He Wore My Ring on Her Skin

My fiancé, Dominic Carvalho, heir to Chicago's most notorious crime family, was a ghost for four days. I found him not in a ditch, but on Instagram, tangled in the sheets of a Peninsula suite with his ex. Both of them covered in hickies.

So I burned my hundred-thousand-dollar wedding dress, called off the engagement, and told him to get the hell out of my life.

For four days, Dominic, who usually smothered me with attention, was a ghost.

My calls went to voicemail, my texts were left unread.

I was sick with worry, convinced he’d been snatched by a rival family.

I had my father’s men scouring the city for him.

Then I saw the Instagram story from his ex, Vivienne.

A selfie. A messy bed.

Her bare shoulder. His hand on it. I knew those knuckles anywhere.

On his ring finger was the Cartier LOVE ring—one half of our one-of-a-kind engagement set.

The caption read: "He still remembers every inch of my body. Four days in heaven."

That son of a bitch.

The only thing I heard was the roar of my Lamborghini.

I floored it, heading for the top-floor suite of the Peninsula Hotel, right where Vivienne had tagged her location.

I stormed into the lobby and ran right into her.

She was stepping out of the elevator, hair still damp, lips swollen and red.

The hickey on her neck was so fresh it looked like it was still bleeding. She was dangling a set of keys. Dominic’s Ferrari keys.

Our eyes met.

She didn’t even flinch. A slow, triumphant smile spread across her face. "Sienna. Fancy seeing you here."

"Is he upstairs?" My voice was shaking.

"Mhm." She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, her voice a lazy drawl. "He's exhausted, though. Resting. You know how men can be… so wild."

She dragged out the words "exhausted" and "wild." Each one was a bullet to the chest.

"I'm sorry you had to see this," Vivienne said, stepping closer. Her voice was soft, like a snake hissing. "But some things have to end. Dominic's heart never really left me."

I stared at her smug face, bile rising in my throat.

I spun around and bolted from the hotel, nearly throwing up in the fountain out front.

We met three years ago. A family thing. He pursued me like a man possessed.

He was gentle, thoughtful, and treated me like a princess. All of Chicago knew it.

He even let me run a stupid, sappy social media account for us—documenting our perfect life to feed my vanity.

I thought I was his everything.

Turns out, his vows were worthless.

I tore through the streets of Chicago, trying to outrun the humiliation.

When I got home late that night, Dominic was already there.

He was standing in the living room, holding a huge bouquet of white roses. My favorite.

He looked impossibly handsome in his suit, like a god, but his eyes were tired.

"Baby, I'm so sorry I made you worry." He moved to kiss my forehead. I turned my head away.

I could smell it on him. Vivienne's jasmine perfume.

"Closing a family deal? In a bed at the Peninsula?" I asked, my voice ice.

His face froze. Panic flashed in his eyes, quickly replaced by something darker, more complicated. "Sienna, listen to me. It's not what you think."

"Not what I think?" I laughed, a bitter, ugly sound. "Then tell me what it is. Is Vivienne's Instagram lying? Am I blind?"

"It's complicated." He tried to take my hand, his voice strained. "I can't explain everything right now. Telling you would put you in danger. You have to trust me. Please."

"Danger?" I yanked my hand away. It was the lamest excuse I'd ever heard. "Dominic, you spent four days and three nights in a hotel suite with your ex. And now you're telling me you can't explain because you're protecting me? Do you think I'm stupid?"

"No!" His voice cracked, full of pain. "I admit I made a mistake. A terrible one. But Vivienne is the past. You are my future. Sienna, I love you. I really do. I'll handle this... and I'll make it right."

"You love me?" I laughed again, tears stinging my eyes. "Is this your love? Four days in her bed? And then feeding me this bullshit?"

"It's not bullshit—"

"Enough." I walked to the drawer and pulled it open.

An envelope sat inside. My acceptance letter to the Paris College of Art. Full ride.

I’d shoved it in here and forgotten about it. For him.

I grabbed it and tore it to shreds right in front of him.

Then I pulled the six-carat diamond off my finger and threw it on the coffee table.

It made a cold, sickening sound.

"We're done."

Dominic stared, his face a mask of disbelief. "What did you say?"

"The engagement is off. Now, get the hell out of my house."

"Over a misunderstanding?" He stepped closer, his handsome face filled with hurt. "Sienna, don't do this. Don't throw away everything we have. We love each other..."

"Don't you dare say that word to me again." I stared at the face I once adored. "Get. Out."

Dominic froze. He saw the look in my eyes, and the pain on his face hardened into a cold disappointment.

He didn't argue anymore. He just gave me one last, deep look that made my heart ache.

Then he turned and slammed the door on his way out. The roar of his engine faded into the night.

After he left, I lost it. I threw all of his things into trash bags—his custom suits, his Patek Philippe watches, his entire collection of rare cigars. Everything.

But it wasn't enough.

From the back of my closet, I dragged out the Vera Wang wedding dress.

One hundred thousand dollars. A dream I once couldn't wait to live.

I dragged it onto the balcony and took out a lighter.

The flame kissed the silk, and my white dream turned to ash.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

I looked through the peephole. It was Dominic, holding takeout from my favorite Italian place.

I opened the door.

The apology died on his lips the moment he saw the black smoke billowing from my balcony.

His face went white.

"What are you burning?" He pushed past me and ran onto the balcony.

He saw the charred remains of the dress and spun around, his voice shaking. "You burned the dress? Sienna... that was our future. Don't you think you're taking this too far?!"

"There is no 'us' anymore," I said calmly.

"You're really calling it off?" He stared at me, his eyes full of shattered pain. "Over a... a misunderstanding?"

I looked right at him. "No. For myself."

I shut the door in his face. Locked it. Slid the chain across.

I could hear him pounding on the door, his raw, guttural yells full of a pain he deserved.

But I was never opening that door for him again.