Too Broken To Be Healed

Alessia

Hell burned right in front of me.

Not as fire or smoke—but as a tall, devastatingly handsome Italian man standing at the foot of our bed, divorce papers clenched in his hand like a weapon.

The icy steel of his gray eyes cut through me, colder than the peaks of the Dolomites, stripping me bare with a stare filled with disgust—as though I were nothing more than dirt beneath his shoes.

“Sign them. Now.”

He flung the papers onto the silk-covered mattress of the penthouse bedroom. They fluttered toward me slowly, cruelly, the bold word screaming at me from the page.

Divorce.

The blood drained from my body. My veins felt hollow, my ears ringing with a dull, merciless thud, but I couldn’t move. I refused to accept this was real. I had never fooled myself into believing Matteo Rinaldi loved me—but I had believed we could endure this marriage. That we could coexist. That obligation was enough.

Maybe love had blinded me after all.

“You don’t get to command me to end this marriage, Matteo,” I said, my voice shaking despite my effort to steady it. “I am not one of your company executives. I am your wife. I deserve at least a shred of decency. I buried my grandmother three hours ago. I’m still mourning.”

A cruel glimmer flashed in his eyes as he tilted his head slightly, studying me like an inconvenience.

“And what exactly makes you think you deserve that?” he asked coolly. “I don’t have time to exchange pleasantries with you, Alessia. Sign the papers while I’m still being civil. Don’t push me.”

Fear slid down my spine like ice.

Not just fear for myself—but for the tiny life growing silently inside me. The child I carried, the one he knew nothing about. Instinctively, my trembling hand pressed against my abdomen. Of course, he didn’t notice. Or care.

“I won’t sign them,” I said, forcing strength into my voice.

A dark, humorless chuckle escaped him, dropping the temperature in the room several degrees. He dragged a hand through his perfectly groomed dark hair, loosening it from its neat style, then tugged at his tie as though restraining himself.

When he looked back at me, a vein pulsed angrily at his temple.

“You will sign those papers, Alessia,” he said quietly. “Your useless old grandmother was the only thing keeping this farce alive. Now she’s dead—finally—and this marriage is going straight into the grave with her.”

Tears scorched my eyes, blurring my vision.

How could he speak of her that way? She was barely cold in the ground, and this was how he spoke of her—without shame, without remorse. Even a slap would have hurt less.

“Don’t blame my grandmother for your choices,” I whispered. “You’re doing this because of Giulia. You never stopped loving her. After three years of marriage, that’s just pitiful—”

“Shut your mouth!” he roared, slamming his fists into the mattress. “You don’t get to say her name! She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved. I want her in my life—not a useless burden like you. You can fight all you want, but I will make you sign those papers. How painful it gets depends on you.”

He looked unhinged.

Matteo’s anger had always been cold and controlled—like the calm surface of the Mediterranean hiding monsters beneath. But now it was violent. Unrestrained. Terrifying.

How had I ever loved this man?

Our marriage had been arranged, a merger between powerful families. Yet the first moment I’d seen him, standing tall in a tailored Italian suit, confidence radiating from him like heat, I’d been undone. He was a man carved by privilege and power—wealth, influence, and beauty rolled into one. Women chased him shamelessly.

And I fell. Completely. With no one to catch me.

But Matteo had already given his heart away.

To Giulia Conti—my half-sister.

She had always owned him.

Giulia Conti was a celebrated violinist—refined, graceful, and adored in the elite salons of Europe. She performed for aristocrats, royalty, and billionaires, her name whispered with admiration in Milan, Paris, and London alike. On the surface, she was a white swan: delicate, luminous, the very embodiment of femininity.

At least, that was the illusion.

Behind closed doors, her soul was cruel, warped, and venomous. And somehow, I was the only one who ever saw it.

Giulia had been studying at the Conservatoire in Paris when my engagement to Matteo was announced. Our families had woven this trap long before we had any say in it.

His grandfather and my grandmother had once been lovers—deeply, desperately—but for reasons no one ever fully explained, they never married. Instead, they sealed their bond through their descendants, choosing legacy over passion.

I honored my grandmother’s final wish so she could die in peace.

Matteo honored his obligation so he could ascend to the position of CEO of Rinaldi Holdings, one of Italy’s most powerful conglomerates. The contract had been drafted when we were still children—right after I was adopted into the influential De Santis family.

I was a requirement.

Nothing more.

“You used me,” I said hoarsely, staring at Matteo. “And this is how you end it? No compassion. No respect. Not even while I’m grieving?”

“Oh, spare us the theatrics, Alessia.”

The voice sliced through the room like poison.

I turned sharply toward the open doorway.

Giulia stood there—my half-sister, my lifelong tormentor—draped in elegance and arrogance. A slow, mocking smile curved her lips.

“If it were up to me,” she continued, strolling inside, “this ridiculous marriage would’ve ended years ago. Isn’t that right, amore?”

She walked straight into Matteo’s arms.

The transformation in him was instant.

The rage vanished. His posture softened. His eyes followed her like she was the only thing in the world worth seeing.

“You’re far better at handling stubborn parasites,” he murmured, pulling her closer and brushing his nose against her cheek with intimate familiarity.

Something crushed inside my chest.

Giulia’s manicured fingers traced the hard lines of his arms. “You feel so tense,” she purred. “What kind of miserable woman did you end up stuck with?” She shot me a look filled with disdain and triumph. “Here—let me fix that.”

She rose onto her toes—despite her towering heels—and pressed her lips to his.

He didn’t hesitate.

He kissed her back with hunger, his hands gripping her waist as though I didn’t exist. They devoured each other right there, in the bedroom that had once—only once—been mine.

The tears I’d been holding back finally spilled, burning trails down my cheeks.

My throat tightened, my breathing shaking as the truth settled heavily in my chest.

I had no place in this marriage.

I could refuse to sign the papers, yes—but I could never stop them from humiliating me. From flaunting their affair. From crushing what little dignity I had left.

And my child… my unborn child did not deserve a home like this.

That single night we’d shared this bed flashed in my mind.

Something must have gone wrong between them. Matteo had come home drunk, angry, desperate. He hadn’t asked. He hadn’t cared. I remembered the pain, the fear, the way my body had felt like it no longer belonged to me.

But I had mistaken possession for love.

I had held him as I cried silently, as he whispered Giulia’s name against my skin.

Something inside me died that night.

He remembered nothing.

But inside me, a life grew—pure, innocent, untouched by his cruelty.

I would protect my child with everything I had.

And it began by giving Matteo exactly what he wanted.

A divorce.

I picked up the pen, gathering the scattered papers with trembling hands. They finally broke apart, turning to watch me with victorious expressions.

Giulia scoffed. “See? That wasn’t so hard. Everyone’s waiting back at the villa for Nonna’s will to be read. You’re holding us up.”

I ignored her.

I wiped my damp palms against my black mourning dress and signed my name.

When I was done, I straightened, dropped the pen, and lifted my head. My eyes burned, but my voice did not falter.

“You won’t have to worry about seeing me again, Matteo,” I said quietly. “I’ll come for my belongings tonight.”

He didn’t look up.

His entire focus was on the signed papers.

So I gathered the remains of my shattered heart…

And walked out of the room.