Then he was too close.
Too close.
His mouth near my ear, his words slicing deeper than knives.
“You will never touch me again. You will never breathe the same air as me.”
I screamed, but no sound came out.
No one heard.
Not even him.
“Please—listen to me,” I begged, my voice dissolving into nothing, swallowed by the cathedral.
I woke up gasping.
Sweat on my skin. My body shaking. A scream trapped in my throat like a hand around my windpipe.
My hands flew to my face, trembling, and the tears came before my mind fully caught up—silent and unstoppable.
I curled in the center of the bed, pulling my knees to my chest, desperate for something solid, something safe. My breathing came in ragged bursts while I fought a sob I couldn’t control anymore.
And there in the dark—where no one could see me break—
I finally let myself cry.
I cried for everything I refused to show during the day.
I cried because no matter how much anger protected me in front of him…
at night, when no one was watching—
it was always the pain that won.
THIRTY-ONE
ENRICO FERRARA
I left her room with my fists clenched and my jaw locked.
Her stubborn pride still burned on my tongue like a bitter taste, and I hated every second of it.
That woman threw me off balance.
She always had.
But now… now it was worse. Much worse.
Now Valentina looked at me like I was a stranger. Like what we’d lived together had never existed. Like I hadn’t been inside her world—like she hadn’t once been inside mine.
And the worst part?
A part of me believed I deserved that cold, indifferent stare.
Even as every step away from her felt like a constant fight between the control I had left… and the savage impulse to go back and pull her into my arms.
I crossed the hallway in absolute silence and locked myself in my office, trying to forget the image of her standing there in thatthin nightgown, chin lifted, proud, pretending she was stronger than she felt.
