“Hahaha, no way. Althea, you’re finished—”
The laughter cut short.
By the time anyone reacted, the man lay bleeding on the floor.
“Evander!”
Althea clutched his arm, pressing against his chest.
“Don’t be rash! Calm down!”
And unbelievably—he did.
His voice softened in her embrace.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have agreed to this game.”
She smiled, stroking his back.
“I don’t blame you. You’re my boy, after all.”
The tension eased. Laughter returned.
Before the ambulance arrived, I turned and fled the bar—stomach cramping, heart already ashes.
I thought about his ambiguous relationship with Althea. I thought I was prepared. But I still hadn’t expected him to lose control so completely—for her.
I’d never seen such a sinister and devoted expression on his face. Even when we were in the heat of our relationship, when I was bullied, he only said threateningly, “I’ve called the police. I’ll talk to my lawyer later.”
It wasn’t that he was naturally indifferent. It was just that I wasn’t the one person he would make an exception for.
That night, I took a taxi to the hospital and had an abortion.
Before the procedure, Evander messaged me: Come pick her up at the police station.