Chapter 2

Dante had truly loved me once. He had stayed up with me designing every floor plan for Il Nido, back when he still stayed up, back when he still said "we built this together." On the night Il Nido opened, he stood at the door with my hand in his and said he hoped our love would last as long as the club. The day I told him I was pregnant, his eyes went red, and he transferred every asset he owned into my name, announcing it in front of the entire family.

We were the perfect union. Love and loyalty made flesh.

Late that night, I went back to my room and found my phone lit up on the nightstand. Dante had sent two photographs. Serena, changing backstage, adjusting her dress in front of a mirror, her face unreadable. Beneath them, a message from him: "Which one do you think looks better? Serena has a big performance coming up, and you have a good eye. Let me know."

I stared at those words until the screen went dark. I did not reply. Before, every photograph would have made me cry until morning. But this time, when the darkness swallowed the last pale glow of the screen, I felt something inside me had run out, like the last candle burned down to nothing, smoke and all.

Elena told me to give her a week. The dissolution documents would take time to prepare. She had to work around Dante's people, around the eyes watching from inside the family. There was nothing I needed to do but wait. Seven days, and I would be free.

The next morning, I woke to find Dante beside me. His hand was on my belly. After a moment, he said, "The baby is moving." He lifted his head and smiled. "He is scratching me." As if in answer, a small movement pressed against his palm, faint but real.

Dante was always like this. No matter what happened outside, when he came back to me, he was the same husband. He pulled the blanket up over my shoulders and spoke softly, like he was soothing a child who had been upset. "Do not overthink it. Everything I do, I do for this family. You think I want to spend all my time with those people? I have responsibilities." He even kissed my forehead. When he said "for this family," he sounded sincere. He probably believed it.

As long as I did not mention Serena, we could go on like nothing was wrong. But I did not want to do that anymore.

"Get up and eat something," Dante said, leaning down to kiss my forehead. His lips were warm. "I will drive you to the clinic."

At the table, I sipped a cup of herbal tea. Dante sat across from me, turning his coffee cup in his hands. He laughed suddenly. "I thought you would call me last night. You used to call until I picked up." His tone was light, but there was something underneath it. "So you really do not care anymore?"

I did not lift my head. "Is this not what you always wanted? A wife who understands, who makes allowances, who does not create problems for your work?"

Dante paused, then reached over and brushed the hair from my face. His voice slowed. "You understand now. That is good. I have more to deal with every day than you see. You just need to remember that you are my wife. The only woman I will ever marry. The mother of my child."

I put my cup down. "Let us go."

The drive to the clinic was quiet. Dante glanced at me in the rearview mirror several times, but he did not speak. He probably thought I was still upset.

I was thirty-two weeks along, and this was the appointment he had promised he would not miss.

I used to talk about the baby on these drives. It was the only thing that would make him look up from his phone. Now I did not want to say anything.

Just before we arrived, his phone rang. The voice on the other end was urgent, and I caught fragments, "gambling debts," "her mother," "they showed up." Dante's face did not change. "That is her problem," he said. "I am in clinic with my wife." He hung up. He parked in front of the clinic, put his hand on my belly, and softened his voice. "Baby, we are here."

I got out, checked in at the front desk, and turned around. The seat next to me was empty.

A message appeared on my phone: "Sorry. Serena has a situation with her mother's creditors. I have to handle it. I remember your mother's anniversary. I will be back the day after tomorrow. Do the checkup alone today. I will make it up to you."