Love is His Slow Poison

1.

On the way to our eighteenth attempt at finalizing our divorce, Dante Moretti ghosted me. Again.

I was standing on the steps of the New York courthouse when I got the same old text from him.

"Something came up. Another time."

That day, I just stared blankly at the red-circled date on my calendar.

I was done wasting my life on this god-awful marriage.

After a long pause, I took out my phone and calmly typed a few words.

"Isn't she pregnant again?"

"Dante, you already have an heir. For