He Saved the Side Chick

Tammy, who my husband Steven used to mentor, was in the car crash with me.

My liver had ruptured. I was drenched in blood. Steven didn't even flinch. He yanked Tammy out first, and she only had a scratch on her forehead.

While I was unconscious, barely hanging on, he was freaking out about her getting a scar.

When I came to, completely done, I chucked the divorce papers at his face.

He went feral—ripped them up and said I'd only leave him over his dead body.

I used to hate when he pulled that line. But now? If that's what it takes, so be it.

"Ugh..."

Blood filled my mouth. I turned, wincing, and locked eyes with Tammy Beech—crushed between the airbag and her seat.

"You cut my airbag on purpose."

She didn't deny it. Just smirked. "Bet you Steven saves me first—even with you bleeding out."

I curled around the pain in my gut, vision going fuzzy. Still tried to defend Steven Dicke.

"He's my husband. He wouldn't."

Tammy laughed like I'd told the world's dumbest joke.

Steven's panicked voice cut through the chaos outside.

"Tammy! Where are you?"

I cracked my eyes open just in time to see him sprint past my side and rip open the passenger door.

He grabbed her hand like a lifeline. "You'll be okay. I'm getting you to a hospital."

Tammy, barely scratched, got the royal treatment. He loaded her into the ambulance without even glancing my way.

Another wave of blood hit my tongue. I stared after them, a bitter laugh slipping out.

I was right there. Broken. Bleeding. But if Tammy was around, I was invisible.

As the ambulance disappeared, I let my eyes close. All the memories of Steven came crashing back.

I shut my eyes. Steven's face flashed through years of memories—high school, college, the wedding. I'd been chasing him forever.

He never said he loved me. Even the ring was just strategy.

I stopped fighting. Blood slid down my lips.

Maybe dying wouldn't be so bad. He'd be free. He could be with Tammy forever.

"How is this possible? Tammy was supposed to be seriously hurt."

"Ms. Beech just had a scratch. Honestly, if we'd waited a little longer, it might've healed on its own. Ms. Artego's liver ruptured. If some stranger hadn't brought her in, she wouldn't have made it. Had she gotten here sooner, we could've saved her liver."

I forced my eyes open—and there he was. Steven. Looking stunned.

The second he saw me awake, he latched onto my hand, voice shaking. "Bree, thank God. I thought I lost you.

"The doctor said you'll have some side effects, but nothing life-threatening. We got lucky. Oh, and Mr. Quandt's waiting on that rush design draft. If you could just—"

I yanked my hand back, face like ice. "A design? I almost died and that's what you bring up?"

He looked down, guilt flickering across his face. "No, I didn't mean it like that. I was panicking... rambling. I didn't see you. Your seat didn't have an airbag, so I thought someone already pulled you out..."

My lips pressed into a hard line. So he noticed the missing airbag—but not me?

A cold laugh slipped out. I stared him down as he crumbled.

"We're getting a divorce."