Chapter 4

"You've successfully completed a stage of your desensitization."

The next day at noon, James booked out a high-end revolving restaurant in Southport.

"I promise, there won't be a single dog today."

"Just a few friends."

I wore the white dress he'd picked out, and I'd done my makeup.

In my bag were the documents Saul had dropped off that morning.

The moment I pushed open the restaurant doors.

A deafening roar of cheers swept over me.

The giant LED screen was scrolling with the words "Myrtle Swanson Fan Meetup."

Dozens of people holding up their phones all turned to look at me at once.

Myrtle, in a red dress, stood in the center.

"Thank you all for coming to witness my best friend's rebirth!"

"The ultimate desensitization test starts now."

James had been gripping my hand tightly, and inch by inch he let it go.

"Jasmine, be brave. Step across it, and you'll be free."

There was a snap.

Every light in the room went out at once.

A deafening barking erupted from the speakers.

From somewhere, James led out a Rottweiler that stood half as tall as a person.

It was a vicious breed used for riot control and hunting.

The blood in my body froze instantly, and my legs went so weak I could barely stand.

The physical terror set me trembling violently, beyond my control.

"James..."

James's voice sounded in the darkness.

"Easy, don't be afraid, I'm right here."

Then came the crisp click of a latch being released.

The Rottweiler drove me into a corner.

A rough tongue licked my neck, and sharp teeth grazed my collarbone.

Its heavy panting was right against my ear.

"Look, everyone, this is the power of science."

Not far off, Myrtle had started a paid live stream.

"Someone who used to be scared of even a Chihuahua can now be up close with a Rottweiler."

James stood at the edge of the light, looking down at the watch on his wrist.

He was keeping time.

Flashbulbs went off all across the room; they were all watching the show.

I bit down hard on the back of my hand, forcing myself to swallow every scream.

Blood ran down my forearm and dripped onto the white dress.

In the dim light, with my other trembling hand.

I quietly slipped the miniature voice recorder and pinhole camera out of my bag.

It captured the dog's frenzy perfectly.

It recorded Myrtle's teasing.

It recorded James's cold countdown.

"Ten minutes. Time's up."

James whistled, and the Rottweiler backed off.

The lights blazed on.

James walked over smiling, arms opening to receive me.

But when he saw me clearly, the curve of his lips stiffened a little.

The white dress was torn by the dog's claws, and my hands were covered in deep bite marks I'd left myself.

Blood dripped onto the floor.

There was a clear tremor in James's voice.

"Jasmine, how did you do this to yourself?"

"Didn't I tell you not to be afraid? I would never have let it actually bite you!"

I looked at him steadily, no breakdown, no hysterics.

The eyes that had been brimming with tears were now oddly calm.

I jerked my hand back, refusing his touch.

I opened my bag and pulled out the $18,600 vet bill for the dog.

Along with the divorce agreement Saul had drafted.

I slapped them against James's chest.

James caught them on reflex.

"What is this?"

"Jasmine, stop making a scene, let's get you bandaged up first..."

I walked past him, past the still-panting dog, past the dumbfounded Myrtle and the crowd.

And headed straight out the restaurant doors.

James stood where he was, frowning as he picked up the blood-stained stack of papers.

He thought I was throwing another little tantrum, and he was about to toss the papers away.

Until he glimpsed the large heading showing beneath the bill.

Divorce Agreement.