003 — A STORM OF EMOTIONS

VIOLA

I'm frozen to the spot, my ears ringing as I stare at Corina. Trembling, I take a step backwards.

Her baby? She's... pregnant?

What have I done?

Fiorella bursts into tears, clinging to my neck. I stumble against the bannister, holding her tightly as I stare at Corina.

The memory of lying at the bottom of these same stairs, unable to feel my legs, flashes through my mind, and tears blur my vision.

I prevented it. So why...why do I feel worse?

"Corina?"

Cosimo rushes out of the bedroom. He takes one look at Corina and hurries down the stairs, pulling out his phone.

"Arturo! Get an ambulance here. Now!"

"Cosimo..." Corina groans, struggling to sit up.

"Don't move." He crouches beside her. "Where does it hurt?"

She starts crying, one hand pressed against her stomach.

"She pushed me," she sobs. "Viola pushed me!"

"What?" I stare at her in disbelief. "You grabbed me! I was holding Fiorella!"

Corina ignores me, clutching Cosimo's arm as her crying grows louder.

My chest heaves as Cosimo's gaze meets mine. And for a moment, the words linger at the tip of my tongue.

Believe me. Please. I'm not a monster.

Then I remember that he's not worth it. Swallowing my emotions, I turn away. Several footsteps rush towards the stairs.

"Viola!" My breath hitches at the sound of my husband's thunderous voice.

But I don't stop. Not even when I hear him swear, asking me to wait.

With a shaky hand, I stroke my baby's hair, trying to get her to calm down. Her little body shakes with every sob, and I hold her tighter, terrified that she'll make herself sick.

"Shhh, it's okay. Everything's okay," I say, hoisting her on my hip while I prepare her bath.

I don't realize that I'm crying until my vision blurs. With unsteady hands, I undress my little girl and set her in her bath.

Her cries die down as I start to wash her. But I can barely breathe. The guilt won't leave me. I did nothing wrong. So, why?

"Mama?" Fio says, stretching her arms for a hug.

Oh, my sweet girl. She's only three, and still, she's such a caring little human. I can't believe she's here.

Another sob tears out of me as I lean into her tiny embrace.

"Lillà."

I freeze at the sound of Cosimo's voice from the door behind me.

"Lillà."

I reach for Fiorella's strawberry-scented shampoo and squeeze a little into my palm.

"Sweetheart, close your eyes for Mama."

Fiorella obediently squeezes her eyes shut, scrunching her little face as I work the shampoo through her curls.

Behind me, Cosimo exhales. "Viola, please look at me."

"I'm bathing our daughter, Cosimo. Surely you can see that."

"I can."

"Then what do you want?"

He doesn't answer immediately. I hear him move farther into the bathroom.

"Corina's been taken to the hospital," he finally says. "Arturo went with her."

My fingers pause in Fiorella's hair. "And the baby?"

A lump forms in my throat. "Is she going to lose it?"

"I don't know, Viola. The doctors will examine her."

My stomach twists. I resent Corina. But the thought of her losing her unborn child makes me feel physically sick. Especially when I remember how my own daughter died.

I carefully rinse the shampoo from Fio's hair, shielding her forehead with my palm.

Cosimo speaks again. "I spoke to the housekeeper. She saw Corina grab your arm."

I stiffen.

What?

"She was coming up the stairs with some towels," he continues. "She saw what happened."

I stare at the bubbles floating around Fiorella's little legs. In my previous life, nobody had believed me. Cosimo had accused me of causing unnecessary trouble.

I'd cried myself to sleep that night. And now he's standing behind me, telling me there's a witness.

"Viola?"

I reach for Fiorella's rubber duck and hand it to her. She immediately starts making quacking noises. I pick up Fiorella's washcloth and gently wash her body.

"Last night was a mistake," Cosimo says eventually. "Corina called because she was frightened. Enzo wasn't answering his phone, and—"

"Please don't," I grit out.

Fiorella looks up at me, her big amber eyes widening.

"Mama?"

I force a smile. "It's okay, sweetheart. Let's get you out before you turn into a little fish."

She giggles. I pull the plug and reach for her enormous pink towel, lifting her from the bathtub and wrapping her securely in it.

Cosimo steps forward. "Let me help."

"I've got her."

"Viola—"

"I said I've got her!"

Fiorella flinches. And I immediately hate myself.

"Oh, baby." I kiss her wet forehead. "Mama's sorry. I didn't mean to shout."

Her little arms wind around my neck. "It's okay, Mama."

My heart feels like it's being squeezed. I carry her to the dressing table and sit her on the padded stool, drying her with a towel.

Cosimo remains near the bathtub. "Viola, I know I've made mistakes. But I never intended to make you feel—"

"Unimportant? Replaceable?" I say. "Like some inconvenient woman you married while waiting for the person you actually wanted?"

"That's not true."

I finally look at him through the mirror. His eyes are fixed on me, his jaw clenched.

I kiss Fio's cheek after getting her dressed. "Why don't you go find Pickles? Mama needs to speak to Papa."

She toddles towards the adjoining bedroom, dragging her favourite pink blanket behind her. I wait until she's safely through the doorway. Then I turn around.

Cosimo straightens immediately. "Viola, whatever this is, we can fix it."

I look at the man standing before me.

My husband. The father of my child. The first man I ever loved. And the man whose indifference had destroyed me.

My throat burns, but my voice is surprisingly steady when I finally speak.

"I want a divorce."

At that exact moment, the bathroom door swings open.

"What?"

Shit. I’d forgotten that my mother-in-law had slept over last night.

Ottavia Domenico stands in the doorway, one hand pressed against her chest. She's wearing an elegant blue dress, her silver-streaked hair swept into its usual immaculate bun.

Her horrified gaze moves from me to Cosimo. "Viola, darling, what did you just say?"

"Mamma," Cosimo says sharply. "Not now."

But Ottavia barely looks at him. Her eyes remain fixed on me, filling with disbelief.

"Divorce?" she whispers. "Sweetheart, why would you want a divorce?"

I clench my fists.

Ottavia has always treated me like the daughter she never had. She loves Fiorella more than anything. And I know this is going to hurt her.

"I'm sorry, Mamma," I whisper. "But I can't do this anymore."

"Do what, darling?"

I look at Cosimo. He's staring at me now, dazed. Maybe now he understands how it feels.

"I'm done sharing my husband," I say, my voice trembling despite my efforts to control it. "Corina can have you."

"Viola—"

"You want her, right?" I interrupt. "Do everyone a favour and process the divorce as soon as possible."

Ottavia gasps. "Viola!"

But I keep my eyes on Cosimo.

I'm prepared for his anger. For that cold, dismissive expression he wears whenever I challenge him. Perhaps he'll even laugh and remind me that nobody divorces a Domenico.

I brace myself.

Cosimo takes one step towards me. Then another.

His face is colourless now.

"Cosimo?" Ottavia whispers.

He doesn't seem to hear her.

"Lillà." His deep voice cracks. "Please."

My heart thuds painfully. Please?

I open my mouth, but before I can speak, Cosimo takes a step towards me. His knees buckle.

I watch with wide eyes as he falls to his knees. Right in front of me.