Bleeding for the Husband Who Betrayed Me

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I stepped out, adjusting my surgical mask and pulling my scrub cap lower. This rural hospital was supposed to be a quiet assignment.

It was a temporary escape from the relentless city rush.

Instead, pure chaos greeted me at the front desk.

Somebody help her! You have to save my wife and my baby!

The voice froze the blood in my veins. I knew that voice. I had listened to it whisper promises in the dark for seven years. I had said "I do" to that voice.

I turned toward the triage desk. There he was. Nathan, my husband. But what?

He was supposed to be on a trip. It was our seventh anniversary tomorrow. He had kissed my forehead three days ago, packed his leather duffel, and promised to celebrate the second he returned. He told me he loved me.

Now, he stood in a rundown emergency room, pale with panic, demanding attention.

"Sir, please calm down," the triage nurse pleaded, typing frantically.

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Nathan roared. He slammed his fist against the counter. "I want the best doctor you have! Right now! Money is no object!"

I walked toward him. My heart hammered against my ribs, but my steps were steady.

I stopped exactly three feet away.

He turned. His eyes swept over my green scrubs, my surgical cap, and my plastic face shield. He didn't recognize me.

"Are you the surgeon?" he demanded. He grabbed my forearm. "You have to save them. My wife is in labor. Its too early. Please, you have to save my family."

My wife. My family.

The words hit me like a physical blow to the stomach. I swallowed the bitter bile rising in my throat. If I spoke, my voice would betray me. I simply nodded, pulled my arm from his forceful grasp, and pushed through the double doors into the operating room.

The harsh OR lights snapped me back into surgeon mode.

I approached the table where the anesthesiologist was prepping the patient.

I looked down at the woman writhing in agony on the table.

Victoria. Nathans young, ambitious personal assistant. The girl who always brought me coffee when I visited his office. The girl who smiled too brightly at his terrible jokes. The girl who called me "Mrs. Davis" with sickening sweetness.

She was heavily pregnant, her face slick with sweat, crying out in pain.

"Chart," I snapped. I held out my gloved hand.

The circulating nurse handed me the clipboard. Thirty-two weeks. Premature labor. Placental abruption. I read the cause of the trauma, documented from the patient's frantic confession upon admission.

Reckless, aggressive physical intimacy.

A bitter, dark laugh threatened to tear from my lips. My husband had literally screwed his mistress into premature labor. During her third trimester.

"Doctor, we need to move," the anesthesiologist warned. "Fetal heart rate is dropping fast."

"Scalpel," I ordered.

The cold steel was placed firmly in my hand. I made the first incision.

The OR doors swung open with a bang. Nathan burst in. He had bullied his way past the security and nurses, looking frantic in oversized, sterile scrubs.

"Victoria, baby, I'm here," he cried out. He rushed toward the head of the operating table.

I ignored him. I cut deeper with practiced, flawless precision.

"Oh my god," Nathan gasped.

I glanced up for a fraction of a second. Nathan was staring directly at the surgical field. His face turned a sickly, pale shade of gray. He swayed on his feet, his eyes rolling back.

"Get him a chair," I ordered the nurse.

But it was too late. Nathan collapsed, hitting the hard linoleum floor with a heavy thud. He fainted at the sight of blood. Typical. He always was a coward when things got messy.

"Leave him," I commanded when a nurse moved to help him. "Focus on the patient. He is not our priority."

My hands moved expertly. I clamped, cut, and suctioned. There was no room for error, no room for anger. I was saving a life. I reached in and gently pulled the infant free from the womb.

A tiny, weak cry filled the sterile room.

"Time of birth, 7:42 PM," I announced.

I handed my husband's illegitimate child to the waiting neonatal team. A boy. He had Nathan's nose. The betrayal stung anew, sharp and unforgiving, but I didn't flinch.

I turned back to Victoria to finish the surgery.

I stitched up the woman who had destroyed my marriage with the exact same care I gave every single patient.

An hour later, I stepped out of the OR. I stripped off my bloody gloves and mask, tossing them into the biohazard bin. Exhaustion weighed down my bones. My marriage was over. My entire life was a lie.

Before I could even process the heavy grief, a shrill, demanding voice echoed down the quiet hallway.

"Where is my grandson? Where is my son?"

