Chapter 2

The door to the Manhattan penthouse swung open to reveal a cold, empty space.

I had dismissed the housekeeping staff six months ago.

A sharp pain shot through me, a vein throbbing in my forehead. I fumbled in my purse for the bottle of pills, shaking out a handful and swallowing them dry, not even bothering to count.

I collapsed onto the cold marble floor, the chill seeping into my bones as tears streamed down my face.

Eleanor, how the hell did your life end up like this?

This endless marriage had worn me down, leaving me exhausted and hollow.

Now, even my own body felt like it was giving up.

The lock clicked. My heart jumped.

This was my home, and no one ever came here but me.

A bitter laugh was still on my lips when the door opened and Dante stepped inside, silhouetted against the light.

He just stood there, watching me, saying nothing.

I finally managed to push myself into a sitting position, carefully hiding the pill bottle back in my purse.

Not that he would care even if he saw it.

Just like now. He walked right past me and sank into the sofa.

"I don't recall Miss Ricci and I being divorced yet. Did you throw out all my things?"

Months ago, I had packed up all his clothes and sent them to the villa he bought for Sarah.

The truth was, with the pain consuming me, I couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been home.

Seeing me still dazed on the floor, he strode over and pulled me into his arms.

He leaned in close, his voice a low growl.

"Eleanor. Say something."

The single mole just below his eye, the one I used to love, came into view. I turned my head away.

"Your things aren't gone. They're at your real home."

Dante exploded. He gripped my shoulders, his eyes turning a furious red.

"Three years! It's been three fucking years! What more do you want from me before you'll forgive me?"

"Eleanor, don't you see that I regret it? Don't you see I'm suffering every day, just like you?"

He grabbed my hand and pressed it against his chest, his voice laced with a desperate plea.

"Ellie, can't we just go back to how things were? Please?"

I tried to push him away, but he was too strong. I just stared at him, my eyes empty, filled with a quiet resignation.

Finally, he let go with a bitter, shaking laugh.

I rubbed my sore shoulders and picked up the sharp fruit knife from the coffee table, letting the cool steel rest in my palm.

"That’s why I’m saying, Dante, just divorce me. Then we can both be free."

Dante collapsed to the floor, laughing like a madman.

"Divorce? Not a chance. I'll lock you into the Moretti name for life. You'll spend the rest of your days watching me, Sarah, and our children be happy."

I tightened my grip on the knife, and with a slight press, the tip rested against the soft skin of my neck.

Too bad for him. He wouldn't be able to trap me for the rest of my life.

Dante’s eyes widened in horror. He lunged forward without a second thought and grabbed the blade with his bare hand.

His fingers trembled around the steel.

In the silent standoff, he was the first to break.

"Fine. I'll give you a divorce."

The towering man staggered to his feet, swaying as if he might fall at any moment.

Just as he stumbled, a small figure rushed in to support him.

It was Sarah, her head bowed, tears clinging to her eyelashes.

"I wasn't following you. But every time you come here, you leave covered in new wounds."

"I was worried."

Dante leaned his head weakly against her shoulder and closed his eyes.