I Lost My Brilliance for Him, So I Found My Freedom in the Battlefield

My husband, August Carter, had an obsession with virgins.

When he sent his newest mistress, Wanda Yates, to me for yet another reconstruction surgery, he lifted my chin with a bank card. "Fix this one and this card is yours. Whether to save your mother or not is your choice."

Clutching my heavily pregnant belly, I walked into the operating room.

After five years of marriage, I had performed ninety-nine reconstruction surgeries for his mistresses. Each time, he had a reason to threaten me.

Just as I put on my gloves, my water broke and I urgently called for my colleagues.