Stout Ryan Max

At the annual Navy ball, while I was having a panic attack, my SEAL husband abandoned me in front of hundreds of his colleagues. He left me with just one cold sentence. “I have to go. My promotion is on the line.” Then he walked away without a backward glance, straight toward his first love, Seraphina, the admiral’s daughter. It was the seventh time he had left me for his so-called “future.” It was also the final time in the cruel wager between Seraphina and me. If I lost, I would have to disappear from his world for good. I don’t know how I made it back to our quarters. All I remember is the freezing night wind slicing across my face like a knife. My gown was soaked with muddy water. My heels had rubbed my feet raw. Every step felt like walking on broken glass. Cramps tore through my abdomen, and I curled up outside my own door, nearly unconscious. A golf cart stopped in front of me. Seraphina looked down at me from on high, her voice dripping with the pleasure of victory. “You thought he chose love? No. He chose the power my father can give him. And you were just the most convenient stepping-stone on his path.” I pushed myself up from the ground and looked at her face, so certain she had already won. Suddenly, I laughed. I laughed at my own naivety. I had mistaken an elaborately designed fraud for a marriage. “Congratulations,” I said. “You won the bet.” “Now the game is over. It’s my turn.” … Seraphina’s laughter drifted through the cool San Diego air like honey laced with poison. I gripped the doorframe, my nails digging into the wood. *The game is over. It’s my turn.* Saying those words had drained the last of my strength. Another cramp tore through my abdomen, as if an invisible hand were twisting my insides. I staggered into the apartment and slammed the door, cutting off the mockery behind me. The buried memories came rushing back with the scalding water in the shower. I met Seraphina at......