Chapter 3

The next evening, Vincent came home again.

This time, he was holding a small, elegant blue box—the signature of Tiffany & Co.

"Elena, I bought you something," he said, approaching me carefully, his voice dripping with a sweetness I now knew was fake. "You're going to love it."

I sat by the window, not even bothering to look at him.

Vincent opened the box. Inside lay a brilliant diamond necklace, each stone flawless and sparkling under the light.

"It's from the new collection. Global limited edition," he said softly. "Want to try it on?"

I finally turned to look at him, at the practiced tenderness on his face. Suddenly, the last five years flashed before my eyes.

The apology gifts after every fight. The sudden affection after days of cold shoulders. The sweet nothings he’d whisper whenever I suspected he was cheating… It was all an act.

He’d send roses on my birthday, book the most expensive restaurant for our anniversary, go to church with me on Christmas…

All those beautiful memories were now just a bitter joke. Because I knew, after those "romantic" nights, he'd turn around and go straight to Sophia's bed.

"Elena?" Vincent reached out to put the necklace on me. "Why are you crying?"

I hadn't even realized the tears were falling again. But this time, it wasn't sadness. It was rage. Rage at my own stupidity.

"Get it away from me," I said, pushing his hand away. "Take your necklace, and take your fake concern with it."

"Elena, I know you're angry, but it's not as bad as you think," Vincent tried to explain. "I gave you the pills because I didn't want you to get hurt."

"Afraid I'd be hurt?" I couldn't believe my ears. "So you thought lying to me was better?"

"You don't understand. The succession in the Romano family is complicated. I needed to be sure…" He paused. "But this doesn't mean anything, Elena. Even if Sophia has the baby, it won't change your position. We can still have a good life together."

A good life together?

I stood up, feeling the blood pound in my ears.

"What do you think I am, Vincent? Your little songbird? Something you keep in a cage, toss a few treats to, and expect to sing on command?"

"Elena, don't be like that…"

"Be like what?" My voice rose. "How should I be? Should I keep playing the fool? Keep taking your poison? Watch your mistress carry your child and be grateful for the scraps you throw me?"

"I never asked you to be grateful."

"Then what do you want from me?" I stepped closer. "To keep being your perfect little wife? To put on a show for the world about how happy we are, so you can go screw Sophia with a clear conscience?"

Vincent fell silent.

"There is no 'us' anymore, Vincent," I said, my voice suddenly quiet. "I hate you. I hate your lies, I hate your hypocrisy, and I hate that I ever loved you."

I turned and walked into the bedroom, locking the door behind me.

I heard the sound of something smashing against the door, followed by the front door slamming shut.

I collapsed onto the bed, feeling completely hollowed out.

Just then, my laptop chimed with a new email notification.

I walked over. The screen was lit up with a message from Marcus Blackwood.

Elena,

How have you been? I remember you always used to skip meals. Is your stomach still giving you trouble? I took this picture of some orcas the other day. Incredible, right? I wish we could have seen this together. I know you're married now, and this is probably out of line. I'm sorry. But I miss you. I hope you're happy.

—Marcus

I stared at the email, my heart starting to pound.

It was an escape. A window to a new life.