It was impossible to tell whether we were walking into a negotiation...
or the opening act of a war.
The glass doors ahead reflected us back in fractured fragments—dark silhouettes approaching something that looked too polished, too clean to survive what we carried with us.
I kept my expression neutral.
But inside—every instinct I had was awake.
Alert.
Ready.
My phone vibrated against my side.
A sharp, insistent buzz that cut through the quiet like a warning.
I didn’t react immediately.
Just slowed my step slightly.
Then slipped my hand into the inner pocket of my jacket.
Pulled the phone out just enough to see the screen.
Vincenzo.
Seven missed calls.
My chest tightened with something that sat somewhere between anger and something I refused to name.
His contact name sat there on the screen, stark and simple.
The only one in my phone when I’d set it up three days after the wedding.
The day he’d handed me a black Amex card and told me to buy whatever the hell I wanted.
I stared at the screen a second longer than I should have.
Then—
I let the screen go dark and shoved the phone back into my pocket.
He had left me on my knees — lips parted, heart pounding, ready to take his cock into my mouth like the obedient little slut he wanted me to be.
Then he simply walked away.
Without a word. Without hesitation.
Abandoning me there in the most humiliating position imaginable, all so he could run to Violet over some minor accident.
How fucking laughable.
It was the clearest proof yet: I meant nothing to him.
Absolutely nothing.
Had he finally come home and noticed I wasn’t there?
