A Vow Written in Blood

I struggled through the pain, but I could not move him at all. Blood spread beneath me, staining the carpet.

When I felt the child leave my body, I looked at him and forced out my last words.

"Connor… you'll never have another child in your life. You'll die alone. You'll be torn apart by dogs."

Only after I lost consciousness did he stop. Before stepping away, he said coldly, "I had Jamie stay at the dog training facility for another month. Every extra day he's there is because of you."

When I woke up, I was in bed. Someone had already changed my clothes.

The housekeeper sat beside me, wiping her tears. When she saw I was awake, she started talking, her voice trembling.

"Mr. Grant… how could he be so heartless? For that woman, he didn't even care if you lived or died.

"You two used to be so close. He even learned sign language for you. He always came home early just to spend time with you and Jamie. We all saw it. He used to be such a good man.

"But ever since his older brother passed… and that woman moved in… how did he become like this?"

She could not understand it. How someone could change so completely.

How a person could discard those they once cherished like they meant nothing?

I patted her hand, saying nothing more.

"The Grant family is about to fall apart. You should start looking for another place."

I went to Jamie's room.

I folded his clothes one by one. Packed his favorite toys carefully into a box.

Each item brought back his soft, childish voice calling me 'Mom.'

The tears would not stop. But there were no small hands left to wipe them away.

In the garden, I burned everything I had packed for him, speaking to him the entire time.

He had never heard my voice while he was alive. I did not know if he would recognize it now.

At some point, Connor came up behind me.

"You really are going all out with this act," he said coldly. "If you want a child that badly, I can give you another one. Stop putting on this disgusting show."

He grabbed me roughly and dragged me back into the bedroom, throwing me onto the bed.

His breath fell against my neck, making me sick. My whole body trembled.

I struggled desperately–striking at him, clawing at him–but he pinned my wrists down.

In the struggle, the wedding photo on the wall fell and hit him.

He winced and sat up, flipping the frame over. When he saw the photo–of us holding each other, smiling–he froze.

Something in it seemed to pull him away.

He slowly got off the bed, walked to the couch, and lit a cigarette.

I gathered my torn clothes and took out the divorce papers I had prepared long ago from the bedside drawer.

I placed them in front of him.

"Connor. Sign them. Let's divorce."

He looked up at me.

"Sienna, don't try to threaten me with divorce. Can you really leave me? You've heard the story of the boy who cried wolf. Use the same trick too many times, and it stops working.

"If I really sign this today, and you come crying back tomorrow, it'll be too late."

I ignored the mockery.

"Divorce me, and you can marry Camille properly. Whether I regret it tomorrow is my problem.

"Or what–don't you actually want a divorce? Or are you too afraid to sign?"

He let out a cold laugh.

"Who do you think you are? The Grant family has everything. If my family hadn't forced me to marry you back then, do you think you'd ever have married into this house?

"You've been in my bed for years. After you leave me, who would even want you?"

I did not respond. I only repeated, "Then sign it."

The mockery faded from his face.

He sat there, staring at me without moving.