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Love Fades at Dusk Novel Cover

Love Fades at Dusk

On the night of their seventh wedding anniversary, a wife is left alone when her husband rushes to assist his childhood sweetheart, Vivian Duffy, with a supposed emergency. The betrayal deepens when Vivian shares a provocative social media post featuring suggestive items and a gloating caption about her "Superman." Faced with blatant infidelity, the protagonist refuses to be a victim. She makes a calculated call to a different man, inviting him over for his own repair job.
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Chapter 3

Daniel sank back, sneering, "Just her petty tricks. If she wants to play victim, let her."

Pain seared like ants devouring my flesh. I poured cold water over the burn, biting back screams.

Daniel was unmoved. The man who had once panicked over a paper cut on my finger was gone, replaced by a stranger.

...

I limped out of the kitchen and placed the bisque on the table.

Vivian beamed triumphantly. "Thanks for cooking through all that pain for me and the baby. Daniel, let's dig in."

Ignoring their cozy display, I hobbled to the guest room, agony pulsing with each step, and searched for the medical kit.

Daniel burst in, holding it. He frowned at my blistered, bruised leg. "Sit. I'll treat it."

I tried to refuse, but he pressed me down on the bed, his touch surprisingly gentle as he applied ointment.

His eyes flickered with concern, but he had caused this pain, giving me hope only to crush it again.

The pitiful act now felt hollow.

I gritted my teeth, fighting tears as the pain pulsed.

He wiped my cheeks gently. "Look at you, crying like a kid. Still can't stand the pain?"

His breath assailed me as he cooed, "Let's not fight, okay?"

I struggled, trying to push him away, but it was useless.

I hadn't done anything wrong. I was just unwilling to take care of Vivian and her child.

His scent, so familiar, pulled me back to the boy who'd once shielded me from my abusive family, promising I'd never hurt again.

Now he was the source of my agony.

...

Vivian's wails shattered the moment.

Daniel shoved me aside. My wound was caught on the bed, pain whitening my face.

Vivian lay weakly in his arms. The bisque bowl lay shattered, the soup pooling on the floor.

"I know you hate me and the baby," she sobbed, glaring at me. "But how could you poison the bisque to hurt us?"

I started to deny it, but Daniel's suspicious gaze stopped me.

He didn't trust me.

Exhaustion washed over me. Arguing felt futile.

"I didn't poison anything," I said flatly.

Vivian clutched his sleeve. "That bisque was all I had today. I don't blame her for hating me, but I won't let her harm our child."

An ambulance arrived swiftly.

Daniel scooped her up, grabbing the shattered bowl as evidence, and rushed out.

I collapsed, laughing hysterically until tears fell.

That afternoon, his bodyguards dragged me to the hospital. Daniel stood outside Vivian's room, where she lay pale.

They tugged me along and shoved me to the floor, ignoring my blisters that ruptured.

The pus flowed like punishment, trickling down my wounds.

I screamed, but Daniel was unmoved, lighting a cigarette. The smoke swirled around him, blurring his face.

"Tests came back. The bisque had abortifacients," he said.

"That's impossible," I protested.

He snapped, "Still lying at this point? I never thought you'd stoop to such viciousness."

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