The night before I gave birth, I overheard my husband secretly offer the doctor $500,000 to make sure I died during delivery so he could start a new life with his five-month-pregnant mistress. I pretended to be asleep—but by the next day, his plan had completely backfired.

Should.

Not must.

Not protect her.

Not make sure nothing happens to her.

Should.

Dr. Hale asked,

“And if she isn’t?”

Daniel exhaled.

“One problem at a time.”

My eyes burned.

I stared at the darkness behind my closed eyelids.

One problem at a time.

That was how my husband described his wife and unborn child.

Problems.

Dr. Hale shifted.

I heard the faint sound of a chair moving.

“I need to think.”

“You’ve already thought.”

Daniel’s voice hardened.

“I know about the clinic debt.”

Silence.

“I know you’re in trouble.”

More silence.

“I’m offering you a way out.”

My pulse hammered.

So that was the leverage.

Money.

Debt.

Desperation.

Daniel had found a weakness.

He always had a talent for that.

He noticed what people wanted.

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