Part 3Stolen Vows

I declined every call.

Five minutes later, the front door of the penthouse was kicked open with a thunderous crash.

Scott stood in the entryway, chest heaving violently.

He had run so fast that the wound in his side had ripped wide open, soaking half his shirt in a sickening sheet of red.

He didn't seem to notice the blood. He lunged across the living room like a madman, snatched the divorce papers off the counter, and tore them into confetti.

Still unsatisfied, he struck a lighter and watched the scraps burn to ash in the sink.

Only then did he turn to face me, his eyes wild and terrifyingly possessive.

"Summer, you know I would rather die than let you leave."

"You knew Scarlett tricked me into signing those papers."

"Why the hell did you sign them?!"

Before I could answer, he crossed the room and crashed his mouth against mine.

It was a violent, suffocating kiss, reeking of desperation and the metallic tang of blood.

I wrenched my face away, panting as a mocking laugh slipped past my lips.

"Right. You'd die before leaving me—but cheating on me was totally fine."

He froze.

"What, did you think I was so hopelessly in love with you that I’d swallow anything?"

Meeting my cold, derisive gaze, Scott’s ferocious posture crumbled.

He buried his face into the crook of my neck, inhaling shakily.

"I was wrong. Tell me what to do. What will it take for you to forgive me?"

"Make Scarlett get an abortion."

Scott didn't hesitate for a second. "Done."

"Cut all ties with her."

This time, he paused for a fraction of a second.

"...Done."

I didn't answer. I just chuckled quietly.

At the exact same moment, a shrill, hysterical wail erupted from the nightstand.

"Scott Sterling! You lying bastard!"

Scott’s face drained of color.

I pulled my phone out from beneath the throw pillow. The screen showed an active call, running for the past ten minutes.

His little mistress had heard every single word.

Through the speaker, Scarlett screamed through racking sobs:

"You're the one who threw away me and our baby! Don't you dare regret this!"

The call clicked dead.

Scott looked like he wanted to tear his hair out. Fury and panic warred in his expression.

He glared at me, swallowed his rage, shoved me away, and sprinted out the door.

By the time I tracked his phone’s GPS to a suspension bridge on the edge of the city, their melodramatic tragedy was already underway.

Shouting, weeping, violent shoving, desperate embraces.

The moment Scott spotted my car, his entire frame tensed. He stepped backward, positioning Scarlett firmly behind him.

"Summer, what else do you want?!" he snapped, his patience fraying. "Scarlett’s pregnancy is fragile. I'm warning you, don't push her over the edge!"

Scarlett suddenly lunged out from behind him.

Tears were streaming down her face, but her eyes glittered with manic determination.

She threw herself at me, her fingers digging into my coat as she hissed in my ear:

"A man's promises mean nothing."

"You don't listen to what they say, you watch what they do."

"I'm carrying his bloodline. Who do you think Scott chooses when it comes down to life and death?"

Before I could react, she locked her hands around my throat and threw us both over the railing.

The icy wind roared in my ears before the freezing river water swallowed us whole.

The shock was immediate—like a thousand needles stabbing into my skin at once.

Above the roar of the current, Scarlett’s panicked, screaming voice echoed:

"Scott! I'm carrying your child! Let's see if you have the guts to watch me drown!"

A heavy splash broke the surface. Scott had dived in.

He swam toward us like a frantic animal.

After a hesitation of barely two seconds, his arms wrapped securely around Scarlett.

"Summer, you're a champion swimmer, you can make it to shore on your own! Scarlett can't!"

Scarlett lay against his shoulder, looking back at me through the churning water with a venomous, triumphant smile.

She mouthed the words:

I won.

I smiled back at her through the dark water.

Maybe it's a win-win.

She blinked, confused.

I didn't call for help.

And I didn't swim toward the bank.

Scott was right: I was an exceptional swimmer.

And it had just occurred to me that if I couldn't leave him alive...

What about dying?

The sunlight filtered weakly through the icy current.

Watching the two figures tangled together, I allowed my body to sink deeper into the shadows.

Goodbye, Scott...

Just as I turned to kick toward the far downstream bank, the reflection above suddenly shifted.