Chapter 1

The wedding was half over, and Chad Gilbert and I were just about to exchange rings.

That's when his ex-girlfriend, the one who claimed she had severe depression, suddenly called him on video.

"Chad, I'm having an episode. I can't feel anything, no matter what I do."

"Slap your wife right now to cheer me up, or I'll jump off this building!"

Chad frowned. "What are you talking about."

Then he hung up.

I thought it was just some absurd prank, and I was still holding out my hand, waiting for him to slide the ring on.

He cupped my finger, raised his other hand, and slapped me hard across the face.

My head snapped to the side. The little diamonds on the ring tore my skin, and blood welled up in an instant.

The guests around us all froze. The only one clapping was Sapphire Matthews, still on the video call.

Tears stinging my eyes, I pressed a hand to my face and lifted my head. "She's happy now. Can you take me to the hospital? I'm scared it'll leave a scar."

He went rigid for a second, his hand reaching toward my face, then flinching back. Then he scrambled to help me up.

"Come on. We're going to the hospital right now."

I lowered my head, but a cold smile tugged at my lips.

We were a legally married couple.

Inside a marriage, public domestic violence plus a documented injury report from the hospital was the best recipe for sending him out with nothing.

...

I glanced over the strange expressions on the guests below, then dropped my eyes, my voice pressed low and soft.

"Honey, you won't hit me like that again, will you? I'm so scared."

Only then did Chad fully come back to himself. "Deidre Pruitt, blame me. It's all my fault."

I pressed my lips together and said nothing, tears swimming in my eyes.

Seeing me stay silent, he added guiltily, "Sapphire really was going to jump. I couldn't just watch her die, could I? That's a human life."

The corners of my mouth pulled down. I drew my hand back. "I don't blame you."

The emergency room reeked of disinfectant.

The nurse held a cotton ball in a pair of tweezers and pressed it against my cheekbone. I gripped the armrest and sucked in a breath at the pain.

Chad hovered behind me, all attentiveness. "What do you want to eat? I'll have someone bring it."

For a moment my mind went blank.

Three years, and he was rarely this eager?

Back when I used to get stomach cramps in the middle of the night, crying so hard I couldn't stop, all he'd say was "drink more hot water," then roll over and go back to sleep.

If he'd been like this from the start, I probably would have been out of my mind with joy.

But now, watching him tiptoe around me like this, I just felt hollow.

I pulled the thin hospital blanket over half my face and muttered, "Not hungry."

Left hanging for a while, Chad finally couldn't keep his expression in check.

He stood up, his voice hardening. "How many times do I have to say it? I was saving a life. Is that really worth turning on me?"

I didn't answer. I closed my eyes and turned onto my side.

He didn't say anything more. His footsteps faded, and when they came back, he set down a stack of plastic containers on the chair next to me.

The moment I lifted a lid, the smell of chili oil hit me so hard my nose stung.

Spicy poached beef, a fiery spicy stew... every one of them the kind of thing that would inflame my wound, and every one of them Sapphire's old favorites.

I stared at those containers for a long moment before I looked up at him.

"Chad, I have a stomach condition. I never eat anything spicy."

He froze, glanced down at the bags, his lips moving, but he stood there with nothing to say.

I sat up and pushed the blanket aside, looking up at him. "In a few days, when you have time, let's get the divorce done."