His Fatal Mistake

The night the psychotic killer promised to murder Laney, Ethan—lead homicide detective and my husband—personally forced Laney's red dress over my head. "Avery, please. I'm begging you just this once." "That psycho specifically asked for Laney. You have the tactical training. You're the only one who can draw him away." My fingers tightened around the ultrasound scan tucked in my pocket—the one I hadn't had the chance to show him yet. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I choked out a single word: "Okay." Relief washed over him. He wrapped me in a tight embrace, swearing on his life that Unit Two was right behind me and that nothing would happen to me. Yet when the killer's car rammed violently into mine, driving me to the brink of death, the only lifeline I had—my phone on the passenger seat—lit up. It wasn't a message saying backup was near. It was a text from Ethan, containing just two words: All clear. In his eyes, the moment Laney was safely evacuated, the mission was a complete success. As for me, the abandoned decoy? I had never been part of his plan. The moment the icy river rushed into my nose and throat, I felt no pain. Only cold. Colder than winter training at the police academy, shivering in a freezing mud pit. Back then, I had passed out from menstrual cramps in the freezing sludge. Ethan had dug me out like a madman, carrying me on his back for nearly two miles straight to the infirmary. Back then, he had wept, swearing, "Avery, if I ever let you suffer again, I don't deserve to wear this badge." Now, that uniform sat on him—crisp, sharp, and authoritative. And with his own hands, he had shoved his two-months-pregnant wife straight into the clutches of a serial killer. All clear. The phone screen flickered beneath the dark water. That was the last Snap Ethan sent me. Just two words. It meant the maniac had been successfully lured away. Laney, his beloved first love, was safe. As for whether the bait had been pushed off a hundred-foot bridge, crushed to dust and bone—it wasn't his concern. The crushing water pressure squeezed against my lower abdomen. Instinctively, I curled my body to protect my belly, but the twisted wreckage of the front cabin pinned my legs like a vice. Agony tore through my insides, violently twisting my womb. Before my vision faded into black, I saw the glove compartment pop open. A small silver Saint Christopher medal tumbled out. On our graduation day, Ethan had gone to a small chapel and had this exact medal engraved for me, then blessed. He had said, "Avery, you fight on the front lines. Let this keep you safe when I can't." Yet just half an hour ago, I had watched him secretly swap my real medal for the cheap replica Laney had bought. He had said, "Laney is easily frightened; she relies on little keepsakes like this. You have combat skills, Avery. You don't need a lucky charm." The silver medal drifted through the dark water, looking sickeningly like an uncoiling ribbon of blood. Despair dragged my eyes shut. Ethan. Your gods couldn't save me. You were the one who killed me.I woke to an agonizing, gnawing pain. It felt like thousands of fire ants devouring my internal organs. "She's awake! Doctor! The patient is awake!" Ethan's voice rang out, raw with sudden joy and immense relief. I struggled to force my eyes open. His jaw was covered in rough stubble, his eyes bloodshot, his uniform rumpled and creased. It looked like he had been keeping vigil for days. The moment he saw me open my eyes, he grabbed my hand so hard my knuckles throbbed. "Avery, you're finally awake. Do you have any idea how terrified I was?" "If anything happened to you, I would never have forgiven myself." His tears fell onto the back of my hand, scalding hot. Once, my heart would have ached for him. I would have wiped his tears and teased him, saying this wasn't like the cold, unflinching Detective Vance. Now, I only felt sick to my stomach. I pulled my hand back and croaked hoarsely, "Where's the baby?" Ethan froze. The ecstatic relief on his face instantly solidified, his eyes darting away in panic. "Avery, you just woke up. You're weak. Have some water first—" "I asked you where our baby is!" I screamed with every shred of strength I possessed. The sudden strain tore at my surgical stitches, breaking out a cold sweat across my forehead. Ethan pushed down gently on my shoulders, terrified of meeting my gaze. "Avery, calm down, please." "The car was too crushed... a rebar pierced right through your abdomen." "The surgeon