Chapter 1 Use Your Head

Cressida Ashworth had spent three years groveling after Luther Strudwick.

The first year, he forced strong liquor into her and left her kneeling outside a bar till dawn. She nearly died of a gastric hemorrhage.

The second year, he pawned her off on a business partner who'd been harassing her, saying he was done with her and that the sight of her made him sick.

The third year, he told her he wished she'd just drop dead on the spot.

She knew he hated her and didn't take the remark to heart. She'd heard worse.

Still, Cressida hadn't expected Luther's words to prove prophetic. The second she stepped out, she was abducted at knifepoint.

The abductor flung a phone at her feet. "Call your husband now. Tell him to show up with 30 million dollars, or you're not walking out of here alive."

Cressida shivered. She struggled to pick up the phone and punched in the number she knew by heart. It rang and rang before the call finally went through.

"What is it?" Luther drawled, lazy as ever.

She trembled with pain. "Luther, please. Help me. I've been abducted…"

The background on his end was loud, filled with laughter and chatter.

"Luther, what stunt is Cressida pulling this time to get you to go home?"

"Nat flies back today. Imagine how upset she'll be if you bail now."

Cressida's heart sank.

A beat later, Luther let out a cold scoff. "She said she's been abducted. What a joke. When will she ever use her head? Cressida, stop wasting my time. I'm hosting a welcome dinner for Nat today, and I'm not about to humor your lousy lies."

Cressida was shaking even harder now. "No! I'm not lying! I really am being held. The abductor wants 30 million dollars, or he'll kill me!"

But Luther only sounded even more derisive. "Wouldn't that be just perfect? You should've been dead ages ago. I ought to thank him if he actually kills you.

"You could drop dead at my feet this second, and I'd still feel nothing but disgust. Don't bother me again. Get lost and stay out."

He ended the call. All she got was that cold, repetitive beep in her ear.

Cressida looked up into the abductor's eyes. They held a vicious, mocking gleam.

"I gave you a chance. You're the one who couldn't hack it. So don't blame me for being ruthless," the abductor said.

He jammed the blade into her eye socket. The white-hot pain ripped a scream out of her. Then he tore out her tongue. Blood flooded her throat, choking her until even breathing was a fight.

He slashed her face 32 times, then cut the tendons at her wrists and ankles. Her abdomen was left in ruin, and the assault didn't stop.

It was the kind of pain that made death feel like mercy.

Time smeared into nothing. Eventually, Cressida blacked out.

In her last moments, she had only two thoughts. She never should have married Luther or gone back to the Ashworths. She should've stayed with her grandmother, Daphne Sheppard.

Now that she was dead, who would look after Daphne?

But just before her eyes closed, Cressida heard a sigh.

"You're not meant to die yet. I'll give you three more months. Should Luther speak the words 'I love you,' you shall live again. If he doesn't, I'll have to send you to the afterlife."

…

"Cressida, what the hell are you up to now?"

A savage kick at the door snapped Cressida awake. She could still feel the searing pain lingering in her body.

Hadn't she died already? The abductor's last stab went into her chest and cut her heart clean out.

She looked around and saw another "her" sprawled in a pool of blood. The warehouse floor was nearly covered in it. The body lay like a tossed-aside rag doll, her face ruined beyond recognition.

The voice from the brink of death flashed back, and Cressida dug her nails into her palm.

She'd been brought back from the dead, but only for three months. She'd still die unless Luther said he loved her.

There was no time to think. She hauled her own corpse and shoved it into that abandoned freezer in the warehouse corner. If anyone caught her with her own body, there'd be no explaining it.

There was no time to clean up the blood. She was still scrambling for a fix when the heavy metal door crashed open under a kick.

Chapter 2 My Greatest Regret

Luther strode in. His gaze faltered for an instant at the sight of blood spread across the floor. But as soon as he caught sight of Cressida in the corner, his face iced over.

"So this is what you call getting abducted and dying?" he questioned.

He marched over and seized her by the wrist, his tone steeped in mockery.