I looked up. Nicole. My mother-in-law. She was marching down the corridor, her designer handbag swinging aggressively. She was screaming at a bewildered triage nurse.

"Ma'am, you can't be back here," the nurse said, trying to block her path.

"Do you know who I am?" Nicole shrieked. "My son, Nathan, is here! His wife just had my grandson! I demand to see them immediately!"

I froze. Wife. Grandson.

Nicole spotted me. She didn't look surprised to see me at this rural hospital. She looked annoyed.

"Candice," she snapped, marching right up to me. "What are you doing standing around? Did you deliver the baby? Is my grandson okay?"

"You knew," I whispered. My voice was hoarse, raw with shock.

Nicole rolled her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking at me with pure disdain. "Oh, grow up, Candice. Of course I knew. Nathan needs an heir. Youve been too busy playing doctor in these middle-of-nowhere hospitals to give him one. Victoria is young. Shes fertile. Shes giving this family exactly what it deserves."

The floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet. It wasn't just Nathan. The entire family had plotted this. They had smiled in my face, eaten at my dining table, and celebrated my anniversaries, all while hiding Victoria and her growing belly.

"Nathan is resting," Nicole continued, completely unfazed by my devastation. "He was so worried about Victoria. He truly loves her, you know. You should probably pack your things before he gets home. It will just be easier for everyone."

She turned on her heel and demanded the nurse take her to the NICU.

I stood alone in the sterile hallway.

"Incompetent fools!"

Nicoles shrill voice echoed from the direction of the NICU. She came storming back down the corridor.

"My grandson is in a plastic box with tubes down his throat!" she screamed at a terrified young nurse trailing behind her. "This hospital is an absolute disgrace! The butcher who performed that surgery probably damaged him!"

"Ma'am, the baby is only thirty-two weeks," the nurse stammered, backing away. "The doctor saved his life"

"Don't you dare talk back to me!" Nicole shrieked.

An elderly woman, leaning heavily on a silver walker, was slowly making her way down the hall. Startled by Nicole's sudden, violent outburst, the woman froze, her walker clattering loudly against the wall.

"Move out of my way, you old bat!" Nicole snapped. She raised her heavy designer handbag, ready to shove the frail woman aside.

Instinct overrode my devastation. I rushed forward, stepping squarely between the terrified patient and my raging mother-in-law.

"Back away from her," I ordered. "You are completely out of control."

"How dare you speak to me!" she spat. "You are nothing!"

Before I could brace myself, Nicole lunged. She planted both of her manicured hands firmly on my chest and shoved me with all her strength.

The sheer force caught me off guard. My rubber-soled shoes slipped on the freshly waxed linoleum.

I flew backward, my arms flailing wildly for a handhold that simply wasn't there.

I hit the ground hard.

My lower back slammed brutally against the sharp metal edge of a crash cart before I crumpled to the floor.

A blinding, white-hot pain ripped through my lower abdomen. It was a sharp, tearing agony that instantly stole the breath from my burning lungs.

I gasped, curling into a tight, defensive ball on the freezing tiles.

Then, I felt it. A warm, terrifying trickle of liquid pooling between my thighs. Blood.

"Mom! What is going on?"

Nathan. He rushed down the hallway, his face pale, still wearing the oversized scrubs from his pathetic fainting spell in the OR.

"This... this quack is assaulting me!" Nicole lied smoothly, pointing an accusatory finger at my crumpled, agonizing form. "She ruined Victoria's delivery and now she's physically attacking the patients' families! Call security!"

Nathan didn't hesitate. He never did when it came to his mother. He marched over to me, completely ignoring my desperate, breathless gasps of pain.

He grabbed my upper arm. His fingers dug into my flesh like iron vices. He yanked me upward, his grip bruising and merciless.

"Apologize to my mother right now," Nathan demanded, his voice dripping with arrogant venom. "You incompetent hack. You almost killed the mother of my child, and now you're harassing my mother? I will end your pathetic career."

I couldn't speak. The pain was too intense. The blood was soaking through my green scrub pants, warm and sticky against my skin.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Nathan roared.

In his blind fury, he reached out and violently ripped the surgical mask and cap from my head.