said... if they didn't perform a full hysterectomy, you wouldn't have survived." "I'm a cop, but I'm your husband first. I had to save you." Boom. The last tether holding my sanity together snapped. A hysterectomy. I hadn't just lost my baby. I had lost the chance to ever be a mother. I stared at him with unblinking, hollow eyes, the tears drying inside my sockets. "Ethan, you knew I was pregnant." It wasn't a question. Before leaving for that mission, I had left the ultrasound scan right in the center of the coffee table, wanting to surprise him. There was no way he missed it. Ethan's face went dead white as he dodged the point. "I thought... I didn't think the psycho would actually find you—" "You're lying." "You're a forensic and crime scene expert. You wouldn't recognize an ultrasound? You knew I was carrying your child, yet you forced me into that red dress to draw a psychopath's attention." "You sent me, your tactical-officer wife, to die so delicate little Laney could walk away scratch-free!" Crash! Ethan slammed the glass water cup onto the bedside table, shattering it into pieces. His eyes flared red, and he roared, "Avery! Enough! Are you ever going to drop this?!" "Laney had an asthma attack from pure terror! You are a trained officer with survival skills! What does she have? She's completely helpless!" "Putting ourselves on the line to protect civilians—didn't we take that oath together at the academy?!" "And I did everything to fix it! I put two bullets through that bastard's skull myself! What more do you want from me?!" I looked at the furious man towering over me. Suddenly, I laughed. I laughed until my stitches tore, blood seeping through the front of my hospital gown. "Ethan, that was your child." "To save Laney, you murdered your own baby." Ethan shuddered violently, all the strength drained from his limbs. He collapsed onto the chair, looking utterly defeated. "Avery... I'm sorry." "We don't need kids. I'll take care of you for the rest of your life, okay?" "Laney feels terribly guilty too. She—" Before he could finish, a custom ringtone sounded from his pocket. It was almost an instinct. Ethan snatched the phone and answered, his voice dropping into an impossibly tender tone within a fraction of a second. "Laney, don't cry. I'm right here." "A nightmare? Don't be scared, I'm coming right over." Hanging up, he didn't even dare look me in the eye. "Avery, Laney's in the room next door. She's emotionally unstable and showing signs of self-harm. I need to check on her." "Rest up. I'll call a nurse to watch you." With that, he bolted from the room as if escaping a fire. I stared at his retreating back. The man who once knelt on the academy track field in front of thousands of cadets, declaring he would gladly give his life for mine, was now walking over the blood of his unborn child just to tuck another woman into bed.The day I was discharged, Ethan came to pick me up. He had detailed the car until it was spotless, placing a bouquet of champagne roses—my favorite—on the passenger seat. "Avery, let's go home." He carefully reached over to fasten my seatbelt. "I took paid leave. I'll stay home and take care of you the entire month." "You said you wanted to go on a cabin trip to Oregon. As soon as you heal up, we'll go." He was desperately trying to paint over the cracks. Yet, I caught the faint, lingering scent of gardenia perfume in the vents. Laney's signature scent. I pulled open the glove compartment. Empty. The customized bracelet I had kept in there was gone. In its place lay an elegant, expensive hair clip. Ethan followed my gaze. His expression stiffened, and he slammed the compartment shut. "Oh, that... Laney must have dropped it when I drove her to the clinic." "Avery, don't read into it." "I'm not reading into anything." I stared calmly out the window. "Drive." The chilling silence rattled Ethan down to his bones. He would have preferred me screaming, throwing punches, or hurling insults like I used to. Anything was better than this—sitting beside him like a hollowed-out doll. We arrived home. The digital lock didn't recognize my fingerprint. I pressed my thumb against the sensor three times, only for the robotic voice to repeat: Verification failed. Ethan offered an awkward laugh. "The system had a firmware update the other day. It must have wiped your data." He typed in the passcode to open the door. The moment the door swung open, I thought I had walked into the wrong apartment. Laney's oil paintings hung along the hallway walls. Laney's