Chapter 1The Seventh Year: The Bird Has Flown

Seven years into our marriage, the "pet" Holden Winchester kept on the side got bored.

She turned tail and ran, leaving behind only one sentence:

"Holden, I’ve got enough of your money. Now, I don't want you anymore either."

I watched from the sidelines, coldly waiting to see how long Holden could tolerate this.

After all, scenes like this had been playing out constantly for the past three years.

But this time, he just smiled with terrifying indifference. "She's just a pet. Did she really think I gave her my heart?"

That was until, not long after, news broke that her car had crashed and burned.

The man who had always been cold and unfeeling instantly went insane.

* * *

After Mia died, Holden acted like a man possessed. He locked himself in his study, refusing to eat or drink.

I knocked on the door. The only response was a cold, "Get out."

I knew he was grieving. I wanted to apologize.

But I shut my mouth, realizing how ridiculous I was being.

We hadn't divorced yet. He was the one who cheated. Why should I be the one to say sorry?

I looked at the cold dinner on the table. The soup I had spent five hours simmering had formed a congealed film on top.

It smelled faintly of decay.

I dumped it all into the trash compactor.

Just like our twenty-year bond. If I didn't throw it out now, it would only rot and breed maggots.

Disgusting to me, and disgusting to everyone else.

On the eighth day, Holden finally emerged.

He had cleaned himself up, shaved, and returned to his usual untouchable, elite persona.

But the look he gave me was darker than ever, as if I were the one responsible for his beloved’s death.

I looked at him calmly, waiting for the storm.

We had known each other for years, married for seven. From school uniforms to wedding gowns, I always thought we were walking the same path.

But halfway through, someone decided to get off the bus. I was forced to accept it.

"Where is she?" Holden’s voice was dead, devoid of emotion.

After a long silence, I whispered, "Buried."

Holden’s face instantly darkened. He looked at me with intense hatred.

"Genevieve, who gave you permission to bury her?"

"Do your dirty hands... even... deserve... to touch her?"

His eyes were ferocious, grinding the words out through clenched teeth.

I could feel that if I weren't pregnant right now, he would have rushed over to strangle me.

But I overestimated my place in his heart.

The next second, I was pinned against the sofa. His large hand tightened around my throat, squeezing the last bit of air from my lungs.

The world spun. Darkness encroached on my vision. Sounds faded away.

His tone was maniacal. "You really think being pregnant makes you safe?"

"It’s just a mistake. Did you really think I’d care about it?"

"Mia is dead. Don't worry, you and the little bastard in your belly are next."

The terror of suffocation made me want to scream for help, but my throat was clamped shut. Not a sound came out.

I realized then that Holden really wanted me dead.

I don't know how much time passed before the weight vanished, followed by the sound of the front door slamming.

Consciousness slowly returned. I sat on the sofa, dazed.

I picked up my phone and scheduled an appointment at the clinic.