Chapter 1 - THE KNIFE“If you ever put your hands on Selina again, I swear to God, I’ll kill you.”
Those were the last words my husband said before he stabbed me.
Twice.
My name was Mabel Vance.
I was twenty-eight years old, and for three years, I had been the wife of Flynn Vance, the man whose name opened doors in every boardroom in Boston.
Flynn was the CEO of Vance Global.
He was brilliant, ruthless, controlled.
And Selina Cole was the woman he had never stopped loving.
That afternoon, Selina appeared at our front door in tears.
Her mascara ran down her cheeks.
There was a red mark on her arm.
A tiny scratch.
“I didn’t want to come here,” she sobbed. “Mabel pushed me. She tried to hurt me.”
I stared at her.
“I never touched you.”
Flynn was standing beside the marble staircase.
In his hand was a small kitchen knife.
He looked at me.
“Did you hurt her?”
“No.”
“Mabel.”
“Flynn, listen to me. I never touched her.”
Selina covered her face.
“Please, Flynn. Don’t fight with her because of me.”
I saw something change in his eyes.
Not doubt.
Not confusion.
Certainty.
He believed her.
He had always believed her.
He stepped toward me.
“Apologize.”
“For what?”
“To Selina.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
“She walked into our house and accused me of attacking her.”
“She has no reason to lie.”
I almost laughed.
“No reason?”
Selina slowly looked up.
“You’re right,” she whispered. “I should leave.”
She turned toward the door.
I stepped after her.
That was when Flynn grabbed my arm.
“Don’t touch her.”
“I’m not touching her!”
He shoved me backward.
My hip struck the kitchen counter.
The knife flashed.
The first stab tore into my abdomen.
For half a second, I didn't understand.
Then came the pain.
Hot.
Blinding.
I looked down.
Blood spread across my white dress.
“Flynn…”
He stared at the knife in his hand.
For one heartbeat, I saw regret.
Then Selina screamed.
“He’s going to hurt me!”
Flynn turned toward her.
And stabbed me again.
I collapsed.
The ceiling spun above me.
I heard Selina crying.
I heard Flynn telling her everything would be okay.
I heard sirens.
Then nothing.
When I woke up, three days had passed.
My body felt like it belonged to someone else.
Dr. Marcus Reed stood beside my bed.
“You were very lucky.”
“Lucky?”
“You lost a dangerous amount of blood.”
I touched my abdomen.
There was a bandage beneath my hospital gown.
Then Dr. Reed looked toward the door.
His expression changed.
“Mabel, there’s something else.”
He placed a piece of paper on the bedside table.
It was an ultrasound.
Two tiny shapes floated inside a dark oval.
I stared at them.
My throat closed.
Dr. Reed spoke quietly.
“You were eight weeks pregnant when you came in.”
Flynn entered at that exact moment.
His face brightened when he saw me awake.
Then he looked at the ultrasound.
“What is that?”
Dr. Reed answered.
“Your wife was carrying twins.”
Flynn froze.
“Twins?”
“Both babies lost their heartbeats during emergency surgery.”
The bouquet of white roses slipped from Flynn’s hands.
They landed on the floor.
“No.”
His voice cracked.
“No…”
I closed my eyes.
A month earlier, I had stood outside Flynn’s office holding a positive pregnancy test.
I had wanted to surprise him.
But then I heard his voice through the closed door.
“Selina, you’ll always be the most important woman in my life.”
I had stood there in silence.
I had put the pregnancy test back into my purse.
I never told him.
And now he knew.
Too late.
Flynn came toward my bed.
“Mabel, please.”
I turned away.
“If I had known…”
I looked at him.
“You killed our children.”
“It was an accident.”
“You stabbed me twice.”
His face crumpled.
“I made a mistake.”
“No.”
My voice was weak.
But steady.
“You made a choice.”
He fell to his knees.
I looked at the man I had married.
And for the first time, I felt nothing.
No love.
No fear.
Only emptiness.
“I want a divorce.”
Flynn shook his head.
“No.”
“I’m not asking.”
He reached for my hand.
I pulled away.
“You chose her.”
He started crying.
But I didn't.
I had already cried enough.
Then Dr. Reed stepped forward.
“Mr. Vance, there is one more thing.”
Flynn looked up.
Dr. Reed picked up another document.
“The injuries your wife suffered weren't consistent with a simple kitchen accident.”
Flynn frowned.
“What are you saying?”
Dr. Reed looked directly at him.
“The angle of the second wound suggests she was already on the ground.”
Silence.
I slowly turned toward the doctor.
He continued.
“And there’s something else.”
“What?”
“The police recovered the knife.”
Flynn swallowed.
“So?”
Dr. Reed's expression hardened.
“It was wiped clean.”
My heart stopped.
Someone had cleaned the knife.
After the stabbing.
Someone had tried to erase the evidence.
And the person who did it wasn't me.
I looked at Flynn.
He looked at Selina.
For one brief second, neither of them spoke.
Then Selina whispered:
“Flynn…”
And I knew.
This was no longer just a story about jealousy.
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Someone had planned something.
And they were still inside my life.