"You disappeared for a whole week—phone off, no replies—and even Grandma was worried. You did all that just to make me find you? You're so calculating that it makes me sick.

"Nat just got back, and you've already got her catching flak? Do you really think this will make me worry about you?" he asked.

Luther squeezed hard, as if to break her wrist. A livid band of bruising rose under her skin almost instantly.

Cressida had always had a low tolerance for pain, but she barely felt it now. Maybe it was because she'd already endured pain worse than death. What she experienced now barely registered compared with that.

Luther's words did the damage instead, and they shattered her heart. Even if they were barely more than acquaintances, wouldn't anyone worry if she suddenly went missing?

But she'd been missing for a full week, and he hadn't cared in the slightest. He even thought she'd done it on purpose to cause him trouble.

What did three years of groveling and handing him whatever he asked for mean to him?

Cressida's eyes were red-rimmed as she looked at him. She waited a long moment before she spoke. "What if something really had happened to me? What would you have done then?"

Luther's lips tightened. His eyes went cold.

Though he didn't rush back after receiving that call, he did ask the butler where Cressida had gone. When he learned she'd just driven out, he was sure she was lying.

There were cameras all over the villa community. The idea that she could have been taken right after leaving was almost impossible.

And now, Cressida still refused to admit she was wrong after vanishing and stirring up a fuss.

He'd flinched at the reek of blood when he came in, and yet here Cressida stood in one piece. How did she have the gall to say that?

"I'd be more than pleased if something really happened to you. Marrying you has been my greatest regret."

Luther gave a cold, mirthless snort, tightened his grip, and jerked her out of the warehouse. "Now, knock it off and come back with me. I don't have time to waste on you."

Cressida staggered as he hauled her outside, that bone-deep pain still clinging to her. He yanked her into the car, slammed the door, and got behind the wheel.

They drove back to the Ashworth residence.

As they arrived, Cressida immediately spotted Natasha Ashworth at the window. She was arranging flowers with her thick hair falling loose over her shoulders, looking serene and elegant.

Natasha looked up when she heard the sound of the engine and waved, smiling. "Lud, you're back. Did you find Cressie?"

She sounded concerned, but her words came with a barb. "Really, Cressie. Throwing a fit is one thing, but how can you make everyone worry like this?"

Luther glanced at the back seat, his face set as he pulled the door open. Cressida stepped out and looked at Natasha, a self-depreciating smile tugging at her lips.

Even if she had really died, would Luther have felt anything but relief?

Only a week had passed, and he'd already brought Natasha home. If not for his grandmother, Colette Pearce, worrying about Cressida, he likely wouldn't have looked for her at all.

When she first returned to life, Cressida clung to a shred of hope. She'd thought getting Luther to say he loved her might not be so hard. But now, she no longer had the will to beg for his love.

She found herself thinking of that brief moment when she'd arrived, how she'd barely caught Natasha's eyes widening in disbelief.

Chapter 3 Three Words for a Divorce

Soon enough, Natasha pulled herself together and went over to take Cressida's hand.

"Cressie, you're finally back. Where have you been these last few days? Mom, Dad, and Mrs. Strudwick Senior were worried sick. Lud's slammed with work, and he's been run ragged over your disappearance these past few days. It honestly hurts to watch."

She glanced at Luther. "Oh, Lud, I made some soup for lunch. Make sure you have some. Don't wear yourself out."

Luther met her gaze and smiled. "Alright. Thanks for making it."

Cressida was his wife, yet in that moment, she felt like the odd one out. Luther and Natasha seemed made for each other.

A sour pang rose in her chest. She pushed Natasha's hand away without expression. "Wouldn't things be easier for you two if I weren't here being an eyesore?"

Luther's face had just softened, but now, it went cold again. "What are you pulling now? Natasha asked because she was worried about you, and this is how you respond?"

Natasha put on a wounded look. "Cressie, don't misunderstand. Lud's been worn out these past few days, so I came to look after him. We were childhood friends, after all. Even if you two are married, we…"

She left the rest unsaid, but the provocation in her eyes was clear. And Cressida understood exactly what she meant.

