I Let Him Save His Mistress

The knife was cold against my throat. Again.

The lead kidnapper laid out the terms, his voice gruff. "Your boyfriend here can only take one of you. The other stays with us until the rest of the money shows up. So, rich boy. Choose. Your fiancée? Or your childhood sweetheart?"

Chad's face was pale, his eyes darting between me and Tiffany. Just like last time, his hand started to move toward me.

I shook my head before he could speak. "Save Tiffany first, Chad."

I knew him. If he saved me, he'd regret it. Big time.

In my first life, after he'd chosen me and we'd left to get more money, those monsters had taken advantage of Tiffany. They'd taken horrific photos. The violation broke her. That same night, she went home and ended her life.

Chad, ever Mr. Cool and Collected, never showed an ounce of emotion. We still got married. We still walked down the aisle.

But he made the next seven years of my life a living hell. Our entire marriage became my penance for a tragedy I didn't cause. I finally pushed for a divorce. On the way to sign the papers, he snapped, drove us off a cliff.

Even as we were plunging to our deaths, he was still screaming at me. "We owed Tiffany everything! This whole marriage was for her, and you had the nerve to be happy!"

Yeah. No thanks. Not doing that again.

So when I felt that familiar cold steel on my skin, I knew exactly what I had to do.

"Ashley, come with me," Chad pleaded, his voice strained.

I just shook my head again, more firmly this time. "Chad, go get Tiffany."

This time, I was carrying no one's baggage but my own. I refused to be shackled with the guilt of someone else's death.

A wave of unmistakable relief washed over Chad's face. "Okay. Ashley, I should save you. You're my fiancée. But you said it, so don't you dare blame me later."

He didn't just help Tiffany up—he practically bolted with her, scrambling out of that warehouse like he was afraid I'd change my mind.

But that's the fundamental difference between Chad and me. When I make a choice, I own it. He just lives with his regrets.

Last time, he'd brought the ransom, but the kidnappers moved the goalposts. They said the money was only enough for one person. He picked me. We drove back to town for more cash, and in that window of time, they traumatized Tiffany. They didn't go all the way, but they didn't need to. It was enough.