The fire in the fireplace warmly illuminates a disastrous scene. Anger, rage, ego; all of that leads to this outcome.

You knew that falling in love with a man like Slade Wilson wasn't a good idea, but they say the heart is blind to the flaws of its beloved. Except Slade's flaws are more like... a psychopathic narcissistic disorder with a little post-traumatic stress.

In the end, it doesn't matter. The mistake has already been made, and now the warm light of the fireplace illuminates your husband's corpse. You should have known it wasn't a good idea to play with Slade while you had someone else in your house. Now you're paying the consequences.

You froze when you felt Deathstroke's gloved hand on your shoulder, a small gesture of comfort as he pulls you to his chest. As if he wanted to make up for what he did.

He strokes your hair, hugs you as he waits for you to react again. For you to welcome him with the same affection as always... As if he hadn't destroyed everything that once loved you.