Chapter 3

"Shut up!" Peter barked sharply as he took two steps forward. As he did, Melanie used the momentum to kick hard at Frost. Frost staggered back, almost falling again. She barely caught herself by gripping onto the doorframe. Pain bloomed hot and sharp in her abdomen. Her chest throbbed where the heel of that woman's shoe had left a dusty gray print. It was like a mark of humiliation, like a brand that summed up her entire marriage. It was rare for Peter to lose his composure. Too bad it was over a woman who worked in a dingy foot massage parlor. Frost had looked into it. Melanie wasn't anyone respectable. She was just someone who sold herself for money, yet she'd somehow managed to make Peter anxious, protective, and behave recklessly for her sake. And now, she was even acting all high and mighty in his house. Frost slowly lifted her head. Cold sweat slid into her eyes, blurring her vision. In her eyes, Peter's face turned into an unfamiliar shadow. He looked nothing like the man she had once fallen for. Perhaps they had both changed beyond recognition over the years. "Clean yourself up before you come downstairs. I married a lady, not a lunatic," he ordered flatly. Frost tilted her head and gave him a crooked smile. "Peter, why aren't you dead yet?" Then, she lunged, driving the utility knife in her palm straight toward him. For a long time, Peter didn't even process that he was stabbed a second time. It wasn't until his parents yanked Frost away from him in a panic that he finally came to. He stared blankly into her eyes and asked with an unsteady voice, "Do you really… want me dead?" Frost's eyes were bloodshot. The word "Yes" barely reached her lips when Martha screamed, "She… She's bleeding! She's bleeding a lot!" Everyone turned toward the direction she was pointing. Blood was spreading rapidly across Frost's dress, with the darkest stain pooling between her thighs. "Frost!" Ignoring his own wound, Peter shot up and pulled her into his arms, panic breaking through his composure for the first time. "What's happening? Hey… Get the car! Get a car ready! Now!" Frost's eyes had already lost focus. Her hand clutched the hallway railing with desperate strength. Her breath came in shallow wisps. "Guards… take me… to the hospital… Guards… Nanny… Anyone…" "I'll take you! You'll be fine. You'll be—" He tried to pry her fingers loose, but she wouldn't let go. "I don't believe you!" she suddenly screamed, her voice ragged and raw. "You're never this kind. You've never cared about me! You won't! Guards! Someone! Help me!" Only when the female bodyguard grabbed her hand did Frost finally relax and pass out. Peter ran with her in his arms all the way to the car, his hands trembling as he cradled her head. He was used to her fury, to her sharp tongue and cold defiance, but he had never seen her like this, so pale and fragile. Sweat and blood soaked her dress. She looked like she could shatter with the slightest touch. Peter pressed his cheek to her cold one, whispering over and over, "It's okay…" He wasn't sure if he was saying it to her or to himself. … When Frost woke up, it was already night. "Ms. Quinn, how are you feeling? Shall I call the doctor?" the female bodyguard, Devon Brown, asked, hurrying over. Only she and another male bodyguard were in the hospital room. "Where's Peter?" Frost's voice was barely above a whisper. "Ms. Johnson… was hospitalized too. Mr. Lynch went to her room about an hour ago." Devon hesitated, then added, "Your father called. I told him you were out with some girlfriends." "Well done." Frost reached for her phone. From her photo album, she pulled up an old video of her drinking at a bar and sent it to her father. Hopefully, that would be enough to make him think she was fine. When she backed out of the chat, she saw a new friend request notification from a user named Mel. The moment she accepted it, Mel sent a stream of photos. "The day I miscarried, Pete stayed by my bedside all night. He fell asleep like this." "When I called him crying, saying I couldn't handle losing the baby, he came right over to comfort me while still in his hospital gown." "Just now I said my stomach hurt again, and he's been feeding me polenta and peeling fruit. Ms. Quinn, do you know how good your husband is with a knife?" Frost stared at the photo of a perfectly spiraled fruit peel. It was thin, even, and elegant. No, that was something she never knew. "It's fine if you look down on me, Ms. Quinn. As long as Pete doesn't, that's enough for me. You almost died from all that bleeding. Poor thing. I'll be nice and let Pete come check on you, okay?" … A minute later, Peter walked into the room. He looked at Frost with an expression she couldn't read. Just then, the attending doctor entered. Peter turned to him. "Why did she bleed so much?" The doctor gave him a startled look.