My dark hair tumbled down around my shoulders. I forced my heavy eyes open, meeting his furious, self-righteous gaze.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Nathan froze. The color completely drained from his face, leaving him looking like a terrified ghost. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His brutal grip on my arm loosened, his fingers going entirely slack.

Behind him, Nicole gasped loudly. Her expensive handbag slipped from her grasp, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

She had recognized me earlier, but seeing me broken and bleeding at her own hands finally pierced her wicked delusion.

"Candice?" Nathan whispered. His voice was a fragile, broken thread. "What... what are you doing here?"

He looked at my pale face, then down at my scrubs. His eyes widened in absolute, unadulterated horror as he finally registered the massive, spreading pool of crimson blood on the floor beneath me.

"Candice, you're bleeding," he stammered. He took a step back, his hands shaking violently.

I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to tell him that I delivered his bastard child. I wanted to tell him that I knew everything about his filthy lies.

But the pain flared again, sharper and more vicious than before. The edges of my vision began to blur, turning black and fuzzy. The sterile hospital lights above me spun wildly out of control.

"Help her!" Nathan suddenly screamed, panic finally breaking through his thick skull. "Somebody help my wife!"

His pathetic words faded into a distant echo. The darkness rushed in, swallowing the pain, the betrayal, and the sight of my husband's terrified face. I collapsed completely, letting the void take me.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The rhythmic sound of a heart monitor pulled me from the heavy, suffocating darkness.

I forced my heavy eyelids open. The harsh fluorescent lights blinded me for a moment. I blinked, trying to clear my blurry vision. I was in a recovery room. The familiar smell of antiseptic and clean linens surrounded me.

My body felt incredibly heavy, anchored to the bed by a profound, hollow ache in my lower abdomen.

I turned my head slowly.

Sarah, my closest colleague and the head of the OB-GYN department, was sitting in the chair beside my bed. She was clutching my hand tightly between both of hers.

Tears were streaming down her face, leaving shiny tracks on her cheeks.

"Sarah?" I croaked. My throat was dry and scratchy. "What... what happened?"

Sarah choked back a sob. She squeezed my hand, her eyes filled with a devastating, unbearable sorrow.

"Candice, I am so, so sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Panic spiked in my chest. "What is it? Am I injured? The fall..."

"You were bleeding heavily when they brought you in," Sarah explained, her voice trembling. She took a shaky breath, struggling to get the words out. "We did an ultrasound immediately. Candice... you were pregnant."

The world stopped spinning. The air vanished from the room.

"Pregnant?" I echoed. The word sounded foreign, impossible. "No. That's impossible. Nathan and I... we tried for seven years. I'm barren. The specialists said..."

"The specialists were wrong," Sarah cried, tears falling freely now. "You were exactly eight weeks along. It was a miracle baby, Candice. A perfectly healthy, growing little miracle."

My free hand drifted down to my stomach. It was flat. Empty. The hollow ache suddenly made terrifying, agonizing sense.

"Was?" I whispered. The word tasted like ash in my mouth.

Sarah let out a heartbreaking sob and bowed her head. "The trauma from the fall. The violent impact. It caused a severe placental abruption. We tried everything, Candice. We rushed you into emergency surgery, but the damage was too extensive."

She looked up at me, her eyes reflecting my own shattered soul.

"You lost the baby, Candice. I'm so sorry. You miscarried."

A deafening roar filled my ears. It was the sound of my entire universe collapsing into dust.

Before the tears could even begin to fall, the heavy wooden door flew open.

Nathan burst into the room. He looked disheveled. He rushed to my bedside, reaching for my hand. I yanked it away, as if his skin burned mine.

"Candice, honey, please," he begged. "You have to listen to me. This isn't what it looks like. I swear to you."

I stared at him, my expression completely dead. "You screwed your assistant into premature labor, Nathan. What exactly does it look like?"

He swallowed hard, shaking his head in a frantic rhythm. "No! You don't understand. I did this for us, for our future."

"For us?" I echoed.

"Yes!" Nathan leaned in, his eyes pleading with a sickening sincerity. "I knew how depressed you were. Seven years, Candice. Seven years of negative tests, fertility treatments, and crying on the bathroom floor. I couldn't watch you suffer anymore. I knew you thought you were completely barren."

