Chapter 3

The after-dinner fruit had just been brought out when Adrian emerged from the study and tossed a small box at me.

"For you. Don't be mad."

I didn't move.

He opened the box himself. Inside was a bracelet—some brand that was trendy among young women lately. The charm was a tiny letter B.

I asked:

"Bianca's initial?"

His face darkened.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's for Bennett. I picked it out specifically."

I looked down at a message Bianca had sent me two minutes earlier.

"Elena, don't be mad. Adrian's stomach is so sensitive—today he skipped lunch just to help me smooth things over with a client. It broke my heart to watch."

"I tried on this bracelet last week. Adrian originally picked the one with my initial."

"But just now he said you were throwing a fit, so I told him to take it and use it to calm you down."

"Elena, I really don't care about the bracelet. Honestly."

The provocation from the younger woman was as brazen as it got.

But in that moment, I didn't feel even a flicker of desire to compete.

"Adrian, don't bother explaining."

"I'm just tired."

"Tomorrow, I'd like to move out for a while."

He stared at me blankly, as if he couldn't process what I was saying.

"Move out? Why? Aren't we about to get married?"

A dull, dragging pain spread through my abdomen. I gripped the couch to keep from collapsing.

"That's right. We're about to get married."

"So I thought I'd try living alone again for a bit. See what it's like."

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, like I was exhausting him.

"Fine. Whatever you want."

"Whatever I want?"

I repeated the words. They had never sounded more hollow.

"Yeah. Whatever you want."

"If you need to get out and clear your head, go ahead. Whenever you want to come back, I'll send the driver."

He retreated once more—the way you'd indulge a child throwing a tantrum.

The real reason I was leaving? He didn't understand it. Didn't care about it. Couldn't be bothered to even ask.

He was certain this was just another harmless little spat. A few days to cool off, and I'd come crawling back.

I didn't answer. I turned and walked into the bedroom.

From the living room, I heard him on the phone. Even with his voice lowered, the smile in it was unmistakable.

"It's nothing. She's just having one of her little moods. Don't worry about it."

"You don't have to be scared about the department transfer. I'll set you up with a friend of mine for a bit. Once she calms down, you can come back."

"I'm transferring thirty thousand to you. Don't say no. You hear me?"

I opened the closet and placed my clothes into a suitcase, piece by piece.

Half the closet sat empty now—as though, in all these three years, I'd never truly lived in his life.

The next morning, I woke early. Adrian was still asleep.

I didn't wake him. I went alone to the private hospital the Vitale family had long funded, stood in line, and completed every examination.

The doctor pointed to a tiny gestational sac on the screen.

"The baby is healthy. Strong heartbeat."

I gripped the test results in my hand.

The decision I'd made wavered in that moment.

I walked out of the examination room and had just turned the corner when I heard a familiar voice.

"Listen to me—no matter how bitter it is, you have to swallow it. Otherwise it'll hurt again tomorrow."