The moment I burst through the door, Faith was gripping a fruit knife. Her eyes met mine—cold, calculating—before she plunged the blade into her own abdomen.
"No!" I screamed.
John rushed in behind me as blood bloomed across the white sheets, staining them crimson.
Faith wept, collapsing into John's arms. She looked up at him, her expression the picture of selfless innocence.
"John, I truly love you. I felt so guilty that you've been married seven years without an heir... I just wanted to give you a child." Her voice trembled. "As a woman, I understand Michelle. She only treats me this way because she loves you too much."
She clutched his shirt, knuckles white. "The baby... even if I die, it doesn't matter. As long as you and she are happy. Promise me... don't punish her because of me..."
Having delivered her lines perfectly, she fainted on cue.
I stood there, trembling. "John, can you believe me just once?" My voice broke. "We've known each other for eleven years. You know who I am. You know I wouldn't—"
He didn't let me finish. He kicked me, hard.
I hit the floor, gasping.