He took a shaky breath, attempting to look like a martyr. "So, I made an arrangement with Victoria. She agreed to be a surrogate. I was going to surprise you tomorrow for our anniversary. I was going to bring you a baby, Candice. The baby you always wanted."

"A surrogate," I repeated flatly, letting the word hang in the tense air. "You expect me to believe you accidentally got your young assistant pregnant through traditional, aggressive intercourse, hid her from me for eight months, and planned to wrap a newborn in a bow for our anniversary?"

"It was the only way!" he insisted. "Clinics are so clinical, so expensive and complicated. I just wanted to give you a family! I love you!"

"You're a liar, Nathan," I said. "You're a pathetic, cowardly liar."

Before he could spin another sickening excuse, the door swung open again. Nicole marched in.

She glanced at my pale face, then rolled her eyes dramatically. "Oh, stop being so dramatic, Candice. I heard the nurses gossiping at the station. So you lost a pregnancy. Big deal. It happens every day."

Nathan flinched slightly, but he didn't dare correct his mother. He never did.

Nicole crossed her arms over her chest, "Honestly, you should be thanking us. Your body is clearly useless. You couldn't hold onto a baby if your life depended on it. Victoria is giving this family a strong, healthy heir. You should be grateful we're even letting you stay in the picture to help raise him. You get to be a mother without doing any of the hard work."

The crushing grief that had been suffocating me suddenly evaporated. It was instantly replaced by a cold, sharp clarity.

Instead, I smiled. It was a slow, icy smile that made Nathan take a nervous step back.

"Grateful," I whispered. I pulled my phone out from under the blanket and held it up. I tapped the screen, stopping the recording, and made sure the file was saved to the cloud. "That's a very interesting choice of words, Nicole."

"What are you doing?" Nathan demanded.

"Securing my future," I replied smoothly. "And ending yours."

I looked directly into my mother-in-law's arrogant eyes. "You shoved me, Nicole. You violently assaulted a doctor in a hospital hallway. And in doing so, you killed my eight-week-old baby."

"It was an accident!" she scoffed, waving her hand dismissively, though a flicker of doubt crossed her face. "You tripped over your own feet."

"The security cameras in the hallway will say otherwise," I said, my smile widening into something lethal. "And so will the police."

"The police? Don't be ridiculous. I am a respected member of this community."

Right on cue, the heavy door to my recovery room opened wide. Two uniformed police officers stepped inside, their expressions grim and strictly professional.

"Nicole Davis?" the taller officer asked, his hand resting casually on his utility belt.

Nicole turned, her face instantly draining of color. "Yes? What is the meaning of this intrusion?"

"Ma'am, you are under arrest for aggravated assault causing the loss of an unborn child," the officer stated clearly. He pulled a pair of heavy silver handcuffs from his belt.

"What? No!" Nicole shrieked, backing away until she hit the wall. "She's lying! I didn't do anything! Nathan, do something!"

Nathan stood completely frozen.

The sharp, metallic click of the handcuffs echoed loudly in the small room.

"Get your hands off me! Do you know who I am? I will sue this entire city!" Nicole screamed at the top of her lungs, kicking wildly as the officers dragged her toward the door.

I watched her go, a cold, dark satisfaction settling deep in my chest.

But the chaos wasn't over.

Just as the officers dragged a thrashing, screaming Nicole into the hallway, a frantic OR nurse shoved past them, nearly knocking Nathan to the floor. Her green scrubs were covered in fresh, bright red blood.

"Dr. Davis!" the nurse yelled, her eyes wide with sheer, unadulterated terror. "Its Victoria! You have to come back to the OR right now!"

Nathan spun around, his face turning a sickly, terrifying shade of gray. "What? What's wrong with her?"

The nurse looked directly at me, her voice trembling with absolute panic. "She's hemorrhaging severely. We can't stop the bleeding. If you don't intervene immediately, she's going to die."

A few hours ago, I would have sprinted down the hall. I would have pushed past the pain, put my medical oath first, and done everything in my power to save a human life.

But my heart was dead.

"No," I said.

"What did you just say?" Nathan demanded.

I slowly sat up on the edge of the hospital bed. A sharp, agonizing cramp tore through my lower abdomen, a brutal reminder of the child I had just lost.

I looked directly into the eyes of the man I had loved for seven years, feeling absolutely nothing but disgust.

