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Chapter 2

Author: Dimple M
Two seconds of silence on the line.

Then, a cold laugh from Rocco.

"Got some nerve, Ava. Now you're using divorce to threaten me for money?"

His voice was dripping with casual scorn.

"I've been paying your brother's medical bills for years. If you want him to live, you'll behave."

Suddenly, Bianca's syrupy voice moaned in the background.

She whined, "Rocco, pay attention to me... I want more..."

Click.

He hung up.

I clutched the phone.

I didn't even get a chance to speak.

He didn't know.

Leo was already dead.

I was completely alone in this world.

An orphan.

No one left to sell my dignity for.

My chest felt like it was being ripped open.

I opened my bag.

Took out a folding knife.

A gift from Rocco, five years ago.

When we were first in love.

For protection, he’d said.

I flicked the blade open.

Pressed it to my own neck.

I hissed at the bodyguard, "Move."

The tip broke the skin.

A drop of blood trickled down my neck.

He jumped, taking two steps back.

I shoved past him.

Stormed into the club.

Straight for the penthouse suite.

The door was ajar.

I kicked it open.

The room stank of sex.

Bianca was straddling Rocco's lap, her arms draped around his neck.

They were still connected.

Right there in the open.

His chest and neck were covered in fresh bite marks.

My eyes moved up.

My breath caught.

Around Bianca’s neck was a silver chain.

I had stayed up for nights designing it.

Made it for Rocco with my own hands.

He used to touch my head and say it was a symbol of my love.

That he'd wear it forever.

Cherish it.

Now, it swung from Bianca's collarbone as she moved.

A blinding, ugly sight.

At the sound of the door crashing open, Rocco whipped his head around.

His face changed when he saw me.

Furious, he pulled out of Bianca.

Grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist.

He roared, pointing at the door, "Who let you in? Get out!"

A guard stepped in, eyes glued to the floor.

The guard stammered, "Boss, she pulled a blade on herself. I couldn't touch her."

Rocco's gaze finally landed on my neck.

He saw the bleeding cut.

A flicker of something—something complicated—crossed his eyes.

He froze for a second.

But it vanished just as quickly.

His face hardened.

He asked coldly, "And that's your excuse to barge in and interrupt me?"

A bitter taste filled my mouth.

I pulled the divorce papers from my bag.

Held them out.

I demanded, "Just sign it. I won't take up much of your time."

Rocco glanced at the bold letters on the page.

The next second, he snatched the papers.

Tore them to shreds.

The pieces rained down on the red carpet.

"I don't like this method of asking for money."

Bianca wrapped a sheet around herself.

She chimed in maliciously, "Baby, toss the beggar some cash and kick her out."

A smirk played on Rocco’s lips.

He walked to the low table.

Grabbed a thick stack of cash.

Smack.

He threw it in my face.

He commanded, "Take it."

He watched the bills flutter to the floor.

He added, "And stop threatening to die every time you want money."

I stared at the cash on the ground.

I didn't move.

I met his eyes and didn't back down, "I don't want money. I want a divorce."

His face darkened completely.

He sneered, "You're just something I bought. What right do you have to ask for a divorce?"

He grabbed the collar of my shirt.

Dragged me to the desk.

Pinned me against it.

His back blocked Bianca's view.

He asked, his voice low and dangerous, "Don't want money? You want something else, then?"

He added,

"Fine. I'll give it to you."

He ordered without turning, "Both of you, get out."

The bodyguard fled, closing the door.

Bianca took the hint and left too.

The room was quiet.

Rocco bent down.

He kissed me.

It was a punishing kiss.

But it was also tempting. Seductive.

His tongue forced its way past my teeth.

That familiar scent enveloped me.

For a split second, I felt like I was back five years ago.

Just a normal couple, deeply in love.

But it was only a second.

The image of Leo under a white sheet flashed in my mind.

The image of Rocco and Bianca.

Nausea rose in my throat.

I shoved him away. Hard.

I yelled, "I told you. I don't want anything. I want a divorce."

Rocco stumbled back a step.

The lust in his eyes turned to pure rage.

His eyes turned red.

He roared, "What the hell are you pretending at?"
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