Chapter 2

The next morning, before the fog had even lifted over New York, I started packing.

Most of the expensive dresses in my closet were there to match Dominic's social events. I didn't touch a single one. I only folded a few sharp black shirts into my suitcase.

Halfway through packing, I heard footsteps in the hallway.

Dominic pushed the door open. He was still wearing his black suit, exhaustion written between his brows.

But when he got close, that heavy, sickly sweet, aggressive perfume smell exploded in the air like an invisible slap across my face.

That was Mia's scent.

Dominic used to always say he had scent allergies. He wouldn't let me use anything with fragrance in the house.

To accommodate him, for eight years I'd only bought unscented skincare products.

Now it was clear, I thought. His so-called "allergy" was just selective targeting. Against me.

"Mia sobered up too late last night. She kept complaining about her wound hurting. I got a hotel room to stay with her. Didn't come home." He looked at the suitcase on the floor and, for the first time ever, explained where he'd been.

I didn't stop what I was doing. I just nodded calmly. "Got it."

He walked up to me and stared down at the open suitcase. "Packing for a business trip?"

"Something like that. Going to handle some old bad debts in offshore accounts. Meet with some informants in Europe." My tone was professional and detached.

He believed it.

In his eyes, I'd long since become the most obedient cog in the Moretti family's power machine. As long as I was still working for his empire, I'd never escape his control.

"I just came back to grab something. Won't stay for lunch. Mia has a follow-up appointment this afternoon." He walked straight to the safe in the corner of the bedroom.

The metal combination lock clicked. He grabbed a red velvet jewelry pouch from inside, shoved it into his suit pocket, and hurried out.

The door slammed shut.

The moment it closed, the photo frame that had hung in the entryway for eight years shook loose and crashed onto the tile floor, shattering into pieces.

I crouched down and stared at the broken glass.

That was our photo from our first date in Sicily. Dominic had knelt on the beach in front of a cross and sworn that every year on this day, no matter what happened, he'd ignore everything else and spend our anniversary with me alone.

But ever since Mia appeared, he'd even forgotten what day it was.

I threw the broken glass into the trash without expression. The glass had cut through our faces in the photo. I didn't hesitate. I tossed it all out with the garbage.

---

That evening, my best friend Sophia's calls came bombing through.

"Elena! You need to check Mia's post right now!"

I opened my phone.

In Mia's latest selfie, she was wearing a limited edition Patek Philippe diamond watch. In her other hand, she was showing off that red velvet pouch Dominic had taken at noon.

He'd rushed back home, not to check on me with my high fever, but to grab what should've been the "Don's wife" custom gift and use it to spoil his new girl.

Mia's caption was deliberately provocative: "Three-year anniversary. So grateful for you. Happy anniversary, Dom!"

Three years? I stared at the calendar. My hands went cold.

Today was the three-year anniversary of Dominic bringing Mia into the business. But it was also the three-year anniversary of our wedding at the cathedral.

He'd taken my gift. He'd forgotten my day. On our anniversary, he was celebrating with another woman.

"He doesn't need a divorce because he never signed that document in the first place," I told Sophia on the other end of the line. "There was never a legal relationship between us."

---

At eleven at night, Dominic came home with the cold air clinging to him. Out of habit, he took off his coat and held it out toward me, expecting me to hang it up for him.

I stayed seated. Didn't move. His hand froze in midair. His eyes swept toward the entryway. On the wall where that huge photo used to hang, there was now only a square white mark.

Dominic froze in place. For the first time, panic showed in his eyes.

"Elena... where's the photo?"