Together We'd Rot in Hell

Muriel's POV

“Tell me, do you think all that blood you’ve spilled is enough to write an obituary for your bastard?”

Alaric’s dark eyes locked on me, unreadable.

A moment later, the knife clattered to the ground. He let out a laugh before turning and slapping one of his men across the face.

“You dare point a gun at my wife? Put it down!”

He then glanced at the wound on his arm, the gash deep enough to nearly expose bone, and lifted his gaze back to me.

“Have you vented enough? Muriel, we’re husband and wife, so I’ll let this go today. But next time you lose control, remember who you’re targeting.”

At that moment, the butler approached us with a tray. On it lay the embryo Janice had just lost.

I picked up the tray and smashed it against Alaric’s face. “Take your dog and your bastard, and get out.”

As such, he scooped Janice into his arms, his gaze dropping to my neck. Somewhere in the frenzy, I’d been too reckless, and the blade had left a thin red line across my skin.

He reached out to me, but I pulled away. “Some filthy diseases spread through the blood. Don’t contaminate me.”

He ignored my curse and mockery. But, still carrying Janice, he kicked over the cake I had spent a day and night making for our anniversary. The toppled figurines were also crushed beneath his heel as he walked out without looking back.

At the door, he paused just long enough to tell the butler, “Make sure her neck is treated. Don’t let water touch it, or it’ll get infected.”

I stared at the iron rod on the floor. In the end, Alaric hadn’t done it himself. That meant there was no future left for us.

That very night, on our wedding anniversary, Alaric made headlines. He sent out a fleet of helicopters, gathered top doctors from across the country, all for another woman’s injuries.

The giant screen replayed him cradling Janice as if she were something fragile, his eyes full of tenderness.

As the butler cleaned the wreckage of the living room, his voice trembled with anger. “Mr. Booth went too far this time. You built everything with him from the ground up and gave up so much for him. You even spent an entire day and night making that cake, and he just destroyed it all just for another woman.”

The mix of cream, red wine, and blood on the floor looked nauseating.

“It’s fine,” I said flatly. “Things that get dirty are meant to be thrown away anyway.”

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. A deliveryman stood outside, holding a grotesque bouquet made of used condoms. Trying not to gag, he handed me his phone. “The sender requires a video confirmation.”

I took the phone. On the screen, Janice grinned smugly.

“Do you like my gift? How does it feel to spend your anniversary alone? Don’t say I never pitied you. I sent you company. They even carry Alaric’s scent. Don’t be shy, my trash can’s full of them. By the way, thanks to the injuries you gave me, Alaric cares for me even more now. He swore he won’t let our baby die in vain and will make you pay the price.”

She then flipped through intimate photos of her and Alaric, showing them off with wild pride.

“Alaric said I’m his angel. Muriel, be smart and step aside. A mad dog like you only belongs in hell.”

Her words made me laugh. “An angel? That’s too bad. Because a so-called angel who only knows how to spread her legs could never carry the title of Mrs. Booth.”

When Alaric said I’d pay the price, he wasn’t bluffing.

A few days later, I slipped into my favorite dress and painted my face with my most flawless makeup. I was ready to go to the airport to welcome the one person I truly loved.

But before I could leave, the bodyguard called, panic in his voice.

“Ms. Feron, Mr. Booth just stormed in with his men and stole your rosary. He said he’s giving them to the mistress as a gift for leaving the hospital. We tried to stop him but we were beaten.”