really think I won’t do it?”
Our hands trembled, but I refused to yield.
“Divorce—or one of us dies.”
The standoff lasted only a few seconds.
Then, with a quiet laugh, he shifted the force toward himself.
My hand, trapped in his, sank the blade deep into his shoulder.
Blood splattered across my face.
“I told you, I won’t let you die before me.”
“Ethan!”