Chapter 3

Sloane

I took a shaky step back, the world around me spinning.

Reed moved quickly, getting out of the bed. “Sloane, wait!”

“No.” My voice cracked as I turned away, clutching my chest. I needed to get out of there. Away from this room. Away from him. Away from… her.

I didn’t get far.

Reed caught up to me, grabbing my wrist and pulling me to a stop.

“Let go of me,” I said sharply, yanking my hand free. My voice shook, but I meant it. “I… I can’t do this. Not now.”

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I blinked them back, refusing to let them fall—not in front of him.

Reed ran a hand through his hair, pacing once like he was frustrated. “F*ck,” he muttered under his breath. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

I stared at him, stunned. “What?”

“You weren’t supposed to see that!” he snapped louder, his voice sharp like a whip. “Why the hell did you even come here?!”

I froze. My lips parted, but no words came out.

W-what…?

Four years. In all the years I had known Reed… he had never, ever raised his voice at me.

And now?

He looked angry.

Like I was the problem.

I took a step back, my chest rising and falling quickly, my hands still shaking.

Reed scoffed, then turned away from me and walked to the dining table. He picked up a file and walked back with it in his hands.

He held it out.

“Take it,” he said coldly.

I stared at the file, then at him. “What is this?”

“Just take it, Sloane.”

My hand reached out slowly, fingers trembling as I took the folder. I looked down, hesitating… then opened it.

The words at the top hit me like a punch.

Petition for Dissolution of Marriage.

My breath caught in my throat.

I looked up at him, my voice barely above a whisper. “You want a divorce…?”

His face was unreadable. “Let’s not drag this out.”

My lips parted in disbelief. My heart wasn’t just breaking. It was shattering.

I glanced at the documents, my hands trembling, the paper feeling heavier than it should. My eyes lifted slowly to meet Reed’s. Those eyes once warm and filled with love were now blank. Cold. Like I was a stranger.

Behind him, Evelyn stood in silence. She didn’t look at me. She couldn’t.

I let out a dry, bitter laugh, more of a breath than sound, as I turned around.

With every step I took, I waited.

He’ll call my name.

He’ll tell me to wait.

He’ll say sorry.

He’ll remember the vows we made, the late-night talks, the mornings we woke up wrapped in each other.

He’ll remember… us.

But he never did.

The front door clicked shut behind me.

I walked to the elevator, barely seeing. My heels echoed, my chest tight. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

The lobby doors slid open, and I stepped into the night.

Rain hit me hard.

Cold. Heavy. Soaking through my dress in seconds.

I didn’t move.

Maybe the rain could drown out the pain. Maybe it could wash away the image of Reed and Evelyn together. Maybe if I stood here long enough, I’d feel nothing at all.

I looked up, letting it hit my face. My hands clenched at my sides. My heart ached.

Then… the rain stopped.

I blinked.

Rio stood in front of me, holding an umbrella over my head. His eyes were soft, calm, but I saw the anger beneath.

“We should leave,” he said quietly.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek and looked away. “You should’ve gone,” I whispered, barely able to speak past the lump in my throat. “Y-you didn’t have to wait…”

He didn’t respond. Just opened the car door and waited.

I gave in.

The ride back was quiet. I kept my face turned toward the window, blinking away the tears every few seconds. The city lights blurred as they passed. I clutched my arms to my chest, as if holding myself together.

When we reached the penthouse, I stepped inside, my heels clicking softly against the marble floor. It was warm. Familiar. Filled with pieces of a life I thought was mine.

Now, every corner held a memory I didn’t want.

I went to change into my robe and tied the belt tightly around my waist. My hair was still damp. My skin cold. But I didn’t care.

I took a deep breath and walked out, expecting the living room to be empty.

But he was still there.

Rio.

He was standing by the kitchen counter, placing two mugs down on a tray. When he saw me, he picked one up and walked over, silent as always.

He handed me the cup steam rising, the smell of chamomile and lavender soothing.

“It’ll help with the cold,” he said softly, the smooth edge of his Italian accent curling around his words.

I took the cup carefully, our fingers brushing.

“Thanks,” I murmured, trying to offer a small smile. “Gosh, I must look like some crazy wet raccoon drinking tea. Hope I don’t terrify you, Mr. Bellini.”

I laughed lightly, trying to ease the heaviness in the room.

But Rio didn’t smile.

He looked at me for a moment, his dark eyes searching mine. Then, quietly, he said, “You don’t have to hide your pain.”

My throat tightened again. I looked down into the cup. “What are you—”

Then I felt it.

A single drop.

I looked away quickly, brushing at my face, but it was useless. More followed.

My shoulders shook. My breath came in short bursts. I clutched the cup tighter.

And Rio just sat there. Silent. Not staring. Not judging.

Just… there.

For the first time, I didn’t hide it.

Didn’t lie.

Didn’t pretend.

I cried. In front of someone.

god I hated this feeling…