He added, “Besides… she loves me like crazy. I bet if I told her to die for me, she’d actually do it.”
I clutched my chest tightly. Never had I imagine Steven would blurt out such words.
The Harts have been in business for generations—which means we’ve always had a target on our backs.
Six years ago, Mom and I were traveling abroad when we were ambushed. A group of armed men grabbed her, pressed a gun to her temple.
I screamed myself hoarse, thinking I was about to watch my mother die.
Then, a sharp crack cut through the air. One clean shot. The man dropped dead on the spot.
That’s when I saw him—Steven—gun still warm in his hand, uniform crisp, broad-shouldered and all sharp lines, moving with lethal precision. He didn’t just save us. He stole my heart that day.
Later, in the back of a military SUV, I saw his face clearly—angular jaw, high-bridged nose, impossibly handsome. I fell in love at first sight.
I chased him for a year before he finally gave in and agreed to date me.
We were together for five years. I hung on his every word. But all of my sincerity was met with betrayal.
It’s almost laughable.
The bathroom door creaked open.