Chapter 222

• John’s POV
• The cold air felt like ice in my throat. I held the bouquet of carefully selected roses in my hand. The diamond ring in the velvet box burned into my palm like a searing brand. Tonight, when Lily received her final curtain call, I would walk onto the stage with flowers and a promise and beg her to come back to me. That thought carried me into the theater. I had no idea I was walking straight into a bloody nightmare.
• The crowd’s panic was like an invisible wall between me and the stage. I caught fragments—"miscarriage," "Grace"—like ice picks stabbing my heart. I pushed my way through the crowd. My field of vision opened up—and I saw hell.