"Michelle, if you can't tolerate Faith, fine. But why did you have to harm the child?" He loomed over me, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Do you know you nearly caused a miscarriage? You drugged her!"
He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me. "We've been married seven years, and you never gave me a child. She's carrying my firstborn, and you can't even tolerate that?"
The sheer audacity left me paralyzed.
I shoved the divorce papers against his chest. Since I couldn't speak, I pulled out my phone and typed furiously, fingers trembling.
Are you blind? I never touched her! What does her child have to do with me?
She killed my child!
She destroyed my throat!
He slapped me again. Harder. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.
"Stop making excuses! You called her to the café. She drank the water you gave her. Are you suggesting she tried to kill her own baby?"
From the bed, Faith let out a weak, hiccupping sob. She looked fragile, the picture of innocence.
"John... don't blame Michelle." She wept softly. "She did it because she loves you. She's just jealous. I'm the one who upset her. If hurting me makes her feel better, I'll bear it. I don't want to come between you two."