Chapter 2 — Murder in the Name of Love

Selena drifted in and out of awareness.

Pain came first—sharp and disorienting—then faded into something dull and distant, like a warning she could no longer react to. Her body felt heavy, unresponsive, as if it no longer belonged to her.

Voices floated above her.

Muted. Careful.

“She’s still breathing.”

The words sent panic crashing through her mind. Selena tried to open her eyes. Tried to move her fingers. Nothing happened. Her body refused every command.

A pause followed.

Then her husband spoke, his voice low and steady. Too steady.

“That won’t matter.”

Selena’s heart slammed against her ribs. She wanted to scream, to tell him she was awake, that she could hear him—but her lips wouldn’t part.

She was trapped.

“Are you sure?” her best friend asked. There was a tremor in her voice, faint but unmistakable. “This isn’t… this isn’t too far?”

Too far.

The words were almost funny.

“We’ve already crossed that line,” he replied. “There’s no turning back now.”

Selena felt hands touch her—turning her slightly, checking her pulse. The contact made her stomach churn. She wanted to recoil, but she lay there like a broken doll.

“She trusted you,” the woman whispered.

“Yes,” he agreed calmly. “That’s why this worked.”

A sound escaped Selena’s throat—a broken, helpless noise she hadn’t intended to make.

Both voices stopped.

“She made a sound,” her best friend said quickly.

Her husband crouched beside Selena. She sensed him close, felt the warmth of his presence, the same presence that had once made her feel safe.

He leaned down.

“Selena,” he said softly, almost kindly. “If you can hear me… I’m sorry.”

Sorry.

The word scraped against her chest.

“I didn’t plan for it to end like this,” he continued. “But you left me no choice.”

Left him no choice.

Selena wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. She wanted to claw his eyes out.

Instead, tears slid silently from the corners of her eyes.

“Oh,” the woman said, noticing. “She’s crying.”

There was a brief silence.

Then her husband straightened. “Finish it.”

“No,” her best friend said sharply. “I—I can’t.”

“You can,” he replied. “And you will.”

Selena felt a sudden pressure on her chest. A sharp pain followed, blooming violently before dissolving into numbness. Her thoughts scattered, disjointed, slipping in and out like a broken signal.

Her vision blurred.

She could barely make out shapes now—shadows moving, figures looming above her.

“Do it,” he repeated.

“I didn’t think it would feel like this,” the woman whispered, voice shaking. “She was my friend.”

“You stopped being friends the moment you climbed into my bed,” he said flatly.

The pressure intensified.

Selena’s heartbeat stuttered.

Her breath came in shallow, useless gasps.

She remembered small things then—laughing over coffee with the same woman now hovering above her, late nights working while her husband complained she didn’t spend enough time at home, the way her parents had begged her to slow down, to be careful, to not give everything away so easily.

We warned you, her mother’s voice echoed in her mind.

Regret flooded her—not hot and dramatic, but cold and suffocating.

Not regret for loving him.

Regret for trusting him.

For believing loyalty was mutual.

For thinking sacrifice meant devotion.

“She signed everything,” her husband said suddenly. “The shares are already transferred. Half the company is mine now.”

Selena’s chest tightened painfully.

That was the real reason.

Her life had a price tag.

“And the rest?” the woman asked.

“We’ll get it eventually,” he replied. “Without her in the way.”

A wet sound reached Selena’s ears. She couldn’t tell what it was, but instinct told her it was blood. Her blood.

The room tilted.

Darkness crept in from the edges of her vision, thick and inevitable.

Her best friend stepped into her line of sight. Selena could barely see her face now, but she recognized the outline, the familiar curve of her jaw.

The woman wiped her hands on a towel, her expression twisted with something like disgust—or fear.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again. “It was never personal.”

Never personal.

Selena’s thoughts slowed.

Her body grew cold.

The sounds of the room faded, replaced by a deep, roaring silence. Her heartbeat weakened, each pulse farther apart than the last.

In those final moments, clarity cut through the haze.

She saw herself as she had been—smiling, hopeful, foolishly certain that love could protect her from anything.

She understood now.

Love hadn’t protected her.

It had blinded her.

If I could live again…

The thought came unbidden, fragile but sharp.

I would never love like this.

Her heart gave one final, uneven beat.

Then everything went dark