Chapter 2

Laura didn't return home until noon the next day. As soon as she pushed open the front door, she saw Dexter sitting on the living room couch. Then, he jumped to his feet and rushed over, embracing her. "Laura, where have you been?" His voice was tight with panic, his hands clinging to her shoulders. "You weren't answering texts and wouldn't answer my calls. I waited all morning—I almost called the police!" Laura looked up at him. His brows were furrowed, his eyes full of worry. The concern in his gaze was so convincing, it made her question everything for a split second. He could have won an Oscar for that performance. Seeing that Laura remained silent, Dexter assumed she was still exasperated about the night before. He quickly pulled her to the couch, grabbed a cold compress, and pressed it to the swollen side of her face. "Does it still hurt?" His voice softened, filled with remorse. "I'm sorry. If I'd been in my primary state of mind, I never would've let Regina lay a hand on you." He sighed, brushing her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "The other personality comes out at night. I can't control it. Just don't come looking for me at night, okay? Rest at home." Laura's lips curved slightly, but there was no warmth in her expression. He wasn't worried about her getting hurt. He just didn't want her to interrupt his nights with Regina. She assured quietly, "Don't worry. I won't come looking for you again." Dexter visibly relaxed, thinking Laura had forgiven him. He reached out to help her to the bedroom, but pulled a folder from her purse and handed it to him. "Sign this." "What is it?" "Sale and purchase agreement," she lied, lowering her gaze to hide her expression. "I found a place that I like, but I just need your signature." Dexter didn't even glance at the contents. He grabbed a pen and signed on the dotted line. He even chuckled and ruffled her hair. "You must be starving. I'll cook something for you." He headed to the kitchen while Laura stared at the document in her hands—his signature on their divorce agreement. It caused her fingers to slightly tremble. Seven years of marriage? It was gone—just like that. He had signed the document without even reading, and now all she had to do was wait for the mandatory cooling period before she was a free woman. … Dexter made a table full of her favorite dishes. After eating them quietly, Laura went to bed without saying a word and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep. The sky outside was pitch black by the time she woke up. The space beside was empty, but her phone lit up with a message from Regina. "Mr. Gardner helped me take off my makeup and even dried my hair for me," she texted. "He said I look the hottest in black pantyhose. Too bad he tore them all to shreds." The photo that followed showed Dexter's fingers tangled in Regina's hair, his eyes filled with tenderness. It stabbed through Laura like a knife. She had bitten her lip so hard that the taste of blood filled her mouth. … Over the next few days, Dexter didn't return home. He only texted once, saying he was on a business trip. Laura didn't call him out on the lie. She just quietly packed her bags, preparing to leave for good. It was just past 3:00 am when she was jolted awake by someone shaking her. Groggy and disoriented, she blinked and found Dexter's face only inches from hers. For a split second, she thought she was dreaming. After all, ever since he had claimed to have "dissociative identity disorder" and that his nighttime personality only loved Regina, he hadn't come home at night—not once. "Get up. Come with me," he urged, already pulling the blanket off her. Laura finally registered that this wasn't a dream. Frowning, she sat up and asked, "What the hell are you doing?" "To the hospital," Dexter answered simply, dragging her out of bed without giving her a chance to argue. He grabbed her wrist and practically shoved her into the car. He drove recklessly, running at least a dozen red lights, until he skidded to a stop in front of a private hospital. … The red light above the operating room buzzed faintly, glowing ominously. Dexter yanked Laura toward a doctor standing outside the doors. Shaking off his grip, she demanded, her heart pounding, "What is this? What the hell is going on?" Her voice trembled. "Didn't you say your night personality only loves Regina? So, why are you dragging me here in the middle of the night?" Dexter stayed silent, his jaw clenched. The doctor stepped forward instead, explaining, "Ms. Bush is in critical condition from severe blood loss. She has a rare blood type, and we don't have any in the blood bank. Yours is a match—we need a donation." Laura froze. Her mind struggled to process what she had just heard. Then, she turned slowly to Dexter, her voice cracking with disbelief. "You woke me up at 3:00 am… just to give Regina blood?" "She's dying," came Dexter's cold reply. "You're the only one who can save her. We need 1,000 ml." "I'm not doing it." Laura turned on her heel. "I don't care what happens to her!" He grabbed her wrist again, his voice desperate now. "Please, Laur." The word slipped out instinctively. And at that moment, both of them froze.