Reborn To Divorce My Ruthless Husband

VIOLA

Sweat drips into my eyes as I press the phone harder against my ear, trying to ignore the mocking laughter around me.

Please, Cosimo. Just pick up.

The call goes unanswered.

One of the kidnappers snorts. "Your husband is such a busy man, Mrs. Domenico, isn't he? He won't even pick his wife's calls."

Bile threatens to push up my throat.

There was a time when Cosimo answered before the second ring, no matter where he was. Now I can't remember the last time we spoke without arguing.

He didn't come home last night. Or the night before.

This morning, when I called to ask where he'd been, he sent me a message telling me he was busy.

I know what busy means these days.

Corina.

I close my eyes, furious with myself for thinking about her when I have much bigger problems.

I'm tied to a chair in a room without windows, one of my hands unrestrained. My handbag is gone, I've lost one shoe, and there is blood on my dress from when one of these men dragged me across the concrete outside.

I don't even know where they've brought me. And I'm sitting here wondering whether my husband is with another woman.

God, Viola. Get a grip.

I shouldn't have come alone. I should have called Zinnia, my best friend. She would have insisted on coming with me, even if I told her not to.

Instead, I followed the instructions like an idiot because I was painfully determined to find out the truth by myself. Especially without Cosimo's meddling.

The message had arrived shortly after lunch.

[Your daughter didn't die from accidental poisoning.]

I almost deleted it. But then, the next message came.

[I know who put the poison in her chocolate. I have proof.]

The police had called Fiorella's death an accident. Corina insisted she hadn't known that anything was wrong with the chocolate. Cosimo told me to stop accusing her.

But I had watched my daughter struggle to breathe while I held her on the kitchen floor, screaming for somebody to help.

I would have done anything for another chance to find out what happened. So when the stranger sent an address and a promise of evidence, I went.

I was less than ten minutes away when I was ambushed in my car. I woke up here, and now my husband won't answer his phone.

The man in front of me yanks the phone out of my grip, and my breathing quickens.

"Please let me call him once more."

"You've called enough."

"He doesn't know what's happened. If you let me explain—"

Another man enters the room, carrying a tablet. He's older than the guard, with a receding hairline and a gold chain visible above his white shirt.

He looks at me briefly. "Still nothing?"

"Unfortunately," the other men reply.

The older man clicks his tongue. "Poor thing."

I hate the pity in his voice.

"Look, I don't know what you want from me, but my husband has money. Whatever you're asking for, he can pay it."

The man blinks.

"Do you know where he's been all day?" He asks, turning the tablet towards me.

My heart starts pounding faster as I watch him unlock the screen. An image appears on the screen, and I clench my jaw.

It's Cosimo. He has his hand on Corina's waist, leading her out of a hospital. St. Augustine Private Hospital. It's where Corina has been receiving prenatal care. The photograph has today's date.

He hasn't been home in two days and yet, there he is. With her.

Corina is smiling at him. I recognize that smile too.

She used to smile at my husband, back when Enzo, her own husband, was still alive. I had been foolish enough to believe that she'd stopped wanting Cosimo.

"Your husband's been looking after this pregnant woman all afternoon," the man says. "She must be very important."

"She's his sister-in-law."

"Are you sure? It looks like she's his baby mama," he taunts, and the others burst into laughter.

I want to tell him he's disgusting. But then, I've never been able to shake off the dreadful feeling that my husband still wanted his first love.

"Why are you showing me this?" I try to stand, forgetting the rope until it cuts into my wrist. Pain shoots through my hip as my injured leg struggles to take my weight.

I drop back onto the chair with a cry.

The older man clicks his tongue. "Careful. Our benefactor needs you in good condition."

I freeze.

"What does that mean?"

He says nothing and starts to walk away, but then the phone rings out.

The first man glances at the screen and grins. "Well, look who finally remembered his wife."

I nearly sob with relief as he holds the phone to my ear.

"Cosimo!"

"Viola, what the hell do you want?"

"I've been kidnapped!" I rush out. "Some men took me off the road. I don't know where I am. Please, send Arturo!"

There's a pause.

"Is this a joke?"

My stomach caves in. "What?"

"I have footage of you entering Nate's house ten minutes ago. Don't insult my intelligence."

"That's impossible! I've been here for hours!"

"Enough, Viola. I'm tired of your games."

Surely, he doesn't really think I'm pulling a stunt—

"Cosimo, please!" My voice cracks as I struggle against the ropes. "I swear I'm not with Nate. Just ask Arturo to find my car. Please!"

He exhales impatiently. "Go home, Viola."

"No, wait! Baby, I'm scared. I-I don't want to die here!"

The call ends, and I stare at the phone, waiting for him to call back.

Surely he heard me crying. Surely he knows I wouldn't joke about something like this.

But the screen stays dark.

Blood drains from my face.

"Grab her," the older man orders.

"No! Please, I can give you money!" I struggle as two men untie me and haul me out of the chair. My injured leg buckles, but it doesn't stop them from dragging me along with them.

"Where are you taking me? Please stop! Let me go!”

They push me through a door into a brightly lit room. The sharp smell of disinfectant hits my nose, and I freeze at the sight of a surgical bed surrounded by medical equipment.

A man in scrubs stands there with another woman.

"Is this the donor?" he asks, tying his mask behind his head.

They nod, and goosebumps spread over my skin.

My eyes dart towards a cooler sitting beside the bed. Then the surgical instruments.

Oh, God.

They're going to take my organs?

“No!" I scream, struggling so hard that pain shoots through my pelvis. "Please, don't do this! My husband will pay you!"

“We've already been paid, Mrs. Domenico."

They force me onto the bed. I kick and scratch, but my injured leg is useless against them. They strap me down. The woman starts undressing me while I beg her to help me.

She won't even look at me.

“Please," I sob.

A needle pierces my arm. I jerk, but the strap holds me down. Within moments, the room begins to blur, and my cries grow weaker.

I try to fight the heaviness spreading through my body.

Then I hear footsteps outside, high heels clicking against the floor.

The door opens, and a woman steps inside. I can barely make out her dress through my blurring vision.

Corina?

Has she come to watch me die?

I desperately try to lift my head, but I can't move. Tears slide down my temples.

I wish I'd held Fiorella longer. I could have saved her.

I hope I can see her again.

My eyes close, and everything goes dark.