Chapter 2

The walk-in closet of Luca's Crestmoor Heights penthouse had an entire wall devoted to couture gowns.

He'd never been stingy with me. If I looked at a piece of jewelry twice, it would be delivered the next morning. Once, I casually mentioned wanting to see the ocean, and he had someone buy a beachfront villa.

But on the nights when I actually needed him, he was always somewhere else.

I took down a few shirts I'd bought myself, collected my passport and identification documents, and shut the wardrobe door.

Sofia's voice came from behind me.

"Where are you going?"

She stood in the guest-room doorway in a silk robe.

My wedding ring was still on her finger.

Last night, Luca had said the doctor wanted to wait until the swelling went down before removing it. Then Sofia had returned to her apartment, thought someone was following her again, and been brought straight back to the penthouse.

"Only for a few days," he'd assured me. "I'm having her place checked."

Her suitcase now sat in the hallway.

The framed painting I'd left to dry by the window had been moved into storage.

"Luca said the guest room gets better sunlight, so I should rest there," Sofia said, following my gaze. She smiled apologetically. "I asked the staff to put your things away carefully."

That guest room had been my studio.

Years ago, Luca had chosen that window specifically because he knew how much natural light mattered to me.

I said nothing. Instead, I crouched to examine it. One corner of the protective paper was bent, but at least the artwork hadn't been damaged.

Luca came home unusually early that afternoon.

He'd had fresh flowers delivered, and he stood in the doorway watching me as though expecting a delighted reaction.

"I'm having dinner with you tonight."

Once, those words would have made my whole evening.

Now I asked, "Just us?"

"Of course."

He pulled out my chair and even remembered to place my water glass on my right.

I took out my phone.

Sofia had just posted a picture.

The portrait of the three of us had been cropped on the right, cutting me out. Only she and Luca remained.

Her caption read: "Some places aren't yours just because you stand in them. Thank you for always choosing me."

Someone in the comments asked whether the Moretti family had a new bride.

Sofia replied with a winking emoji.

Luca read the post. His smile faded a little.

"I'll tell her to replace it with the original."

"I want her to delete it."

"Irene, people have already shared it. Deleting it now would make it look as though there really is a problem between us."

He set my phone gently on the table.

"On the wedding day, you'll walk into the church on my arm. No one will be confused."

"You know exactly what she's implying."

He didn't answer.

Footsteps sounded upstairs.

Sofia appeared by the staircase, her eyes rimmed red.

"I'm sorry. I just thought I looked pretty in that picture. I didn't think it through."

Luca looked up.

"Next time, let me see a picture before you post it."

His tone was gentle, but the matter was clearly closed as far as he was concerned.

He turned to me and covered my hand with his.

"Can we leave it there? Tonight is just for you."

I pulled away.

"Luca, let's cancel the wedding."

Silence settled over the dining room.

He stared at me for several seconds before motioning the staff out. Once the doors had closed, he moved his chair nearer.

"I heard you. You're hurting."

"I'm telling you what I've decided."

He took my shoulders.

"We've loved each other for seven years. Don't make a decision about all seven while you're in pain."

"This isn't an impulse."

"Then we can talk when you've calmed down."

He brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"There is no other bride, Irene. There's only you."

That look used to make me hesitate. I'd wonder whether I'd imagined the worst.

This time, I simply asked, "Will you make her leave?"

His hands went still.

"She's not safe right now."

I nodded and stood.

He stood with me.

"Where do you want to go? I'll take you."

"A hotel. I need to be alone."

He didn't stop me. He carried my suitcase downstairs himself and personally walked me to the car. Before I got in, he draped his coat over my shoulders.

"I'll have Marco stay outside the hotel. Call if you need anything."

"I don't need him."

"I need to know you're safe."

He looked so earnest I almost laughed.

I got into the car without arguing again.

At the hotel, Claire had already sent the onboarding paperwork and an address for a short-term rental. I signed the documents and put the trip I'd postponed once back on my calendar.

In forty-eight hours, I'd be in Bayhaven.

This time, I wouldn't be waiting for anyone to come get me.