Chapter 3

Once I accepted the offer, I started packing.

That was when I realized something. The family estate was massive, filled with luxury cars and designer watches, but none of it was mine.

In the eight months I lived here, I brought only myself and my clothes. Nobody treated me like the real lady of the house. Even the maids shoved my clothes into the hardest-to-reach corner of the closet.

Unlike Sienna. She still had her own walk-in closet in the main house.

So packing took almost no effort at all.

I was putting a few important art catalogs into my suitcase when the bedroom door burst open.

Dominic was back. The room instantly filled with a strong smell of peach perfume. It was Sienna's favorite custom scent, sickly sweet and nauseating.

He paused when he saw me packing.

"Sienna stayed out shopping too late yesterday and got stuck in downtown traffic, so she got a room at a luxury hotel." Dominic unbuttoned his cufflinks in a rush, unprompted excuses spilling from his mouth. "She was scared to be alone, so I stayed in the suite next door all night."

"Oh." I turned around and kept packing my art tools without even looking up.

Dominic's brow furrowed deep. He stared at my face, trying to find a single trace of anger, jealousy, or heartbreak.

He found nothing.

"Aria, don't talk to me in that tone," he warned, his voice hardening. "She was emotionally unstable last night. Nothing happened between us."

"I know," I turned and met his eyes. "So you don't need to explain."

My deadpan reaction choked the words right out of his throat. His eyes quickly moved down, landing on the large 28-inch suitcase at my feet.

"Why are you packing?" His voice dropped instantly.

"Going out of town to source some paintings." I bent over and zipped up the inner pocket. "Routine business trip."

The moment he heard "routine business trip," his tense jaw visibly relaxed.

"Go ahead. Take two extra bodyguards." He didn't even bother asking where I was going or which gallery I was visiting. He turned and rushed toward the vanity.

He pulled open the hidden drawer at the bottom and pulled out a sleek black velvet box. It was a top-tier diamond necklace he commissioned from a French master jeweler last month for Sienna's 21st birthday.

"I have something urgent. I gotta run." He clutched the box like a fragile piece of treasure. He didn't even give me a second glance before rushing out of the bedroom.

He slammed the heavy oak door shut behind him with a deafening bang,making the walls shake.

Right after he left, a loud, shattering sound broke the dead silence of the room.

Our giant wedding portrait, hanging on the bedroom wall for eight full months, slammed onto the hard marble floor.

The glass frame shattered completely, sending sharp shards flying everywhere.

The maids rushed over, nervously asking if I was hurt. I shook my head.

The butler ran in and promised to get it reframed right away. "Miss Sienna came by a few days ago and said she wanted to test the frame quality. She pulled out 15 of the 16 wall anchors... and the Don let her..."

He looked at me with an awkward expression.

Usually, I would have lost my mind. But now, I just froze there, staring down at the painting.

In the portrait, I wore my favorite wedding dress, laughing freely and happily. Dominic stood in his custom suit, holding me tight, his icy-blue eyes focused on me like I was his entire world.

Now, the broken glass slashed a jagged, ugly scar right across his affectionate face, mocking every bit of pain I swallowed over the last eight months.

I slowly walked over and kneeled down.

I put on a pair of leather work gloves and turned to the butler. "Got scissors?"

Then, with one sharp slice, I cut the six-figure painting right down the middle.

"Throw it out. We don't need it."

With that, I tossed the scissors into the trash with the sliced canvas, dumping the very last piece of my love without looking back.