I said nothing, just slid an agreement across the table."If you truly feel indebted to me," I told Mario, "then give me the Lyndette continent medical-equipment company—this is the share-transfer document."He took it and, without hesitating, signed his name."Alessia, I can give you anything. I just want to make it right." He sounded earnest. I took the papers and, when I saw the signature on the last page, something inside me unclenched. If Mario had bothered to flip one more page, he would have seen what he had really signed: a divorce agreement.His guilt made him reach for more words, but his phone rang and cut him off. It was Carmilla. He glanced at me, suddenly guilty. "Alessia, there's an emergency at the company. I have to go. I'll be back later." He answered the call before I could reply and hurried away.He never came to see me before I was discharged. Instead, I watched a new photo on Facebook: Carmilla, smiling, Mario's back in the frame. The caption read: [Boo
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