ANTHONY’S POV
The pearlescent dress I had ordered from Milan was tailored to her exact measurements. I designed it myself, pulled strings, and expedited shipping from the manufacturer. The fabric was rare. The cut was perfect. Elegant, clean, regal.
I had imagined her walking in, wearing it, and for one night—just one—letting the illusion hold. Letting us both pretend.
But when she walked into the estate in that green thing… I felt my blood boil.
It wasn’t ugly. That was the worst part.
It hugged her in all the right places. The neckline draped just enough. The skirt moved with her, flowing softly over her hips as she walked. She looked like someone who knew she looked good. Someone who’d picked her dress with care.
Was it really so hard to wear the damn thing I sent?
Just one night. One night of peace. Was that too much to ask?
Sylvester could feel it, I was sure. He was sharp, even at eighty.
I hadn’t told him about the divorce. I hadn’t told him anything. Because deep down, I knew
