The moment I see him, tears sting my eyes, and before I can control them, they spill over, trailing hot lines down my face.
He closes the door behind him and walks toward me slowly. When he stops in front of me, looming like a shadow of death, his gaze fixes on mine.
I stare back at him, hopeless and defeated. There’s no way he’ll forgive what’s been done. No way he’ll let me live.
He’s going to kill me tonight.
But then I think, what does it matter? Tonight, tomorrow, a few months from now; my fate has always been death.
He doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t blink. He just stares at me.
And I don’t look away.
There’s nothing left to lose.
I watch his scowl deepen and his hands curl into fists at his sides. Then, after what appears to be an eternity, he turns on his heels and with the same calm he had when he entered, he walks out of the room.
As soon as the door clicks close, I exhale the breath that was caught in my lungs. I collapse onto the bed and let go.
The sobs I’ve been holding in break free, and I cry harder than I’ve ever cried in my life.
I cry for myself. For Tony. For Fabiano.
I don’t know how much time passes. When I finally come back to myself, the soft light of dawn is streaming through the curtains, casting warm streaks across the room.
I climb off the bed and step out onto the terrace.
The world outside feels surreal; lush green trees swaying in the gentle breeze, the golden sun rising in the sky, painting everything in its warm glow. The scent of fresh blossoms fills the air, carried by the soft morning wind.
I breathe it in deeply, filling my lungs with the fragrant air.
And I make a promise to myself.
From now on, I’ll live one day at a time.
I won’t let the past crush me, and I won’t carry tomorrow’s burdens today.
For now, I’ll hold on to this one small mercy: I survived my first night as Carlo Bruni’s wife.
THREE
Tony
Curtains are drawn tight, but a few slivers of light slip through and stab right into my skull. I’m slumped in a chair by the cold fireplace, head pounding like a fucking hammer. Trying to piece together last night.
All I remember is drinking. Non-stop. From the second I woke up, just to make it through the day.I needed it just to walk into that church without ripping Carlo’s fucking throat out. To stand there and watch him take what should’ve been mine—again.
I remember making it to the reception hall. After that, it’s all broken pieces. Rafael, bottles of booze, pussy, tits, and a bed.
The door creaks open, and Rafael walks in, carrying a cup. The rich, bitter aroma tells me it’s coffee.
He hands it to me and gets to the point. “Don Fernando just entered the lobby. You’ve got three minutes before he gets here.”
I glance down at myself. Completely naked. Fantastic.
“How bad did I fuck up last night?” I mutter, taking a swig of coffee.
“You were shitfaced,” he says flat-out. “Grabbing every skirt that moved. I threw you in a room, paid some girl to ride you till dawn. Then I cleaned up your mess and hauled your ass back here.”
