Chapter 1

It was Valentine's Day when a thug burst into the emergency room and pressed a blade against my throat.

Things were getting desperate, so the police got in touch with my husband, Matthew Carter.

Through the speaker, I heard him yell, his voice dripping with impatience, "Avery, are you insane? You'd really fake a police call just to check up on me? I'm at Jessica's prenatal appointment. I don't have time for your little games."

The officer said, "Mr. Carter, this is the police. Your wife is being held hostage for real."

Matthew said, "Then let them kill her. That'll make room for Jessica's baby, and I won't even have to bother with a divorce."

A beep, and the line went dead.

Even the thug was stunned for a second, and his grip on the knife loosened.

"Lady, your husband's a total piece of work," he mumbled.

I wiped my tears, and while he was still caught off guard, I spun around, yanked the knife out of his hand, and drove it into his thigh.

I wasn't that weepy nurse I used to be. I was a surgeon now, someone who handled a scalpel every single day.

After I tended to my wound, I sent Matthew a text: [Sorry to break it to you, but your plan to become a widower just failed. So, are you ready to walk away with absolutely nothing?]

*****

Less than ten minutes after I sent the text, Matthew called.

I didn't pick up.

He called again. Then a third time.

I still didn't answer. I just turned my phone off.

Half an hour later, Matthew burst into the police station lobby.

He was wearing a designer suit. His hair was perfectly in place. He smelled a little like disinfectant.

He spotted me right away. I was sitting in the corner.

My neck was wrapped in thick gauze. My lab coat had blood stains all over it.

Matthew walked over fast. His voice was sharp. "Avery, are you done making a scene? It's Valentine's Day, and you got the cops involved. You might not care about losing face, but I do."

A young detective nearby jumped up and stepped in front of me.

"Mr. Carter, watch your attitude. Your wife was just held at knifepoint," the detective said.

Matthew gave a cold laugh and pointed a finger at me.

He said, "Held at knifepoint? She looks fine to me. I knew it. You're just putting on a show. Avery, did you actually hire someone to stage all this just to get me to come home? Do you have any idea how much you scared Jessica with that call? She got so worked up that it put her pregnancy at risk."

I looked up calmly at the man I had spent three years married to.

I stood up, stepped around the detective, and walked right up to Matthew.

A loud slap echoed through the police station lobby.

Matthew stood there stunned, holding his face and staring at me like he couldn't believe it. "You actually hit me?" he blurted out.

"That slap was for the Avery who almost died back there," I said, my voice rough.

His cheek twitched. But instead of getting angry, he let out a sneer and raised his hand to hit me back.

"You're crazy," he spat.

Before he could get close, the detective caught his wrist mid‑swing and held it tight.

"Mr. Carter, this is a police station. You want to hit an officer now or your wife?" the detective snapped.

Matthew tried to pull free, but failed.

Exasperated, he yelled, "She started it! Are you blind or something?"

The detective shot back, his voice cold, "We only saw the victim defending herself. As for you, Mr. Carter, we already saved the recording of that call.

"You tried to incite murder. It didn't work, but what you did is still a serious crime."

Matthew's face changed in an instant.

He glanced at the thick gauze around my neck. For a second, something flickered in his eyes. But then impatience washed it away.

"Look, you're obviously fine. Now come with me to the hospital and apologize to Jessica. She's a wreck. You're a doctor. Go talk to her, calm her down, tell her it was all a misunderstanding," he snapped.

I couldn't help but laugh out of sheer anger.

"Matthew, is your brain pickled in formaldehyde or something?" I shot back.

Matthew frowned. "What do you mean? Jessica is carrying my first child, my family's blood. You can't have kids, so now you want to ruin it for someone else?

"Go apologize to her and clean up this mess. Do that, and you can still be my wife. If not..."

I pulled out my phone and played the recording the police had made.

"Then let them kill her. That'll make room for Jessica's baby..." Matthew's voice came through, sounding especially harsh in the quiet lobby.

His face darkened to a livid purple. He lunged for my phone.

"Avery, you bitch! You recorded me?" he snarled.

I stepped back and gave him a cold look.

"I have ten backups of it. And I've already sent them to your parents, your company's board, and... the media," I said.

Matthew froze. He stared at me, his eyes locked on mine.

"Are you insane? What do you gain by destroying me? We're married. We're partners. Everything we have is tied together," he snapped.

"Not for much longer," I said.

I turned to the detective. "I want to press charges. My husband, Matthew Carter, is suspected of attempted murder and bigamy," I said.

Matthew's face went pale as a ghost. He rushed toward me, trying to grab my arm. "Avery. Don't cause a scene. Let's talk about this!" he pleaded.

I turned and looked him straight in the eye. "There's nothing to talk about, Matthew. Get ready for your court summons," I said.