I looked at him—so self-righteous, so convinced of his own lies—and suddenly, I laughed.
That was my husband.
A liar.
A murderer.
I picked up the knife from the ground.
With all the strength I had left, I slashed my chest over and over, cutting deep until my clothes were soaked in blood.
Samuel’s eyes widened in horror. "Lydia! What are you doing?! Stop it!"
I dropped the knife and met his gaze calmly. "You’re right, Samuel. I shouldn’t have hurt a mother. So I’m atoning for my sins—to your beloved. Is this enough sincerity for you?"
With that, I turned and walked away.
Blood dripped from my wounds, leaving a trail behind me.
My steps were unsteady, but I never looked back.
Samuel hesitated, instinctively reaching out to help me—but Xandra clung to his neck, her voice pitiful and weak.
"Sam, it hurts so much... Can you take me to the hospital? We can’t let Apollo go hungry."
Samuel struggled for a moment.
Then, he made his choice. He carried Xandra in his arms and walked in the opposite direction.
A few hours later, my phone rang.