"I said no, Nathan."

"You get up right now!" he roared, pointing a shaking finger toward the door. "You get back in that operating room and you fix her! She is the mother of my child!"

"And your mother is the murderer of mine," I shot back. "Your mother shoved me to the floor. She killed my baby. Our baby, Nathan. The one I carried for eight weeks while you were busy screwing your assistant."

"That was an accident," he snapped coldly. "This is life or death. You took an oath, Candice. You are a doctor. You have to save Victoria."

I stood up. My legs trembled, but I locked my knees. I reached up and unclipped my hospital badge from my collar. I tossed it onto the floor at his feet.

Then, I grabbed the hem of my bloody scrub top and pulled it over my head, leaving me in just my black tank top and scrub pants.

I threw the bloody shirt directly at his chest. He batted it away, his eyes wide with shock.

"I am off the clock," I stated, my tone absolute. "I am no longer your wife. And I am certainly no longer her doctor. Let her bleed."

I turned my back on him. I walked to the small locker in the corner of the room and pulled out my leather duffel bag. I started shoving my street clothes and shoes inside.

"You can't do this!" Nathan shouted, following me across the room. He grabbed my shoulder, but I violently shoved his hand away. "If you walk out that door, I will ruin you, Candice! I will call the medical board. I will have your license revoked. You will never practice medicine again!"

"Try it," I challenged, zipping my bag shut with a sharp yank. "I have the recording of your confession. I have the security footage of your mother assaulting me. You have nothing but a dying mistress and a mother in handcuffs."

"Victoria is innocent in this!" he yelled. "She didn't do anything to you! She is my family now. I will save my family at any cost, do you hear me? I don't need you! I will find someone else to save her!"

"Then go find them," I said coldly.

I slung the heavy duffel bag over my shoulder.

Nathan rushed out of my room and sprinted toward the OR, shouting orders at the staff, vowing loudly that he would not let Victoria die.

I didn't look back. I turned my back on the flashing lights, the screaming monitors, and the frantic medical staff. I turned my back on my marriage.

I walked down the long, sterile hallway.

The exit was only fifty feet away. Forty feet. Thirty.

Suddenly, a piercing, high-pitched alarm shattered the chaotic noise of the hospital.

It wasn't coming from the adult operating rooms. It was coming from the opposite direction.

The NICU.

The shrill, rhythmic blaring echoed off the walls, signaling a catastrophic emergency.

I froze in my tracks, my medical instincts warring with my desperate need to flee.

The heavy double doors of the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit burst open.

A frantic pediatric nurse sprinted out into the hallway, her face pale with sheer, unadulterated terror.

She looked wildly around the corridor, her eyes wide and desperate.

"We need help!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "The premature baby boy is crashing! His organs are failing rapidly! He needs a specific, rare blood type immediately to survive, or he won't make it through the hour!"

"Dr. Davis! Please!"

The pediatric nurses voice cracked, echoing down the corridor. I didn't turn around.

I pushed my hand against the automatic door sensor.

"He has a rare blood disorder!" the nurse screamed. "He needs an immediate O-negative transfusion! The blood bank is empty! We need a donor right now!"

The doors slid open. The cold wind hit my face.

"Test me!" I heard Nathan roar from down the hall. "I'm his father! Test Victoria!"

"We already checked your files," the nurse cried frantically. "You are A-positive. Victoria is AB-positive. Neither of you is a match. The baby will reject your blood and die."

I stepped out into the freezing night.

"Who is a match?" Nathan demanded. His voice was laced with a terrifying, desperate panic.

"The only person on staff with the exact universal donor profile we need... It's Dr. Candice Davis."

Silence fell over the hallway behind me. I didn't wait. I gripped the strap of my duffel bag and broke into a painful, staggering run toward the parking lot.

The parking lot was a sprawling expanse of cracked asphalt, bathed in the sickly yellow glow of flickering streetlamps.

Every step sent a jagged spike of agony through my lower abdomen.

My body was still traumatized from the miscarriage. But adrenaline fueled my desperate flight.

My car was parked in the furthest row, hidden beneath an oak tree. I pulled my keys from my pocket. My fingers trembled violently. I pressed the unlock button. The headlights flashed.

I reached for the door handle.

A massive hand clamped brutally over my mouth.

