LOGINCINNAMON.Dante took a deep breath and then relaxed. I seized the opportunity to keep talking."She was ashamed. She didn’t want you to see her falling apart. She wanted to deal with it quietly and asked for my help, which I provided."He glanced at the signed—unsigned—document in my hands."Sign it."I studied him for a long moment before reaching for the pen in his breast pocket, clicking it open, pressing the paper against the wall, and signing my name on the bottom line. My hand remained steady.I returned it to him and placed the pen back in his hand."My intention has never been to take anything from you." My throat felt tight. "Not your money, not your business, not your son. Oliver has two parents who love him, and nothing would ever make me want to change that." I met his gaze. "I don’t know who’s painting this picture of me, but it's false. None of it is true."He remained silent."I have been mentally drowning for months while keeping Dove's secret—watching her fade away wi
CINNAMON.The bags had been ready since my return. Two suitcases and Oliver's little dinosaur backpack, filled with his favorite things, all sat in the guest room upstairs, where Dante wouldn't pass by and notice them.I had packed everything and stood in the doorway too long, fingers curled into the frame, wishing it could delay what was coming. Risa's words replayed in my mind throughout it all: "Leave him, Cinnamon, if he can't see reason. You're young, you have a son, and you don't deserve this."Maybe she was right. I had been so focused on keeping everything together that I hadn’t taken a moment to consider if I was harming myself in the process.I paced the living room, checking my phone repeatedly. Dove wasn’t answering. I had called four times since I made the payment and left two messages, but nothing came back. Dante had called several times, but always at inconvenient moments—either when I was handling the payment or when I was picking Oliver up from school. By the time I
DANTE.“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll be in touch.”I ended the call and leaned back, contemplating calling her again but decided against it for now. She would tell me when she was ready; she would eventually answer, and when she did, I'd listen to her explanation—that’s just who she was and what our marriage meant.My phone buzzed again before I could gather my thoughts.Another notification.A pending authorization request.I tightened my grip on the device as I opened it, half-expecting to see another outrageous number staring back at me.It hadn’t cleared yet.This meant that whatever she was doing—She wasn’t done.I was still mulling over it all when there came a knock at my office door—three soft taps.“Come in,” I said as I reached for my phone one more time.The door opened.I looked up.Risa.I set the phone down.She appeared dressed for business—blazer fitted, heels softly tapping against the carpet—but there was something about her demeanor that felt less than professional.“
DANTE.The front door felt heavier than usual. Or perhaps it was just me. As I stepped into the house, the first thing that struck me was the silence. Not a peaceful quiet, but troublesome and uncomfortable. The hallway lights were on, yet the atmosphere felt off, empty."Cinnamon." My voice echoed against the walls, but returned to me alone.I moved deeper inside, loosening my tie with two fingers and glancing left and right as if she might suddenly appear from one of the doorways. "Cinnamon?"Nothing.The kitchen was tidy; all the dining chairs were pushed in. A single glass sat on the counter, half-filled with water.I checked the living room, then the study, calling her name up the staircase while gripping the banister and leaning forward, waiting. The house simply breathed back at me.I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone; the screen nearly stopped my heart. A hundred missed calls from Cinnamon.My thumb hovered over the screen.One call—okay. Two—perhaps urgent.But t
CINNAMON.If I get my hands on Dove's ex-husband, I swear I'll skin him alive. God, please help me. Help my family. I just want to enjoy my marriage and family. Haven't I lost enough already? Why is all this happening? What did she need such a large sum of money for?A knock at the door made me hold my breath completely. "Cinnamon?" Dante's mom called calmly from the other side of the door, her tone curious. "Are you alright in there?"I pressed my fist harder against my lips and counted to three. "Yes!" My voice came out bright, almost cheerful, and I hated myself for how easily it slipped out. "I'm so sorry; I think something I ate isn’t sitting well with me. Don't worry about me; go ahead with the kids. I might need to take the morning off."There was a pause. "Oh." Disappointment laced her quick response. "Alright, take the day of work if you need it. I'm taking the kids to school.""Thank you, Mom." My voice cracked slightly on that last word, and I swallowed hard. "I'll be okay.
CINNAMONSleep had caught me off guard. One moment I was sitting on the edge of the couch, tense as a board, staring at the front door with my heart racing. The next, my alarm blared in my ear, and I woke up sideways, disoriented, with drool drying in the corner of my mouth and my neck protesting from the awkward position I had twisted myself into.I nearly sprang up from the couch in confusion, causing the room to tilt around me. I pressed my palm flat against the cushion and blinked until the walls stopped spinning. My phone. I grabbed it with both hands, my fingers trembling even before I unlocked the screen.No messages from Dante. No messages from Dove. The clock showed 6:14 AM, and the silence in the house felt suffocating, tightening around my chest.I pushed my hair back from my face and sat there for a moment, just breathing and trying to collect myself, desperately seeking to calm my restless mind. Because once I stood up, the day would begin. And once it began, I had to pre
DANTE:I should have been on the phone with Tate and Martin, arranging payouts, collecting signatures, and drafting contracts. Instead, I lay on a makeshift bed on someone’s floor, staring at shadows on the ceiling as they crept and shifted like accusatory fingers.Guilt lodged in my chest like swa
DANTEToday went well.Not a win. Not a loss. Somewhere in the middle, which should've been enough to let me sleep.Instead, I stared at the ceiling like it held answers. The heater kicked on. Groaned. Kicked off. The silence that followed felt too loud, somehow. Snow tapped against the windows sof
CINNAMON Pleasure felt too small a word for what was happening to my body. “Yes,” Dante breathed, and the sound of his voice seemed to undo something in him. His knee nudged my thighs apart, creating space for his hand to slip between them. His fingertips traced through the wetness there, teasing
CINNAMON:I set three rules for myself Sunday morning. One: Don’t touch Dante unless absolutely necessary. Two: Keep answers neutral. Professional. Nothing that could be mistaken for warmth. Three: Don’t meet his eyes for longer than it takes to nod.Simple rules. Easy to follow. Except nothing abo







