He Saved His Old Flame. I Erased Myself
I was three months pregnant when our enemies ambushed me on a private drive in Manhattan’s East Side.
A bullet punched through the window. Glass buried itself in my shoulder. With the last bit of strength I had, I hit the Moretti family’s encrypted distress signal and called my husband, Adrian Moretti, for help.
He didn’t come.
Later, I found out he had pulled the Moretti family’s best trauma surgeon and security detail away that night to stay with his old flame, Evelyn Langdon. She had just lost her husband. She was carrying his child. She said a nightmare had left her gasping for air.
I lost our baby in the emergency room. When I woke up, the first thing I saw was Evelyn’s new post.
[Some people don’t need to ask. He’ll still drop everything and come running. Thank you, A. You always know what I need most.]
In the photo, Adrian was kneeling by her bed, fastening the ruby necklace around her throat. The same necklace he had promised me for our tenth anniversary.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene.
I called Professor Clark.
“Professor, I’ll take the classified seat at the Artemis Northern Institute. Start the Black Ice Protocol. Wipe my public identity as soon as possible.”