My Friend, My Wife, and My Greatest Traitor

When I still believed what Evelyn Chase and I had was real love, she had taken three stabbings for me—one that left a scar above her brow, another across her ankle and one buried deep in her back. People used to say Evelyn loved me more than her own life. That was before another man showed up brazen.

“You Adrian Penn?” he asked, flinging a stack of photos into my face. “Evelyn doesn’t love you anymore. Take the hint and get lost.”

In those pictures, Evelyn’s gaze was soft, tender.