2

I walked out of the estate and flagged down a taxi.

The driver saw how pale I was and asked, "Ma'am, should I call the police or take you to a hospital?"

"No. I'm going to get a divorce."

At the Cavallaro family's law firm, Gordon, the lawyer, checked Vittorio's signature and seal.

"Ms. Moretti, under the addendum, your marriage to Don Cavallaro will end, and you'll give up all property."

"I know."

Once Gordon stamped the papers, he handed them back to me.

"It's done. It'll be official next Monday."

Outside, it had started pouring.

I'd barely stepped out of the law firm when two cars screeched to a stop in front of me.

They were Dante's men.

One of them held a phone to my ear. Dante's voice came through, tight with barely contained rage.

"You went running to the family's law firm to make a scene about a divorce? Did you want to make sure I'd hear about it?

"Fine. Then get back to the estate right now and clear out your things. Camilla's moving in tonight."

He hung up.

I'd been planning to go back anyway.

My mother's last keepsake and my father's transfer papers were locked in the master bedroom.

Without those papers, the medical team in Switzerland couldn't move him.

The car stopped outside the estate's iron gates.

The bodyguards at the gate sneered.

"The Don's orders. Since you want a divorce, you don't get to drive in anymore.

"You can walk. And while you're out here, why don't you stand in the rain and clear your head?"

I stood in the rain for two hours, soaked to the skin.

It wasn't until my vision started going black that the gate opened a crack.

I dragged myself to the master bedroom.

It had already been torn apart.

A fire roared in the fireplace. My vanity had been pried open, and my clothes lay all over the floor.

Camilla was lying on the couch, painting her nails.

My mother's sapphire necklace dangled from her hand. My father's transfer papers lay scattered on the floor, torn to shreds.

She saw what a mess I was and snorted.

"Well, well. The Donna actually came back to clean up her trash?"

She took her time getting up and strolled over to the fireplace.

"Trash like that belongs in the fire."

With that, she let go. The necklace dropped into the fire.

My face blank, I walked to the fireplace, picked up the tongs, and tried to fish the cracked necklace out of the flames.

My indifference hit Camilla like a slap in the face.

She'd counted on me losing control and clawing her face so that Dante, who'd just pulled up, would catch me red-handed.

When I didn't even look at her, Camilla grabbed the cigar cutter off the table and sliced her own arm open.

Then she threw herself on the floor and screamed.

"Dante, help me! I was just trying to help your wife pack. Why did she cut my arm with the fire tongs...?"

Dante kicked the door open and stormed in.

There was blood all over the floor.

Camilla sobbing.

And there I stood in front of the fireplace, iron tongs in hand.

"Elena!"

Dante slapped me hard.

I fell, and my forehead slammed into the mantel. Blood poured into my eyes.

Between the fever and the pain, I couldn't even push myself up.

Camilla crawled into Dante's arms, crying.

"Dante, will I ever be able to use my arm again? It hurts so much..."

Dante picked Camilla up.

"The minute I'm gone, you go after Camilla. You're as vicious as ever!"

I struggled to wipe the blood from my eyes and looked at him.

"I never laid a finger on her."

"You think I'd believe you?" Dante sneered. "Since you love seeing blood so much, don't blame me for what happens next."

He turned and gave his men an order.

"Call the care home. Bring the entire medical team caring for old Moretti and all their equipment back to the estate.

"Camilla's lost blood and she's in shock. Have them watch her tonight."

My father needed that life-support equipment to stay alive. Without it, he wouldn't last ten minutes.

"Dante! No!"

I scrambled across the floor and grabbed the leg of his pants.

"Do whatever you want to me. Kill me if you want. But if you take the machines, he won't survive. Please, spare him!"

In five years, I'd never begged him on my knees before.

Not when he pushed me down the stairs and I lost the baby. Not when I nearly froze to death in that freezer.

I'd never thrown away my dignity like this.

Dante stared at my bloody hand clutching his pants. He swallowed hard, and for a moment he looked shaken.

But then Camilla let out a moan of pain, and her whole body started twitching.

Dante's face hardened again.

"Whether he lives or dies depends on whether Camilla ends up with a scar on her arm."

He carried Camilla out without looking back, his voice echoing down the hallway.

"Drag her up to the top floor and lock her in. No one gives her water or medicine. Let her think about what she did!"