Chapter 3

3.

It was two in the morning by the time I got back to the SoHo penthouse.

Vince bought the apartment for me after we got married―a 4,000-square-foot loft in a converted 1920s industrial building, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking all of lower Manhattan. Only my name was on the deed.

It was part of the prenup. His legal team spent three months drafting the two-hundred-page document.

I bolted the door and the first thing I did was text my private doctor.

Need a full cancer screening. Tomorrow morning, if possible. Paying cash.

At 2:30 a.m., she replied.

There's an opening at Memorial Sloan Kettering at 7 a.m. I'll arrange it. Is everything okay?

Memorial Sloan Kettering. The best cancer hospital in New York.

Last time, I couldn't even get in the door.

I replied: Just a check-up. Thanks, Dr. Chen.

Putting my phone down, I walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The Manhattan skyline was a sea of lights. This city never sleeps―even now, there were taxis and people on the streets.

I used to love this city. When I was at RISD, I would take the Amtrak to New York every weekend, wandering through the galleries in SoHo and the art districts in Brooklyn.

Then I gave it all up for Vince.

RISD offered me a full scholarship for my master's. I turned it down. A curator at MoMA saw my work and wanted to give me a solo show. I turned that down, too.

I spent all my time learning how to be a "proper mob boss's wife"―how to cook Italian food, how to taste wine, how to maintain a polite smile at family gatherings.

How ridiculous.

My phone suddenly buzzed.

Vince was back.

He pushed the door open, yanking off his tie, his brow furrowed with annoyance.

"What the hell was that, Ava?"

"You embarrassed me in front of everyone. Just walking out like that?"

Ever since Bella became his "special assistant," Vince had become increasingly harsh with me. He could find fault in anything I did―the coffee was too weak, the dinner too salty, the dress I was wearing "inappropriate for a family event."

In my last life, it was his change in attitude, coupled with Bella’s constant provocations, that made me lose control time and time again.

I suppressed the tightness in my chest.

"Vince, believe it or not, I'm not throwing a tantrum."

"Look." I pulled down the collar of my shirt, revealing the ligature mark already hidden by foundation. "I've already covered it up. So no, I'm not holding a grudge."

He froze for a second.

"I just need to get some sleep. That's all."

With that, I went into the bathroom and locked the door.

When I came out of the shower, Vince was gone.

But my burner phone was buzzing nonstop.

Bella.

It was her habit―whenever she was with Vince, she’d send me pictures. Using my phone as her personal photo album.

In my last life, I would break down crying or storm into Vince’s office every time I saw them.

Now, I opened the message.

The first photo: they were in the study at the estate. Vince was looking at documents, and Bella was standing behind him, her hands on his shoulders.

The second: in the car, Bella taking a selfie while Vince drove.

The third: Bella holding a champagne glass, with the estate's terrace in the background.

I calmly typed back.

Wrong angle. The shadow on his left cheek is more flattering. Hold the phone higher.

And there's too much empty space in the second one. Makes you two look distant.

A few seconds later, Bella replied.

Did someone hack your account???

I sent a smiley face emoji.

Nope. Just a friendly tip―Vince is all yours now.

I closed the chat.

Then I blocked her.

Putting my phone down, I felt a wave of relief I’d never felt before.

This love triangle was fine by me: I wanted the status of being the Costello family matriarch and the unlimited AmEx Black Card. As for Vince's body and soul, Bella could have them.

Unlike last time, when I was foolish enough to believe love could conquer all.