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My mercenary husband Jax spent a night in the jungle with his drugged teammate Selene. Seven times, he claimed, he had to be with her to "burn the poison out." When he returned, carrying her half-naked body, he knelt before me. "Iris, Selene was poisoned trying to save me. I have to help her!" After that, every time Selene was "drugged," my husband would run to her. Six months later, he came to me with the ultimate plea. "Iris, Selene is pregnant with my child! You know you can't have kids. So once it's born, I'll bring it to you. You can raise it as your own." Agony twisted my heart. I swallowed back the tears and forced out a calm, "Okay." The crumpled pregnancy test report I'd hidden in my hand was tossed into the fire pit. Flames danced, and Selene coughed twice from the smoke. Jax immediately pulled her into his embrace, frowning at me. "Iris, Selene has promised me she'll hand the baby over to you once it's born. You don't need to threaten her. She won't come between us." I poked at the ashes in the basin, letting the smoke sting my eyes, a convenient cover for the redness already there. I spoke calmly. "Jax, let's get a divorce." Jax reached out anxiously, trying to pull me closer, pleading again. "Iris, don't make a scene, okay? Selene took a bullet for me, and then she was forced to take a toxic injection to save me. I owe her my life. Giving her a child in return isn't asking too much!" His tone