Evan sneered at me, his smile sharp and malicious. "Francine said it herself, Carson. I'm much better than you. In work, in bed, all of it. She regrets marrying you, and even more, she regrets not meeting me sooner. This trip to the Maldives? That's the honeymoon she promised me. Don't worry. I'll take better care of her than you ever did. Maybe even get her pregnant with our kid!"
That was it—the final straw.
I raised my fist, prepared to hit, but suddenly I felt a cold object in my hand.
Unaware, Evan had secretly concealed a small knife there. Before I could realize what was happening, he seized my wrist, pulled my arm toward his stomach, and pushed the knife in.
"Ahhh!" Evan screamed, the sound tearing through the air, and blood soaked his white shirt instantly.
I froze, unable to grasp what had just occurred.
Then, I heard rushed footsteps.
“Evan!”
Francine burst into the room. Her eyes went wide, and she paled the moment she saw the scene.
Without hesitation, she hurried to his side, hands trembling as she pressed them against his wound.