Chapter 1

My best friend, Zara, had studied magic performance in Las Vegas for half a year. When she came back, she shot to stardom.

To make more money, she loved performing extreme stunts at every live show.

At first, I earnestly warned her to be careful, but she completely ignored me, becoming even more obsessed. I gradually realized something was terribly wrong.

When she performed a chain escape act on stage, my shoulder inexplicably dislocated.

When she locked herself in a water tank for an extreme escape, I felt an intense pressure in my chest and uncontrollably spewed water at the dinner table.

The most terrifying time, she showed the audience her razor blade swallowing act. My esophagus was horrifically lacerated by some foreign object, rotting all the way down to my stomach.

From my hospital bed, I tearfully pleaded with my husband, Noah, who was her magic assistant.

He, however, lectured me, “Zara went to study magic, not black magic. You're pregnant; why aren't you being more careful? What does her magic have to do with you? Just stay home and focus on your pregnancy.”

I sat there, stunned, reflecting. Was it really just prenatal depression?

Then came Zara's national tour, with the grand finale act: sawing a person in half.

Six long knives were plunged into the box she had entered. She emerged unharmed, but I was stabbed through my pregnant belly, killing both me and my unborn child in my own home.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of Zara's first performance after returning home.