When The Last Shot Is Fired
My mercenary fiancé, Jax, spent the entire weekend at Hollywood superstar Seraphina Hayes's Malibu beach house to protect her.
When he returned, marked with hickeys, he knelt before me with bloodshot eyes, pointed a gun at his own head, and confessed.
"Ellie, she set me up. I broke our vows. I deserve to die!"
Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through his left ear, leaving him deaf on that side for life.
My heart softened, and I chose to forgive him.
Nine months later, I was in a white dress, on my way to marry him.
That’s when the news broke. The superstar was pregnant. And she was on a rooftop, threatening to jump.
Once again, he knelt at my feet, a gun pointed at his head. "Ellie, just one last time, let me go save her."
"This time, I promise I'll end things with her for good."
After ten years of love, he thought my heart would soften again.
But my voice was steady when I spoke.
“Her, or me?” I asked. "If you choose her, we're done."