plushies cluttered the sofa. Even the prized orchids I had spent three years nurturing on the balcony had been completely ripped out, replaced by potted gardenias. Laney emerged from the kitchen wearing my silk pajama set, tied in Ethan's cooking apron, holding a plate of glazed ribs. Catching sight of me, she flashed a timid, fragile smile. "Avery, you're back." "Ethan told me you were being discharged today, so I came over to make you dinner." "I learned this rib recipe from Ethan. Would you like a taste?" She welcomed me in like the lady of the house. Ethan hurried forward, taking the plate from her hands with a scolding, protective tone. "Didn't I tell you to rest? You burned your fingers earlier, and you're still cooking?" Then he turned to me with an entirely different demeanor. "Avery, Laney spent the whole morning bustling around just to make things up to you. She can't stand kitchen grease, but she did it anyway. For the sake of her good intentions, don't give her the cold shoulder." I looked at the slightly charred ribs. Back in our academy days, after I won the state kickboxing championship, Ethan had rewarded me by cooking this exact meal in his cramped ten-by-ten rental using a cheap cooker. Back then, he had smiled and promised, "Avery, I'll cook you ribs for the rest of our lives." Now, that exact dish had become another woman's weapon to mark her territory.I walked forward. I picked up the plate of ribs. Under their stunned stares, I hurled the entire plate—food, porcelain, and all—straight into the trash bin. CRASH! The loud shatter made Laney shriek, retreating straight into Ethan's arms. "Avery! Have you lost your damn mind?!" Ethan shielded Laney, his eyes blazing with fury. "She came here to apologize to you! If you're angry, take it out on me! What kind of sick satisfaction do you get from bullying her?!" I pointed at the sea of gardenias filling the room, then at the silk pajamas clinging to Laney's body. "Apologize?" "Wearing my clothes, sleeping with my husband, taking over my home—that's what you call an apology?" "Ethan, do you think losing my uterus meant I lost my brain too?" Tears streamed down Laney's porcelain cheeks, looking as though she might faint at any second. "Avery, please, I didn't mean it like that... my clothes got stained, and Ethan just told me to borrow yours..." "Shut up," I snapped, cutting her off coldly. "This is my house. Pack your trash and get the hell out." "Avery!" Ethan tightened his hold on the woman in his arms, his eyes swimming with profound disappointment. "When did you become so completely unreasonable?" "Reporters have staked out Laney's apartment! She had nowhere to go, so she stayed here for a few days!" "You used to be the most understanding, magnanimous person I knew! How did you turn into such a bitter shrew?" A shrew. So, fighting for my dignity made me a shrew in his eyes. "Right. Good to know." I nodded, turning on my heel toward the master bedroom. On the nightstand, our large, framed wedding portrait had vanished. In its place sat a framed photo of Ethan and Laney laughing together. I pulled my suitcase from the closet. I packed only a few changes of casual clothes. Every single corner of this place made me sick. Ethan rushed into the room. Seeing my packed bag, sheer panic took over. "Where are you going?" He snatched the handle of my suitcase away. "I won't let you leave! This is your home!" "Avery, can you stop making a scene? If it makes you happy, I'll have Laney move out right now, okay?" "We can start over. Forget about the baby... we can adopt later." "Ethan." I cut him off, reaching into my jacket and slapping a sheet of paper against his chest. It was a signed divorce petition. "I've already signed it." "Keep the house. Keep the car. Keep that woman." "I just want my freedom." Ethan stared at the paperwork, terror finally overtaking his rage. It seemed he had only just realized I wasn't bluffing. "I'm not signing this! Avery, you can't throw away a marriage over a minor dispute!" "A minor dispute?" I pointed to my empty, scarred lower belly. "Two lives were ruined, and to you, it's just a minor dispute." "Ethan, the day we took the oath, you swore to defend justice." "Right now, you are the greatest injustice I have ever faced in my entire life." I shoved him aside, hauling my suitcase past him. As I brushed past Laney in the living room, I stopped dead in my tracks. Leaning in close, I whispered into her ear in a voice meant only for her: "Laney... do you really think that killer is dead?"