Chapter 2

(Domenica) POV:

The yellow cab pulled up in front of the black wrought-iron gates of the White family's hillside estate. I paid the fare, pushed the door open, and stepped out, my leather boots splashing into the puddles on the asphalt.

The gate guard saw it was me. He didn't even bother checking my access card; he just curled his lip in disdain and lazily pressed the release button.

I ignored his contempt, walking straight across the manicured lawn toward the brightly lit vintage villa.

When I pushed open the front doors, the maid sweeping the living room glanced up, didn't even bother to call me "Madam," and went right back to her floor.

I paid no mind to these clowns. I walked straight up to the second floor and pushed open the doors to the master bedroom—a room filled with three years of hypocrisy and lies.

Pulling a black suitcase from the back of the closet, I began packing the few simple clothes that actually belonged to me.

Downstairs, the roar of a sports car engine ended in a screech of tires. The furious man had rushed home.

Heavy, chaotic footsteps pounded down the hallway. The bedroom door flew open with a loud bang, and Curtis stood in the doorway, panting hard.

A muscle twitched near his eye when he saw the suitcase on the floor. He strode inside and slammed his hand down over mine to stop me from folding my coat.

"Domenica, have you had enough of this tantrum? Splashing coffee on Brant wasn't enough, and now you're playing the runaway wife game?" he snapped, his voice dripping with impatient condescension.

I yanked my hand back, pulled a wet wipe from my pocket, and wiped my fingertips one by one, moving slowly to make sure he saw my disgust.

The gesture set him off completely. Curtis stepped closer, trying to tower over me to force me into submission.

I reached into my handbag and pulled out the agreement Carlisle's legal team had rushed over the moment I left Apex Tower.

"Sign it. That'll clear the rotten debt between us."

Curtis fumbled to catch the sliding papers. His pupils shrank the second his eyes hit the bold black letters at the top: DIVORCE AGREEMENT.

"Divorce? You're divorcing me?"

He let out a twisted laugh as if he had just heard the joke of the year, then hurled the papers onto the floor and pointed a shaking finger at my nose.

"You're a bottom-feeder who drives an Uber! Without me, you don't even have what it takes to survive in Los Angeles!"

"Is that so? Then let's see who actually can't survive," I said, bending down to pick up the agreement and holding it out to him again without blinking.

Seeing the resolve in my eyes, Curtis realized I wasn't playing hard to get. Panic flashed across his face, and his tone softened instantly.

"Domenica, calm down. Think about how my family took you in for the last three years," he said, trying to guilt-trip me. "I'm at a critical stage in connecting with Apex Group's top executives. I cannot afford a divorce scandal right now."

Watching him switch masks so shamelessly for his own made my stomach churn.

I shoved his shoulder hard. Caught off guard, he stumbled back half a step and slammed his back against the wardrobe door.

"Curtis, your pathetic pride isn't worth a cent to me."

I pulled up the handle of my suitcase, its wheels rolling crisply across the hardwood floor.

Seeing that neither threats nor sweet talk worked, Curtis dropped all pretense. He lunged forward to grab my suitcase handle, trying to keep me there by force.

My gaze turned icy. Gripping the handle with my right hand, I drove my left elbow straight back into his ribs.

Curtis let out a shrill cry and doubled over, clutching his side and gasping for air, completely stripped of the strength to block my way.

I stepped right over his curled-up body, walked out of the bedroom, and headed down the stairs without looking back.

The maids in the living room stood frozen, staring with wide eyes as I carried my suitcase down the grand staircase.

At the front doors, I paused and glanced back at the luxurious cage that had trapped me for three years.

"Tell your master my lawyer will send the agreement to his office. If he doesn't sign, I'll sue him until his name is mud."

I pulled the heavy doors open, stepped into the Los Angeles night, and slammed them shut behind me, the echo booming through the yard.

Standing outside the gates, I pulled out my encrypted phone and sent a brief text to Carlisle: Launch a full financial audit on Curtis White immediately.