Chapter 5

At eleven that night, the last suitcase finally closed.

I crouched by the bed, checking my passport and documents, when there was a soft knock at the door.

Camilla walked in carrying a glass of milk, wearing my slippers.

"Vivian, I'm really sorry about what happened today."

She set the glass on the corner of the desk, her eyes sweeping over the open suitcase.

"Are you going on a trip?"

"None of your business."

I closed the folder of papers.

She didn't leave. Instead she turned and shut the door behind her.

"You don't have to be so guarded with me, really. Cardo helps me only because Marco died for him."

She raised a hand to smooth her hair, her fingertip sliding along the curve of her ear, and an earring came into view.

A white-gold setting, a circle of tiny diamonds, a small ruby set in the center.

Cardo had a jeweler make that pair specially for our wedding year. There was only one pair in the world.

I stared at the earring for two seconds, then held out my hand.

"Take it off."

Camilla touched her earlobe like she'd just remembered, and smiled.

"Last night while Ellie was getting her IV, my earring fell out. Cardo grabbed a pair from the drawer for me. He probably forgot they were yours."

I had no patience for her excuses.

"I said take it off."

The smile on her lips faded a layer, but she still unhurriedly undid the clasp.

"Vivian, you're leaving anyway. What's one pair of earrings?"

"Who told you I'm leaving?"

"Your bags are packed. Does anyone need to tell me?"

She glanced toward the closet and let out a laugh.

"You don't need to run away from home to force his hand, really. He's a Don. You think he'd stop for one woman?"

I was done talking. I reached for the earring.

Camilla shrank back, and her heel caught right in a fold of the rug.

The next second she screamed and toppled backward. Her lower back hit the vanity, the glass picture frame on top wobbled twice and crashed to the floor, shattering.

She cried out, "Help!"

The noise carried to the living room.

Cardo charged in in a few strides.

"Camilla!"

He shoved me aside and crouched to help the woman on the floor.

I stumbled from the push, my elbow cracking against the corner of the desk, then scraping across the shattered glass.

Blood seeped through my sleeve and soaked a wide patch in seconds.

Camilla, pale as paper, clutched her ankle and shook her head.

"Don't blame Donna. I saw her packing and I was afraid she'd leave in a temper, so I asked a couple of questions. She probably misunderstood about me and you."

Cardo looked up at me, his eyes full of disappointment.

"Did you push her?"

I pressed a hand to my bleeding arm.

"If I say no, would you believe me?"

He was silent for two seconds.

"Camilla already has an old injury on that ankle. She got it when she and Marco were running. You shouldn't have done that."

I took a deep breath.

Three years ago, when I still worked at a gallery, someone secretly moved my sketches into another artist's contest folder and reported me for plagiarism.

All the evidence was laid out. Everyone believed I'd done it.

Cardo came by once.

He didn't ask anyone anything. He just bought the gallery outright. The person who reported me, everyone who joined in the jeering, all fired and blacklisted in the industry.

I asked him, "Why didn't you ask first whether I actually did it?"

He said, "You're my Donna. Standing by you is my eternal duty."

Now he was half-kneeling on the floor, cradling another woman's ankle, looking up to accuse me.

"I see."

Blood ran down my fingers and dripped onto the cracked wedding photo.

In the photo, Cardo was holding me from behind, happier than words.

The glass had shattered into a spiderweb. My blood seeped into the cracks and stained that face red.

Cardo didn't see it.

He'd already scooped Camilla up in his arms and was heading for the guest room.

At the door he paused and turned his face slightly.

"Apologize to her in the morning. They'll move out in a couple of days. Stop making a scene."

I stood there, watching the bright red "1" above his head disappear behind the door.

Then I picked up my phone and moved my flight from three days out to nine tomorrow morning.