I didn't have time to scream. A muscular arm wrapped around my waist, pinning my arms. The suffocating scent of cheap cologne invaded my senses. It was a hired thug.

I thrashed wildly, but the blood loss and crushing grief had drained my strength. The man tightened his grip, lifting me off the ground.

"Stop fighting," a cold voice commanded.

Nathan stepped out from the shadows. He wore his tailored wool coat. He looked like a predator who had just cornered his prey.

"Let her go," Nathan ordered.

The man dropped me. I hit the freezing asphalt hard. I gasped for air, scrambling backward against my car door.

"This is kidnapping," I choked out. "You won't get away with this."

Nathan crouched down, his eyes devoid of human emotion. "My mother made a mistake. She accidentally caused your miscarriage. It was a tragedy, Candice. But because of that tragedy, you no longer have a child to care for. You owe my family. My mother took your baby. So, you are going to ensure my son survives. You are going to give him your blood."

"I will never give you anything," I spat. "I would rather die."

Nathans eyes darkened. "That can be arranged."

He nodded to the thug. The man grabbed my shoulder, pinning me against the car. Nathan plunged a syringe directly into my neck.

"Sweet dreams," Nathan whispered.

The world tilted. The streetlamps blurred. My body went completely limp, swallowed by a heavy, suffocating darkness.

My head throbbed with a sickening pulse. I forced my eyes open. The harsh glare of a bare bulb assaulted my vision.

I wasn't in the hospital. I was sitting in a cold, rigid metal chair. The air smelled strongly of mildew and damp concrete. It was an abandoned storage facility.

I tried to move, but panic spiked through my sluggish veins. Thick leather straps bound my wrists tightly to the metal armrests. My ankles were secured. I was completely immobilized.

"She's awake."

Nathan stepped into the light. He looked down at me with a triumphant smirk. Beside him stood a gaunt man wearing a dirty lab coat.

The unlicensed doctor held a thick-gauge needle attached to a clear plastic tube and an empty blood collection bag.

"Did you really think you could just walk away from me, Candice?" Nathan asked softly.

I couldn't speak. My throat was paralyzed with terror.

"Take it all," Nathan ordered the doctor. "Drain her."

I watched in absolute horror as the doctor plunged the thick needle into my vein. A sharp gasp escaped my lips.

The dark red bloodmy blood, the blood that was supposed to nourish my own unborn childflowed rapidly through the tubing.

"You're insane," I gasped, struggling uselessly against the restraints. "You will go to prison."

"This is survival," Nathan countered, stepping closer. "You were always so stubborn, Candice. So independent. You thought you could just leave us to burn. But Victoria and I are going to have a beautiful, perfect life together with our son. You were never anything more than a disposable stepping stone."

The doctor didn't stop at one bag. He took two. Then three.

My vision began to tunnel. The edges of the dirty room turned black. My heart fluttered erratically, struggling to pump the remaining blood through my depleted body.

A bone-deep chill settled over my entire being. I was fading.

"That's enough," Nathan finally ordered. "We have what we need. Get it to the hospital immediately. Pay off whoever you need to."

The thug grabbed the cooler filled with my blood and vanished into the shadows.

Nathan stood alone with me. The silence in the room was deafening. He looked at my pale, trembling form.

The triumphant smirk slowly faded from his lips, replaced by a cold, calculating glare.

Nathan unbuckled the heavy leather restraints. I slumped forward instantly, far too weak to lift my head.

He grabbed me roughly by the hair, hauling me to my feet. My legs gave out, but he dragged me effortlessly, his arm wrapped tightly around my throat.

We moved outside into the freezing night. The roaring, violent sound of rushing water filled my ears.

He dragged my nearly unconscious body through the dead grass. We reached the edge of an old, rusted suspension bridge on the outskirts of town.

The river below was a violent, churning black abyss, waiting to swallow secrets whole.

I couldn't fight back. I couldn't even scream. I could only feel the icy wind slicing through my thin clothes.

Nathan pushed me against the freezing iron railing. He leaned in close, his breath hot against my cheek.

"I love Victoria," Nathan whispered cruelly in my ear. "I always have. You are nothing to me."

He didn't hesitate.

With a violent, forceful shove, Nathan pushed me over the iron railing.