To ignite inspiration for his childhood sweetheart, the artist, my husband locks me inside a wooden cabin. “She is the greatest creator alive—sacrificing for her is your honor.” But she craves more thrill and sets the cabin ablaze, trapping me in a sea of fire. I scream, beg, tear my throat raw—only to meet his icy stare. “A little fire won’t kill you. Can’t you just endure?” Rescued half-dead, my face charred beyond recognition, lungs failing, I fight for life in the hospital. Doctors call again and again for his consent to surgery; he hangs up without a word. When the line finally connects, his roar explodes: “Do you know how much she’s poured into this competition? Stop being selfish!” “I promise we’ll live well after this. Let you bear my child—deal?” Our child was already gone. Staring at the embryo the doctors remove, I vow: no more love.

Chapter 1

To help his precious friend Claribel Quinn find her artistic inspiration, my husband, Esteban Palmer, locked me in a tiny wooden cabin.

"Clarie is a true artist," he said coldly. "Being her muse should be your honor."

But for Claribel, that wasn't enough. She wanted something more "exciting." So she struck a match and set the cabin on fire.

I screamed until my throat tore, begging for mercy, but Esteban just stared down at me as if I were dirt on his shoe.

"A little fire won't kill you. Can't you stop being so dramatic?"

My face was ruined beyond repair, my lungs scorched from the smoke.

The doctors kept calling Esteban, urging him to sign the surgery consent form, but he hung up every time.

When he finally answered, his voice was full of fury.

"Aislinn, do you have any idea how hard Clary's worked for this competition? Can you stop being unreasonable?"

He sighed impatiently. "Fine, I'll be better. You can even have the damn baby. Happy now?"

But our baby was alrea