Chapter 7

"Nothing," Eva whispered, her voice soft as her eyes welled with tears. She stared out into the night skyline of Veritas.

A second later, fireworks burst across the sky, looking brilliant and blinding.

Then, she remembered what Cleo had said earlier that day. "He's setting off fireworks in Marrowind tonight to celebrate our little miracle."

The sky sparkled, dazzling and surreal, but it wasn't for her.

Leo followed her gaze, misreading the look in her eyes. He smiled indulgently, thinking she was dazzled.

"You like fireworks? I'll plan a whole fireworks show just for you. It'll be even bigger than this. On your birthday, I'll light up the sky from Halden Bay all the way to Elmridge Park. Just for you, okay?"

He pulled her into his arms, holding her like something rare and priceless. His voice was low and coaxing.

Eva let out a soft laugh. "Leo, I don't like what's already been used."

His body stiffened instantly.

Silence stretched between them before he tightened his hold on her, his voice low and hoarse. "Then I'll find another way to surprise you. I'll make sure you never envy anyone again."

But Eva didn't answer. She just kept her eyes on the sky as the last spark fizzled into darkness.

That was what their love had become—briefly dazzling, then completely gone.

…

In the days that followed, Leo changed. He left early every morning with a motorcade, didn't return until late at night, and canceled all routine meetings.

He gave only one instruction to his subordinates. "Keep everything low-profile. No one disturbs Eva."

Even the maid had picked up on the shift. Their whispers behind closed doors were filled with speculation and mischief.

"Mrs. Sereno, Don Leo must be planning something big for you. He just ordered a one-of-a-kind Karamir sapphire ring. We also heard he's been talking to some custom artisans in Merilan."

"Sounds like someone's about to become the happiest woman in the world," another giggled.

Eva said nothing.

A few nights later, Leo finally came to her in person. He was dressed in all black, his expression unusually light.

He gently took her hand. "Eva, come with me tonight. I want to show you something. I promise you'll love it."

She opened her mouth to turn him down, but her phone buzzed.

It was a message from Cleo.

"Eva, take a guess. Right now, who do you think matters more to Leo—me or you?"

She glanced up instinctively, catching a glimpse of Leo's expression just as he opened a new message.

It was a photo of Cleo in sheer black stockings, with her legs posed deliberately. The message beneath it was even more suggestive. "Clock's ticking."

Leo swallowed hard.

In just three seconds, he snapped the phone shut and murmured, "Eva, a deal's gone sideways. I need to take care of it. Let's do it another day, okay?"

Eva looked at him with calm, unreadable eyes.

Then, she smiled. There was no argument, and she made no effort to keep him.

A few hours later, Cleo sent her another message.

This time, it was photos—ripped condom wrappers tossed into a trash can. One after another, messy and deliberate, like trophies lined up for display.

"Eva, you lost again. I'm still carrying Leo's child, and he couldn't keep his hands off me. Tell me, how much more proof do you need that he loves me?"

Eva stared at her phone, and for the first time in a long while, she felt grateful—grateful that she was leaving.

No matter how vile or humiliating it all was, none of it could hurt her anymore.

Leo didn't come home for days. Eva didn't ask, and she didn't go looking for him.

The only thing that kept arriving relentlessly was Cleo's messages.

She sent photos of racks filled with limited-edition designer dresses. There was a bowl of neatly sliced fruit, with a sticky note attached that read, "Leo cut it himself—he was afraid I might slip and hurt my hand."

She even included snapshots of Wynoran-style dishes, all carefully prepared by Leo himself, as if to prove a point.

"Eva, you know what he told me? He said that I'm the one who really understands him. He kissed me ten times while cooking. Can you even cook? Do you even remember what Leo likes?"

Eva scrolled through each image in silence.

She didn't reply.

She was busy erasing her presence from the villa—her clothes, her books, her makeup, even the little fleece throw she always curled up with on the couch.

She had made up her mind.

She was leaving Leo.