Natasha's point was plain. She was the one Luther loved. Even if Cressida held the "Mrs. Strudwick" title, it counted for nothing.

Pain sharpened in Cressida's chest. When Luther stepped forward, frowning as he shielded Natasha, Cressida's nose stung and her breath hitched.

After a long moment, she managed a faint smile. "You're right. What you two have run deep. I shouldn't have forced my way in."

Both of them froze.

Luther's brow knitted tighter, for he hadn't seen that coming. Even when Natasha had been absent for years, Cressida's proud, headstrong nature would've made her blow up when she saw him with Natasha.

Cressida would have started fights, made a scene, and acted as if everything were falling apart. But why was she so calm now?

Natasha was even more stunned. She'd poked at Cressida on purpose, wanting her to crack. Why was that bitch…

Cressida met their eyes, her expression more serious than ever. "Luther, you've always wanted to marry Natasha. I'll step aside. I'm divorcing you."

Luther's face hardened further. "What did you just say?"

How dare she even bring up divorce? Hadn't she done everything to become his wife? And hadn't she bent over backward to please him after the wedding just to secure her place?

Cressida repeated herself. "We're getting a divorce. I'll leave with nothing. From now on, I won't bother you again. All I want is to hear you say you love me."

It was only a few lines, but it took everything she had. Since his love would never be hers, letting go was all that was left.

All she wanted now was to stay alive long enough to be by Daphne's side and care for her to the very end.

Luther clenched his fists, a flicker of shock crossing his face. But it took only a moment for him to pull himself together.

For a second, he thought Cressida had finally grown a spine, but she had only switched tactics, playing hard to get.

He knew at once she just wanted him to say the words to needle Natasha and that she would never go through with a divorce.

"Love you? What makes you think you're worthy of my love?" He gave a cold laugh, every word dripping with contempt. "You're just a conniving woman who wormed your way into my bed and married me for your own ends.

"I still wouldn't love you even if every other woman alive dropped dead. Besides, my heart is with Nat. A cheap trick like this will never drive us apart."

Delight flashed in Natasha's eyes, but she schooled her features into surprised shyness. "Don't say that, Lud. Cressie will be upset."

Luther's face stayed impassive. "Whether she's upset has nothing to do with me. I'd made it clear when she hounded me to marry her. She gets nothing aside from the title of Mrs. Strudwick. It's not my job to worry about her feelings."

With that, he shoved Cressida aside, took Natasha's hand, and headed for the door. "Leave her. It's your birthday tonight. Don't let that downer kill the mood."

Natasha flashed a shy smile, glanced over her shoulder at Cressida, and followed him into the living room.

Cressida's heart iced over again. It was her birthday, too, but Luther never remembered it. Now, he was throwing a birthday party for Natasha in what was supposed to be their home.

Numb, Cressida went in after them. She found the living room blanketed with fresh flowers and balloons strung along the walls.

The wedding portrait that had once hung there had vanished. The lilies she had set on the dining table before she got abducted had been swapped out for red roses.

The maids looked right past her, busy taping up Natasha's photos and "Happy Birthday" banners across the wall.

Every trace of Cressida had been scrubbed clean from the house in just a week. She'd decided to move on, yet a cold, cutting ache bloomed beneath her ribs.

She had only three months left to live. Unless Luther said he loved her, she'd die.

At the very least, she'd see Daphne settled before that day came, and she'd find whoever had killed her and bring them to justice.

As Cressida reached the second floor, she saw that the door beside the study was slightly ajar. From inside came a muffled, frantic bark of anger.

"Didn't you promise me she wouldn't be coming back? What the hell is going on now? We had a deal. I got you that file, and you…"

Chapter 4 Overhearing a Call

Cressida's hands balled into fists. She suddenly remembered the way Natasha had looked at her at the door just now. It was as if Natasha had been certain she would never come home.

Cressida held her breath and eased closer, straining to hear.

Just then, Natasha turned while still on the phone, and their eyes met.

