Chapter 3

3.

Dante and I had a huge fight today, and Sarah, of course, ran straight to his parents.

They showed up while I was picking at my dinner.

I hadn't bothered to cover the mark on my neck; the thin red line was clearly visible.

Dante's mother, Isabella, glanced at it but held her tongue.

It was his father, Lorenzo, who spoke first, his voice laced with false concern.

"Why are you eating so little?"

Right. When did my appetite shrink to almost nothing?

"Because I'm dying."

Lorenzo froze, then his face darkened. He thought I was just being difficult.

"Eleanor, is that any way to speak to your elders? You've become so impossible to be around."

"No wonder Dante never comes home anymore. Who would want to?"

I didn't react, just slowly chewed the food in my mouth, unable to swallow.

Isabella, ever the elegant matriarch, finally lost her patience with my blank expression.

She shoved my plate aside and slid a check from a Swiss bank across the table.

"We came here to tell you to divorce Dante."

"You saw for yourself today. Sarah is pregnant again. A few months along. It's a girl."

The pain started again.

Why does it always hurt whenever his name comes up?

"We're getting divorced tomorrow."

Isabella scoffed.

"You've been trying for three years. When has it ever worked?"

"You had the perfect life as Mrs. Moretti, and you threw it all away. If you had just accepted the boy from the beginning, we wouldn't be in this mess."

I finally looked up, meeting her cold eyes.

"You mean I should have accepted the child he had with another woman? I should have watched him lie to me, over and over again, for that child?"

My direct gaze seemed to unnerve her. The vicious words died on her lips, and she mumbled, "With us on your side, what could you possibly lose?"

I tossed the check back at her, stood up, and showed them the door.

"Don't worry. As of tomorrow, I'll have nothing to do with Dante Moretti."