Chapter 2

"Grace?" My voice trembled. My eyes were dead. "What kind of grace are you talking about, Cassius?"

I stood up and looked him dead in the eye. "The kind where I wait on her hand and foot like a maid? Or the kind where she locks me in a freezing wine cellar until I catch a raging fever?"

Camilla's face paled for a second, but she quickly put her innocent mask back on.

"Scarlett, you're talking nonsense again—"

"Nonsense?" I cut her off, my voice thick with desperate anger. "You said you were teaching me about vintage wines. You locked me in that cellar for four straight hours. By the time they found me, I was half-dead from the cold."

A tear slipped out. Not for him, but for my wasted youth. For my dead baby.

I had wasted five years of my life on a monster.

Cassius rubbed his temples, annoyed, like he was dealing with a tedious business dispute. "You're too sensitive, Scarlett. The door closed on its own. Camilla already apologized. Didn't I comfort you after that?"

Comfort?

He meant his dismissive, "Be careful next time"?

Camilla let out a fake sigh. "Cassius, since Scarlett is struggling so much, maybe she shouldn't attend the syndicate galas anymore. Just so she doesn't..."

She paused, her eyes flashing with vicious triumph.

"...embarrass you."

Right then, something inside me snapped for good.

Five years. I was done with their sick, twisted games.

"You're right," I said, my voice eerily calm. "From now on, I won't attend any Famiglia events."

I turned toward the bedroom to grab the suitcase I had already packed.

But I didn't even make it to the door. Cassius lunged at me like a feral beast.

His hand clamped down on my jaw, gripping so hard I thought he would crush my bones.

His arrogant mask slipped, replaced by the sheer, unhinged fury of a man losing control.

"Take one step out that door," he snarled, his voice low and lethal. "And I will never come back for you. Are we clear?"

In that moment, I realized just how wrong I had been.

I was stupid enough to cling to our memories.

When I was sick, he never left my side. Hands that ended lives had held me so gently.

On my birthday, he would drop the Don act, watching fireworks with me and blowing out candles like a normal husband.

And the countless nights he pinned me to the mattress, taking me over and over again.

"My girl. Be with me forever," he used to promise.

Maybe we did love each other once.

But our love didn't stand a chance against the daily venom of another woman, or his deep-rooted, arrogant obsession with power.

"Cassius," I said calmly. "I want a divorce."

The air froze.

Cassius's grip loosened. He took a step back, sheer disbelief flashing in his eyes.

"What did you say?"

"A divorce," I repeated, my tone deadpan. "I'm divorcing you."

His face darkened like a gathering storm.

"You're threatening me with divorce because you don't want to learn high society rules?" His voice carried a suffocating weight. "Scarlett, I overestimated you. I thought you had a spine."

A threat?

I almost laughed. Cassius Gallo sat so high on his throne, he actually thought his love was an act of charity.

"I'm not throwing a fit," I said, my heart completely dead. "Go find a woman who's worthy of the Famiglia. Like Camilla."

I pulled out of his grasp and walked into the bedroom.

"Scarlett!" his roar echoed through the penthouse. "If you walk out that door today, you're going to regret it!"

I dragged my suitcase through the living room without giving him a second glance.

I had endured five years of a hidden marriage and endless bullying.

When I lay in a hospital bed, begging for just one grand to save our baby, he coldly refused. All because he listened to her poison and thought I was just slacking off.

Yesterday, in that freezing operating room, I lost our first child.

And he didn't even know that tiny life existed.

"Stop right there!" Cassius bellowed behind me. "You have nothing! Without me, you are nothing!"

My hand gripped the doorknob. I paused for a second.

The moment my baby died, my love for him—and the family I thought we were building—died with it.