Realizing Cressida might have overheard, Natasha ended the call in a hurry. Her voice trembled as she asked, "Cressie? W-What are you doing here?"

That guilty look on Natasha's face only made Cressida more certain that something was seriously wrong.

"Who were you on the phone with just now?" Cressida closed the distance, her eyes ice-cold. "Did you send the man who abducted me? And you trade a file for it?"

All color drained from Natasha's face.

A week earlier, a mysterious man had reached out and offered to take Cressida out of the picture. In return, Natasha had to lift a file from Luther's study.

But now, not only had Cressida come back alive, but she had also overheard her call. What was Natasha supposed to do?

Panic rose in Natasha's chest as footsteps drew closer.

Cressida was too focused on grabbing Natasha's phone to notice. She'd thought the man killed her because he hadn't gotten his money.

Now she realized that her death itself had been the bargaining chip in his deal with Natasha. No wonder he'd tortured her so cruelly. The memory of her final despair sent hatred boiling up in her.

If she could prove Natasha had hired someone to abduct her, she could go to the police. They would find the killer, and Luther would finally see Natasha's true colors. Perhaps she could even survive this.

As soon as Cressida gripped Natasha's wrist, Natasha staggered. Off balance, she pitched out the window.

"Natasha, you…"

Cressida froze. The study door sat ajar. It blew inward under a hard kick.

Luther stood in the doorway, his voice icy. "Cressida! What the hell did you do?"

From downstairs came Natasha's cry of pain, followed by the maids' screams.

Luther's gaze went frigid. He stormed forward, shoving Cressida aside to look out the window. When he saw Natasha lying below in a pool of blood, he clenched his fists, and his eyes turned bloodshot.

His shove sent Cressida crashing to the floor, her lower back striking the table's corner. A mug went off the table and shattered.

When she threw out a hand to brace herself, porcelain shards bit into her palm, and the pain drained the color from her face. She was about to explain, despite the pain, but a hand clamped around her throat.

"Cressida! How dare you do this to Natasha?"

Luther didn't seem to see the pain on her face. His eyes held nothing but hate. "I can't believe you'd be this vicious! You tried to kill her just because I'll be celebrating her birthday at home?"

The suffocating agony surged through Cressida and dragged her back to the terror and torment of her death.

She scraped up a breath and forced out the words. "It wasn't me… I didn't… It was her…"

Luther gave a harsh laugh. "You're still trying to lie your way out? If anything happens to Nat, I will bury you with her!"

With that, he flung her aside and strode out of the study.

Cressida lay sprawled on the floor, listening to the commotion outside and to Luther's anxious voice as the cold numbed her limbs. He hadn't even let her finish before deciding she had hurt Natasha.

Wasn't Cressida always the one being targeted and hurt instead? Luther had once promised to protect her forever and believe her. When did that change?

Struggling to her feet, Cressida looked out the window. The ambulance had already arrived. Luther was carrying Natasha into it, cradling her as if she were made of glass.

Cressida opened her hand and stared at the porcelain shard sunk deep in her palm. The ache in her chest outweighed any pain in her body.

She glanced toward the study's corner where the surveillance camera sat. Then, she brought up the footage on the computer.

Since Luther refused to believe her, she'd have to depend on herself.

Half an hour later, after tending to the wound on her hand, Cressida copied the clip to her phone and set out for the police station.

She'd just started down the stairs when Luther's car came roaring back into the driveway.

Chapter 5 The One Condition

When Luther stepped out of the car, fury rolled off him. The moment he saw Cressida, hatred burned in his eyes.

She tried to step back, but he yanked her by the wrist. The cut in her palm took the pressure, and the pain drained the color from her face.

"Let go!" she yelled.

Luther acted as if he hadn't heard and dragged her into the car.

Dread sank through Cressida. "What are you trying to do?"

In the rearview mirror, his eyes blazed with murderous intent.

"You have the nerve to ask? You pushed Nat out the window. She is in surgery right now, bleeding out. Her blood type is rare. None of the hospitals or blood banks in the city has any.

