My Scars, His Unconditional Devotion

At eight months pregnant, my world was a pastel nursery and the gentle kicks of my unborn child. I believed my husband, Barron, and I were building a perfect future, a life filled with meticulous joy.

That future shattered with the splintering of our front door. A brutal assailant left me bleeding, but the true betrayal came in the ambulance. Through a fog of pain, I heard my husband' s cold, calculating voice on the phone.

He had orchestrated the attack to induce a miscarriage.

He needed our baby gone to fulfill a twisted promise: his firstborn had to be with another woman, Gisela.