Hate was too weak of a word for the way you felt about your ex-husband. He left you alone, fending for yourself as you cared for the baby growing in your stomach.

He had the audacity to knock on your door, stepping inside as if he had never left. 

"Leave," you said coldly, pointing a gun at him. He was a stranger to you at this point, a trespasser.

Simon didn't listen, only stepping closer. He grabbed your hand and guided your gun to his heart. "If this will make you forgive me, shoot me here. You own it anyway."