"You made this mess, and now you're going to fix it with your own blood!"

Cressida pressed her wounded palm, her voice strained. "I told you I didn't push her. You can check the surveillance footage on my phone if you don't believe me."

Luther gave a mirthless laugh. "So you're saying she'd risk her life just to frame you? Are you even worth that?"

He stomped on the gas. The jolt slammed her head into the seatback and left her reeling.

"Not everyone's as vicious as you! Nat's been kind since she was a kid. You've hated her ever since you came back, and you've been on her case at every turn! You should've died in that mountain dump!"

Cressida's head swam, and the metallic taste of blood thickened on her tongue.

She had been born an Ashworth, but she had been abducted at two and raised far off in the mountains. The family that had taken her in gave her nothing but beatings and insults.

From as long as she could remember, she'd been made to wait on them hand and foot and rarely got a full meal. Daphne alone had shown her true care.

She'd shield Cressida from the blows, and when the couple tried to keep Cressida from school, Daphne used her hidden savings to beg the teachers for help.

So when the Ashworths finally brought Cressida back, she thought she belonged at last. But whatever she did, her family circled only around Natasha, treating her, their own flesh and blood, as the intruder.

The first time she met Luther, Natasha's cronies had locked her in the school's equipment room. He was the one who found her and got her out.

He said, "I'm Luther Strudwick. If you hadn't been abducted, we would've grown up together. From now on, come to me if anything happens. I'll protect you."

He meant it. He walked her to school and back every day, and nobody dared lay a hand on her again.

Hence, she told herself that returning to the Ashworths hadn't been entirely a curse. At least it had led her to Luther. But now, he was saying he wished she'd died in that mountain dump.

Cressida had loved him for years, only to see that to him she was nothing but trouble and a joke.

She said nothing. She kept her head down and waited until they reached the hospital.

…

Luther brought Cressida to a doctor.

After the examination, the doctor spoke hesitantly. "Mr. Strudwick, she isn't in any condition to donate blood. She's about four weeks pregnant, and giving blood now could cause a miscarriage."

Cressida's eyes widened in disbelief, and even Luther froze where he stood.

Thinking back, she realized her period had been over a month late. She'd chalked it up to her erratic schedule and hadn't thought much of it.

Doing the math, she remembered that a month ago, after a business function and too much alcohol, Luther had forced himself on her. They hadn't used protection.

What was she supposed to do now? She might have only three months to live, and this baby…

The exam room went dead quiet.

Luther stared at her, ice in his eyes.

Cressida's heart sank under his gaze. "You—"

Before she could continue, he smirked and turned to the doctor, his tone flat and uncompromising.

"Does she even deserve to be carrying my child? Draw her blood. By your own words, it's a risk, not a sure thing. Don't waste time on something this minor. Nothing can happen to Nat."

His ice-cold voice sent Cressida's heart plunging.

She knew she might never carry the baby to term, but she'd never imagined Luther could shrug off the life of his own child. Years of pent-up hurt rose at once.

Her nails bit into her palm as she forced the words out. "Luther, hate me if you want, but this is your child. How can you be this heartless?"

Luther's gaze turned icier, a smirk of pure contempt playing at his lips. "Cressida, having you give birth to my child would be the biggest disgrace of my life."

Then he turned to the doctor, his tone edged with steel. "What are you waiting for? Draw her blood. If anything happens to Natasha, none of you will be spared."

The doctor blanched. He knew how far Luther's reach went, and hesitation flickered in his eyes.

After a moment, he forced the words out. "I'm sorry, Ms. Ashworth. Please try to understand…"

Cressida's eyes were red-rimmed, and even her fingers were shaking. She knew exactly what Luther was like and didn't want to make things difficult for the medical staff.

"Fine. I can donate blood to Natasha." She briefly shut her eyes, her voice hoarse. "But I have one condition."

Luther sneered, disgust plain in his eyes. Three years into the marriage, and she was finally showing her true colors.

"What do you want? A house? Some other real estate? Stocks? Or do you want me to hand you cash?" he asked.