I sat in the hospital chair staring at my hands.Blood still stained my knuckles from hitting Miles.But it wasn’t enough blood.Not nearly enough to balance what had been done to Victoria.To our child.Our child.The words kept echoing in my mind like a prayer and a curse combined.Victoria had been pregnant.With my baby.She’d been coming to tell me the most wonderful news in the world.Instead, she’d walked into hell.Isabella’s hell.My ex-wife had orchestrated the kidnapping of a pregnant woman.Had ordered the murder of an unborn child.Had arranged for memories to be erased so completely that Victoria couldn’t even grieve what she’d lost.For two years, I’d mourned the loss of Vanessa.For two years, Victoria had lived with phantom grief she couldn’t understand.Neither of us knew we’d both been mourning the same losses.The same child.The same future that had been stolen from us.I wanted to kill Isabella with my bare hands.Wanted to make her suffer the way she’d made Vict
Miles’s grip on my arm was painful as he dragged me toward the other room.“Please, Miles, don’t do this,” I pleaded, trying to dig my heels into the floor.“Stop fighting me, Victoria. You’ll only make this harder on yourself.”I twisted in his grasp, desperate to break free.My heart was pounding so hard I could barely think.But I had to get away.Had to escape whatever he had planned.“Let me go!”I yanked my arm as hard as I could, catching him off guard.For a moment, I was free.I stumbled toward the door, my legs unsteady with panic.But Miles was faster.His hand caught the back of my dress, pulling me backward.“Where do you think you’re going?”I spun around, trying to push him away.“Stay away from me!”“Victoria, don’t be difficult.”He reached for me again, and I stepped back.Too quickly.Too far.My foot caught the edge of a Persian rug.I felt myself falling backward, arms windmilling helplessly.Time seemed to stand still as I realized what was happening.My head was
Something was wrong with Miles Benedetti from the moment Victoria first mentioned his name.I couldn’t place why.The name felt familiar in a way that made my skin crawl.Like a half-remembered warning I should have heeded.When Victoria had stopped talking about him, I’d been relieved.But also more concerned.If she was hiding their interactions from me, it meant she knew I would disapprove.Which meant she was probably seeing more of him than I’d realized.I woke up Saturday morning to an empty bed.Victoria’s side was cold, like she’d been gone for hours.Probably at the gallery early, working on some new project.She’d been throwing herself into the business lately with an intensity that both impressed and worried me.Aria was still sleeping when I checked on her.Curled up with her stuffed elephant, dark curls spread across her pillow.Peaceful and perfect, she was completely trusting that her parents would keep her world safe.I kissed her forehead and headed to my office.The
Miles had become a regular presence at the gallery over the past two weeks.Stopping by to view new pieces.Bringing potential clients to see exhibitions.Always with intelligent observations that sparked conversations lasting longer than necessary.I found myself looking forward to his visits.The way he could analyze a piece from multiple perspectives.His knowledge of art history rivaled my own.The connections he drew between contemporary work and classical influences.But I’d noticed Alessandro’s mood darkening whenever I mentioned Miles.His jaw would tighten slightly.His responses would become clipped.So I’d stopped sharing the details of our professional interactions.It was easier than dealing with Alessandro’s unexplained discomfort.When Miles had invited me to see his private collection, I’d been thrilled.“I think you’d find it educational,” he’d said yesterday. “Some pieces you won’t see in any public museum.”“I’d love that.”“Saturday afternoon? I can send you the ad
The gallery had found its rhythm over the past month.A steady flow of visitors throughout the week.Serious collectors mix with curious tourists.Local artists are dropping by to study the current exhibition.The kind of organic energy that made a space feel alive.I’d hired two assistants: Sofia, a recent art history graduate with an infectious enthusiasm for contemporary work, and Carlo, an older gentleman who’d managed galleries in Florence for twenty years before retiring to Rome.Having them handle the daily operations gave me time to focus on what I loved most.Discovering new artists.Curating meaningful exhibitions.Building relationships with people who shared my passion for art.This afternoon, I was doing my usual walk-through.Checking that everything was properly lit.Making sure the information cards were positioned correctly.Observing how visitors moved through the space.The current exhibition was a group show featuring five emerging painters.Each with a distinct vo
The photographs arrived every week like clockwork.Alessandro is leaving his penthouse in the morning.Victoria is walking to her new gallery.The three of them are together at restaurants, parks, and family outings.Looking like the perfect happy family.Looking like everything I’d lost.Everything that should have been mine.I spread the latest batch across my desk in the Palermo villa, studying each image with the intensity of a forensic analyst.Alessandro’s hand on Victoria’s back as he helped her from the car.Victoria was laughing at something Aria had said.The way Alessandro looked at her when he thought no one was watching.Like she was his entire world.The same way he’d never looked at me.Not once in three years of marriage.“Anything useful?” Carlos asked from the doorway.“Define useful.”“Something we can exploit.”I picked up a photo of Victoria at her gallery opening.Radiant in a midnight blue dress, surrounded by admirers.Looking like a woman who had everything sh