My husband walked into our divorce hearing with his mistress on his arm, convinced he had already destroyed my life. He smiled and said, “The company, the house, the cars... they're all mine now. You'll be begging on the streets.” I didn't argue. I simply took off my coat, revealing the scars he thought money had buried forever, and in that instant, the entire courtroom forgot it was watching a divorce.

I woke up in a sterile white hospital room entirely surrounded by beeping machines and frantic federal doctors.

Agent Carter was pacing nervously near the large window, his expression incredibly grim and utterly exhausted.

He told me that the toxicology report confirmed a lethal, unknown synthetic compound was spreading aggressively through my bloodstream.

The brilliant doctors had absolutely no idea how to synthesize an antidote because the compound was entirely unique to Jason's private lab.

The burning sensation in my scars had dulled slightly to a deep, constant, and agonizing ache.

I looked at Carter and told him about the threatening text message demanding the immediate return of the stolen money.

Carter warned me sternly that negotiating with a domestic terrorist was strictly against federal law and agency protocol.

I looked him dead in the eye and stated that I was not going to die simply for the sake of his protocol.

I demanded that he use his authority to arrange a face-to-face meeting with Jason at the high-security detention center.

Carter reluctantly agreed, knowing it was the only possible way to find out where the hidden antidote was located.

Two hours later, I sat in a freezing cold interrogation room across a metal table from my monster of a husband.

Jason wore a bright orange prison jumpsuit, but he still looked at me with an air of absolute superiority.

He noticed my pale, sweating skin and smiled cruelly, asking how my beautiful scars were feeling today.

I slammed my fist on the table and told him I would transfer the money back to his account in exchange for the cure.

Jason laughed loudly and leaned forward, the heavy steel chains on his wrists rattling loudly against the metal table.

He said he didn't care about the money anymore, because watching me suffer slowly was much more valuable to him.

He told me the only existing vial of the antidote was hidden in a highly secure place I would never be able to access.

I begged him to tell me exactly what he wanted me to do to save my own life.

The Billionaire Put On a Waiter’s Apron to Test His Fiancée, but the Wom...

My father bet twenty dollars that I would walk through his front door al...

My Husband Slapped Me Out of His House for His Mistress, Then the Most F...

Jason leaned back and demanded that I sign a full public confession stating I orchestrated the entire corporate fraud.

Before I could even process his demand, the interrogation room door opened, and Daniel walked in carrying a silver briefcase.

Chapter 5 - The Devil's Bargain