The Taste of Agony, Betrayal, and Revenge

On the day I was supposed to bring new life into the world, death knocked at my door—disguised as a psychopath.

I was already in labor, my body wracked with contractions when he stormed into my home. Trembling, I hid in the closet, clutching my swollen belly, and called my husband, Daniel Carter. A doctor. My protector—or so I thought. After dialing frantically five times, he finally answered. His voice, cold and impatient, grated through the phone:

"Sophia is hurt, and I'm treating her wound! Can you stop bothering me for no reason?"