Chapter 1
On New Year's Eve, pregnant with twins, I had my winter coat taken off by my beloved husband, Baz Greene, and was locked out on the rooftop in minus twenty degrees.
Baz was sick. His severe psychosis made him shut out everyone around him during his episodes, except for the maid who looked like his first love.
The doctor said only I could help him since I was a psychology expert.
I was willing to be Baz's loving wife when he was clear-headed, and his emotional punching bag when he lost control.
For three years, I covered up his illness and took the hits for him from the family, only to be cast aside for another woman whenever he lost control.
Just now, the maid smashed the festival decoration, and I said, "Why can't you be more careful?"
Baz, like a furious lion, clamped his hand around my throat and dragged me out onto the rooftop.
No matter how I begged, reminding him I was carrying his children, all he cared about was that twisted urge to protect the maid.
He said, "Serena, even if you freeze to death, she mustn't suffer!"
The cold wind cut through me like a blade, and warm blood poured from between my legs, staining the snow a deep red.
Through the floor-to-ceiling window, I watched Baz softly whispering to the terrified maid clinging to him.
I pressed my hand to my belly, now eerily still, and felt the last shred of hope inside me finally die.
I didn't want to treat Baz's illness anymore.
*****
The cold overhead lights in the ER snapped on, flooding everything in a sterile glow.
The doctor came to the end of my bed, holding the report in his hands.
With regret in his voice, he told me the twins were already gone, and the only thing left to do was a procedure to remove them.
I ran my hand over my now-flat belly.
This place once nurtured two vibrant lives. Now, all that was left was emptiness.
The hospital room door burst open.
Baz stumbled in, frantic and disheveled.
All the madness from last night had vanished.
Now, all that remained was raw panic.
He dropped to his knees beside my bed and slapped himself hard across the face.
Baz slapped himself hard across the face, the heel of his hand landing on his cheekbone and leaving an angry red mark.
This wasn't the first time he'd punished himself after he regained clarity.
For the past three years, every time he hurt me during an episode, he'd always sink into this intense guilt and self-loathing.
Baz choked out, "Serena, I lost control. I couldn't help myself.
"I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you and the children we lost."
He reached for my wrist, trying to hold it.
My body instinctively recoiled.
I couldn't help but remember, hours ago, he'd torn my winter coat off out in the blizzard.
His face was cold and hard, completely ignoring my desperate pleas.
Now, this sudden tenderness sent a chill through me.
Zea Stevenson was wheeled in by a nurse, looking frail and shaken.
Her hands were wrapped in thick white bandages.
Her face was ghostly pale, and she huddled in the wheelchair, looking small and scared.
Zea said, "Mrs. Greene, I shouldn't have broken the decoration last night, and I really shouldn't have pulled away when you reached for me.
"It was my fault Mr. Greene had an episode. I'm so sorry."
As she spoke, tears streamed down her face, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
Zea struggled with severe PTSD.
Two years ago, Baz had rescued her from human traffickers.
Ever since, she'd shut out the world, seeing Baz as her only safe haven.
That kind of clingy dependence played right into Baz's twisted urge to shield her whenever he lost it.
When Baz heard her crying, his whole body went rigid.
His expression hardened, the guilt fading from his face.
He shot to his feet, strode over to the wheelchair, and put himself between Zea and everyone else.
The husband who'd sworn to make it up to me was back to being the knight for someone else.
Norris Jenning, who was Baz's assistant, rushed into the room, clutching an urgent document.
He handed it to Baz.
Norris said, "Mr. Greene, Mrs. Greene's psychology clinic was forcibly shut down last night.
"They've sealed it off, and all the patient records are now frozen."
This was the order Baz had given during his manic episode last night.
All because I said one thing to Zea, he was ready to wipe out everything I'd poured my heart into.
Baz pulled out his checkbook and quickly wrote out a check for a huge amount.
He placed the check on my bedside table.
He said, "I'll make it up to you for the clinic.
"Focus on getting better. This ends here. Don't blame Zea anymore."
The check, bearing his personal stamp, lay quietly beside my pillow.
For three years, I used my credentials as a psychologist to fend off all sorts of family drama for him.
I put my license on the line to cover up his condition.
When he was sane, he spoiled me like I was his whole world, even went so far as to offer Greene Group's shares when he proposed to me.
But whenever he lost it, he'd throw me under the bus for another woman.
His love when he was sane could never erase the wounds he inflicted during his episodes.
I pressed the call button by my bed.
The on-duty doctor walked in while holding the paperwork.
I picked up the pen and firmly signed my name on the agreement to terminate the doctor-patient relationship between Baz and me.
Baz locked his eyes on the agreement, his breath coming in ragged bursts.
I handed the agreement to the doctor in silence.
I thought that once I signed my discharge papers, I'd finally be free from this relationship for good.
While barely holding myself together as I returned to the villa to pack, I discovered a secret medical report tucked away in the safe in his study.