My Husband, The Monster

From the back cover

The world shattered in a flash of white-hot light, and the screaming began. My husband, John, once the living proof of my life' s work, a hero reborn, transformed into a monster right before my eyes.

He wasn't just violent; he was unrecognizably enraged, tearing at reinforced barriers with superhuman strength given by the very neural chip I designed to heal his mind. In the ensuing chaos, a heavy stanchion swung, hitting me.

I woke up in a sterile hospital room, a hollow ache where my baby bump used to be. Our child was gone. John, who had caused this, sat nearby, his face a battleground of conflicting emotions.

He blamed me, "Our child is dead because your work wasn' t good enough, Eve."

His words twisted the dagger. Not only had he stolen our child, but he also accused my life's dedication, corrupted by my shrewd rival, Vivian Thorne, whose name on his lips felt like the ultimate betrayal.

They stripped me of everything-my project, my license, my credibility-a public execution at my hospital bed. Then, Vivian, with a sickeningly sweet smile, proposed using my dead son's genetic material, combined with my stolen neural map, to create her "perfect" being.

The horror paralyzed me. This wasn't just theft; it was a profane violation. I was forced to concede, typing out the master password to my life' s work.

But then, a flicker of something new ignited within me. "You have no idea what you' ve just done," I whispered.

Trapped, tortured, alone, a faint whisper echoed in my mind from the depths of despair. It's not over. It was my own voice-clear, strong, a promise of retribution.