But she saw him hesitate, so she sneered, refusing to let go. “What’s wrong? You pity her now? Wasn’t it you who said you wished you could die in my arms?”
Grayson scoffed. “She’s my wife. If I don’t care about her, should I care about you?”
He then pulled on his shirt and turned to leave.
Alyssa’s eyes darkened with resentment. She grabbed him by the neck and bit his lips so hard he flinched.
He leaned back, muttering coldly, “What are you, a mad dog?”
“For you, I'm willing to be one,” she whispered.
Grayson’s face hardened. “You’re pregnant and still this wild? I swear, I could kill you right now.”
Alyssa laughed, proud and unbothered. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Shut up!” he roared.
I couldn’t listen anymore.
Pregnant? So, Alyssa’s womb wasn’t ruined after all.
Grayson lied to me.
My hand went to my stomach. Three months ago, she beat my baby to death. I could still feel the warmth of that blood on my palms.
I could still remember the rage in Grayson’s eyes that day.
“You killed my son,” he said, voice trembling with fury. “You’ll never bear a child again.”
Then he stabbed her eight times. When she was barely breathing, he stripped her naked and dumped her in Chicago’s largest slum.