Not a Love for Faint Hearts

But Zoey was still too slow. The needle missed.

Maxwell's face was like stone as he watched Zoey unravel. He turned his back on her, inspecting Nancy inside and out, checking her over four, five times until he was sure she was unharmed. Only then did he look back at Zoey, his eyes growing colder, sharper, deadlier.

"Zoey… are you out of your mind?!"

Zoey stared straight into his face, her voice squeezed out from between clenched teeth, her eyes bloodshot.

"She deserved it. She went after Callie!"

Maxwell scooped Nancy into his arms, shielding her.

"She just casually mentioned it. The one who stopped Callie's meds... was me. So why don't you try killing me?!"

Zoey stood there for a second, stunned... and then laughed. A laugh that sounded like broken glass, wet with tears.

'She casually mentioned it... and you stopped the meds. She casually mentioned it... and my child is dead. And somehow... she's innocent. Maxwell—how much do you love her? How far does it go?' Zoey thought hatefully.

Zoey surged forward, straight into his face, hatred burning so hot in her eyes it could set the world on fire.

"I hate her. I hate her, Maxwell. You better pray I never see her again in this lifetime. Because if I do... I'll kill her. Every time I see her, I'll kill her."

Maxwell's stare darkened, his lips pressed into a line so tight it was barely visible. He glanced down at Nancy, still sobbing in his arms.

Without another word, he turned and walked away.

The massive villa fell silent.

And then his voice echoed back. Low. Icy.

"Zoey... you're just like that mother of yours. Vicious. Rotten. If anything happens to Nancy... you die with her."

In the twenty-six years they'd known each other, the ten years they'd been married, Maxwell had never once mentioned her mother. Not even during their worst fights.

But now, for Nancy... he insulted her mother and struck her where it hurt the most.

Zoey collapsed to the floor, curling in on herself as small as she could. Her entire world caved in, shattered into dust.

Tears fell, one after another. Her voice, when it finally came, was thin, hollow, and full of despair.

"Why?" she whispered. "Maxwell... was it not enough? Was it not enough that I was willing to die for Nancy? Why did you have to take my child too? I gave you everything... everything I had, for that child. You knew that. So why... why were you still so cruel?"

She choked out every word, syllable by syllable, but Maxwell didn't even pause.

The only reply was a bodyguard's ice-cold voice.

"Mr. Porter said... you attempted to harm Ms. Westbrook. She was traumatized. Per family rules, you're to reflect on it in the freezer."

The moment the words dropped, two bodyguards lunged. They dragged her—kicking, clawing—straight toward the industrial cold storage.

Zoey clung to the half-knitted scarf in her arms, the yarn twisting and fraying.

Her eyes were vacant and bloodshot.

The cold hit her like knives, slicing through skin, muscle, straight to bone.

Her whole body trembled violently, her breath fogging up instantly, turning to frost in the air.

Minute after minute passed. Her heartbeat slowed... softer... quieter... until finally—

Her body gave out.

Darkness swallowed her whole.

When she opened her eyes again, Zoey was lying in a hospital bed.

The first thing she saw was Maxwell's bloodshot eyes, full of rage. He grabbed her by the collar, dragged her halfway up from the bed, and through clenched teeth growled, "Zoey... Don't even dream of dying that easily. I want you to suffer for the rest of your life."

Zoey lowered her head. A small broken laugh escaped her lips.

He didn't need to worry so much. She was already going to die anyway.