rile blur. The first thing she saw was Dominic, sitting in

his voice thick with r

mind felt foggy, struggling to piece together what had happened. T

hing in his hands. It was a smal

" she asked, h

ack at her. He seemed hesitant, almost

ide attempt. The loss of their baby. And her

it. A painting? For the child of her fiancé and her stepsister?

on the sandalwood bo

its blade exquisitely sharp. It was a professional tool for an artist who someti

he card had read. "May you al

the lines on her palm. "These hands," he' d whispered

so sweet it tas

o paint?" Hazel asked, d

calpel gleamed under the soft bedroo

you to use

oom like stones. Blood. Her blood.

ing horror. This wasn' t just an insult. It was a defilement. It was a ritual o

yal, why did this new cruelty feel like a fresh wound? She thought she had armored he

n. She sees this as a way for you to atone. A way for us all to move past this." He looked at her, his eye

The word wa

whisper. "For wanting my fiancé to be faithf

rose, his guilt making him defensive. "A chi

hroat before she could stop them. They were wil

er outburst. "What are you talk

certainty. "You are willfully, deliberately blind." She looked at th

ve them their pound of flesh.

er voice dropping to a

ed. "Thank you, Hazel

r eyes locking onto his. "

er, uncomprehe

map of blue veins. "If I am to atone, then you are the one who will exact the punishment

to feel it. I want you to watch it happen. And I want you t

he scalpel, then at her wrist, his face turning pale. He

no... I

an who accused me of being heartless? Where is the man who demanded I sp

shame. He snatched the scalpel f

the blade. He hesitated, his eyes fixed on her wrist.

She just watched him,

id suddenly, h

minic' s face. He thought sh

y brushes. If I' m going to do this, I' m going to do it properly. I d