Chapter 3

Clarissa

“Of course I did,” I snapped. “I may have played your wife, but I’m not stupid.”

Sasha, who was still sitting dramatically on the floor like a wounded deer, looked between us like she’d missed a crucial plot twist.

“That envelope,” I said, stepping closer, “has every clause, every signature, every disgusting little term you shoved down my throat seven years ago. And it expires in two days.”

Nicho’s eyes locked with mine. No more shouting. No more rage.

While Nicho and Sasha both watched me in disbelief, I pulled my phone up and dialed Dante's number. Dante had been my friend since childhood and he knew every single thing I've been through. 

He hated how we lost contact and we only got in touch a few years after I and Hudaosn got married. He always hated that he wasn't there to help and prevent me from getting married to a soulless man. 

The phone barely rang twice before Dante picked up.

“Cass?” He called out calmly.

“I need you,” I said to him with a firm tone. No tears, no shakiness.  “Now.”

“I’m already on my way,” he replied, no questions asked. That’s just who Dante was—always showing up without asking why.

I ended the call and sat on the edge of my bed, the box beside me was half-packed with clothes. My fingers trembled a little as I folded the last sweater and placed it on top. That tiny motion felt like rebellion. Like breathing for the first time after being underwater too long.

Five minutes later—maybe less—he knocked once and let himself in. That’s how tight we’d always been. He had been waiting for this moment since forever. 

Dante stepped in like he belonged there. He was more than ready to out Nicho in his place if he tried anything funny. His hair was a mess, like he’d run his fingers through it five times before getting to me. Still smelled faintly like citrus and woodsy cologne. It was comforting, not overbearing.

“Where’s the bastard?” he asked, eyes scanning the room like he was ready to swing.

“Upstairs,” I muttered, grabbing the handle of my box. He got to it first, lifting it like it weighed nothing.

Nicho had left to his room with Sasha because he believed I wasn't bold enough to leave. 

“Of course he is,” Dante muttered. “Cowards love elevation.”

A small, ridiculous smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. That was Dante—always ready with a joke, even when everything around me was burning.

We headed toward the door. I heard Nicho come down the stairs. He must have heard movement in the house and realized I was really leaving. I didn’t give the house a final glance. I’d already mourned what could’ve been. I paused only once—just to give him the line I knew he needed to hear.

“Make sure you sign the divorce papers when the contract expires, Nicho,” I said without looking back.

Nicho stood at the top of the stairs, shirt undone, eyes wide. Like I’d slapped him. He didn’t move. He just… stared. Like I’d grown wings and fangs all at once.

Yeah. That’s right. Stand there and watch me leave. I think what rattled him most wasn’t what I said. It was that I finally had the guts to say it. That for once, I wasn’t begging, crying, or asking why. I was just… done.

Dante opened the car door for me. A black SUV, the engine was still running, like he came ready to whisk me away from a heist. I slid in, and he closed the door. 

“Are you alright?” he asked once we pulled out of the driveway.

I exhaled. “I will be.”

Dante nodded, keeping one hand on the wheel. “You didn’t tell me he was choking you, Cass.”

“I didn’t tell you a lot of things.” I stared out the window, not really seeing the trees blur past. “I didn’t want you to get into trouble.”

He stayed quiet for a moment. Then, “You’ve always protected everyone but yourself.”

That made something sharp twist in my chest. It wasn’t even an accusation. It was just… truth. The drive wasn’t too long. Thirty minutes, maybe. But it felt like I was being driven into a whole new life. One that didn’t have Nicho’s shadow in it.

We pulled into a quiet neighborhood tucked away from the chaos. Simple buildings. Brick walls. A few potted plants on porches. It was safe, hidden, and perfect.

“Apartment 2B,” Dante said as he parked. “I didn’t get you anything fancy. Just quiet. Secure. Lease is in your name.”

I looked over at him, and for the first time that night, let some of the gratitude show on my face. “Thank you, Dante. For all of this. For showing up.”

“You never have to thank me, Cass. You’ve had my back since we were kids. I’m just trying to return the favor.”

He got out first, lifted the box again, and led the way up the stairs. I followed behind, each step feeling a little lighter.

The apartment was small, but it was mine. Pale walls. A clean couch. A kitchen with just enough space for one person to breathe. There was a faint smell of lemon cleaning spray—he must’ve come earlier to get it ready.

“This place smells like you,” I said, smirking.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t let you walk into dust and dead roaches. Thought I’d scrub the sadness out of it a bit.”

“Mission accomplished.”

He dropped the box on the floor and straightened up, brushing his hands against his jeans.

“I stocked the fridge,” he added casually. “Just essentials. Milk, eggs, water, three kinds of chocolate, and a bottle of that soda you used to sneak into my backpack in middle school.”

I laughed. Actually I laughed. It was quiet and unexpected, like my voice wasn’t sure if it was allowed to feel joy again.

He turned serious then. “You’re gonna be okay here. You don’t have to rush anything. Just breathe. Eat. Sleep. Let yourself exist without fear.”

“I haven’t done that in a long time,” I admitted, voice cracking slightly.

“Well, start now.”

I moved to the window and peeked outside. Streetlights. A parked bike. No chaos. No screaming. No Nicho.

“I want to start over,” I whispered, mostly to myself. “But I don’t know who I am without him.”