Chapter 4

The next morning, our bedroom door opened.

Vittorio came in wearing the same suit he'd worn on the cruise. A few faint scratches marked the side of his neck, mostly hidden by his collar. The cloying fruity perfume on him was nauseating.

He found me closing a small suitcase.

He rubbed his temples, looking exhausted.

"Still upset?

"Last night was an emergency. I was only a little late getting to you. Besides, I sent men ahead to protect you. You used to handle a gun better than anyone I know. Between your skills and the guards, you were never really in danger. Don't be so petty."

I zipped the case shut without looking at him.

Vittorio sighed, took a gold-edged envelope from inside his jacket, and set it on my dressing table.

"All right. Take a look at this first.

"It's a private island off the Meridian Coast, with a transfer agreement that gives it to you outright. On our anniversary next week, I'll put the whole island in your name, and then I'll take you there myself for a month.

"Freya, that island is worth billions. What other Donna gets treated like this? I've given you power, property, everything. Can we please stop fighting over last night?

"You know you're the only woman in my heart."

He polished the silver pin on his lapel. My initials gleamed.

I opened the document and turned a few pages.

At dawn, an operative I'd stationed outside the city had sent me a report.

After their tryst in a storage room on the cruise ship, Vittorio had promised to buy that very island for the woman, Lucienne Rinaldi. It was a private hideaway where he could keep her.

Lucienne had thrown a fit on the spot. She called it a deserted rock in the middle of nowhere and said the trip would be more trouble than it was worth.

Vittorio mistook my silence for surrender.

"Go on, sign. As long as you behave, you can have anything you—"

I walked to the fireplace and dropped the agreement into the flames.

His face hardened.

"Freya, how much longer are you going to carry on like this?"

He stepped in front of me and spoke slowly, biting out each word.

"You used to be so generous and understanding. How did you turn into this?

"I've obviously spoiled you. Stay home and think about what you've done. And don't mistake my patience for permission to push me."

He believed I couldn't survive without him.

When he slammed the door, the framed pictures on the wall rattled.

I opened my laptop, organized the messages and evidence I'd received over the past week, and scheduled them for delivery.

Then I took my one small suitcase and left through the estate's back entrance.

A car Silas had arranged was already waiting.

I took one last look at the estate where I'd lived for eight years. Then I got in without a shred of regret.

...

Third-Person POV

At that same moment, Vittorio stood onstage at an alliance meeting, proudly announcing that a new shipping route worth billions would bear Freya's name.

The room erupted in applause.

He left in high spirits and even bought a bouquet of white roses. Perhaps he imagined he'd hand them to her and graciously end their supposed quarrel.

But when he pushed open the estate doors, he stopped.

No servants waiting to greet him. No lights.

No Freya.

Before leaving, Freya had used the Don's authority to clear the residence of the staff and loyalists who usually worked there.

Anxiety finally broke through his confidence. He hurried upstairs and flung open their bedroom door.

The room was empty. There was nothing left that felt like hers.

Only a document sat at the center of the broad desk.

It was a signed agreement renouncing Freya's place in the family and dissolving their marriage.

At the bottom was a single line in Freya's handwriting.

"Vittorio, I hope you two grow old together."

His face drained of color. The white roses fell from his hand, scattering across the floor.

His phone started vibrating.

Then vibrating again.

The scheduled emails were arriving, one after another.

With shaking hands, he opened the first.