I gasped, shooting up from the bed, my heart hammering in my chest. Cold sweat clung to my skin, and my breath came in shallow, panicked bursts. I reached for my stomach, the impact of the fall still vivid, still fresh in my mind. But there was no pain. No broken bones.
I was in my bed. “Good morning, beautiful,” Luca’s voice murmured beside me, and I flinched as his arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer. His warm breath fanned against my neck, but it felt suffocating. My skin crawled, every inch of my body recoiling. I stiffened, turning my head to glance at him. His blue eyes were soft, filled with the affection I once craved. His golden hair was rough from sleep. It was just a dream, I told myself. Just a nightmare. But it felt real. Too real. I could still feel the air rushing past me as I fell from the balcony, Luca’s cold words echoing in my mind: "You’re mine. You always will be." I forced a smile, my heart pounding in my chest as I whispered, “Morning.” Luca kissed my head, completely oblivious to what was going on inside me. “I’ve got a meeting today, so I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up for me, alright?” I nodded, swallowing hard as he got out of bed and walked toward the bathroom, whistling softly like absolutely nothing had happened. I turned to my phone on the nightstand, the screen lighting up as I unlocked it. The date flashed before my eyes, and my stomach lurched from shock. October 19, 2021. Three years ago. My breath caught in my throat, my vision spinning. *This isn’t possible. I stared at the date again, disbelief washing over me. I should be three years into the future, pregnant, and dead at the bottom of our mansion. But I’ve been brought back. Back when I was still his obedient wife. My hands trembled, and I gripped the phone tighter, trying to calm my racing thoughts. The nightmare I had just woken from—it hadn’t been a dream. It was a warning. A glimpse of what was to come if I let history repeat itself. I closed my eyes, Luca’s cruel face flashing before me as he shoved me off the balcony. I won’t let that happen again. Not this time. I wasn’t the same woman I had been three years ago. I had been given a second chance. Luca came out of the bathroom, toweling his hair, completely unaware. “You alright, babe?” I forced another smile, despising the way he called me so sweetly. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. "Vivian!" Clarissa’s voice cut through the air, sharp as a knife. "Get down here. Who’s going to cook breakfast?" On instinct, I got up and quickly dressed. I made my way downstairs in a heartbeat to see Clarissa already waiting in the kitchen. "You seem to sleep like a log. Have you forgotten you are my son’s wife?" she snarled. Diane chose that moment to drop a glass. "Go and clean it up," Clarissa ordered. I picked up a broom and bent down to clean up the pieces of glass. I froze as something wet began to drip onto my head. I glanced up to see Diane, grinning smugly. "Oops." In that moment, something in me snapped. I stood up and slapped Diane straight across the face. What followed was stunned silence. Then I heard Luca growl. "Vivian." He stomped toward me from the stairs, his eyes blazing with anger. He didn’t give me a chance to speak before he hit me across the face so hard that I stumbled and fell. For a moment, I sat there. I let it all sink in. This was the real Luca. The part of him he kept at bay as long as I followed orders like an obedient fool. But the moment I defended myself... I got up, raising my chin. "How dare you?" I snapped. They all stared at me like I had grown a second head. "What’s gotten into this bitch?" Clarissa asked her son. I’d had enough. "Get out!" Clarissa and Diane blinked, the look of astonishment on their faces almost too satisfying. Clarissa’s face morphed, "Who are you to tell me to—" "This is my fucking house," I reminded her. "It’s my name on the deed, not your son’s." She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Diane had turned as pale as a ghost. "Luca, do something." "Yes, Luca, get your whore of a wife under control," James butted in. Luca’s eyes darkened as he stepped forward, his voice low and chilling. “I always suspected that one day you’d forget your place.” He didn’t wait for my response. He left and came back with a manila envelope and threw it onto the kitchen counter. I blinked, my pulse racing. “What’s this?” I asked, already knowing. “Divorce papers,” he sneered, folding his arms. “If you’re so unhappy with the life you’ve been so graciously given, then sign them. But if you’ve come to your senses, you’ll fall to your knees and beg for my forgiveness. Maybe—just maybe—I’ll let you stay.” The silence in the kitchen was suffocating. Clarissa had a smug grin on her face, while James stood there, arms crossed, looking proud of his son’s move. They were all waiting for me to break, to crumble under Luca’s threat. But I was done. This was exactly what I wanted. I grabbed the pen from the counter without hesitation and signed my name at the bottom of the divorce papers. The sound of the pen scratching against the paper was the only noise in the room, and it was like music to my ears. Luca’s face twisted with disbelief. Suddenly shock took over his expression. "Are you demented? You actually signed them?" I shoved the papers back toward him, meeting his stunned gaze with a calmness I didn’t even know I had. “Yes. I’m done, Luca.” The room exploded into chaos. They were all speaking at once, but I didn’t hear a thing. Luca’s reaction was visceral. “You think this is over?” His voice was venomous. He went upstairs and came back with my luggage. He threw it at me with a force that made me stumble back. “You’ll come crawling back, Vivian. You think you can just leave? You’ll be begging to return.” I stood tall, my heart steady, gripping the suitcase handle. “No, I won’t.” Without another word, I turned on my heel and walked toward the door. My body was trembling, but I kept my head high. “Vivian!” Luca’s voice followed me, furious and disbelieving. “You’ll regret this! You’ll beg to come back. I am giving you a chance to come to your senses." I didn’t look back. The door slammed shut behind me, and for the first time in years, I felt free.I stood at the ATM, my fingers trembling slightly as I inserted my card. The machine whirred, the screen flashing before delivering a message that felt like a punch to my gut:Transaction Declined.I tried again, but the same message popped up. My heart sank, frustration and panic rising in my chest. Of course, Luca had frozen my account. He wouldn’t make it easy for me to leave. He’d make sure I had nothing.I clenched my fists, resisting the urge to scream in the middle of the bank. Fine, I thought. I didn’t need his money.I hurried outside, grabbing my suitcase and walking toward the nearest hotel. I had stashed some cash inside the lining of my suitcase—a lesson I’d learned long ago in case of emergencies. Luca didn’t know about it, and it would be enough to cover me for a few days.The hotel lobby was quiet, and I wasted no time booking a room. The receptionist didn’t ask too many questions, and soon enough, I was alone, sitting on the edge of the bed, my suitcase open in front
I barely had time to process the shock of Dante Moretti kissing me—Luca's fucking uncle—when I heard a familiar voice cut through the haze of my alcohol-addled mind. "What the hell is this?" Luca stood a few feet away, his face contorted with rage. Evelyn was clinging to his arm, her expression a perfect mix of shock and poorly disguised delight at the drama unfolding. I stepped back from Dante, my heart hammering against my ribs. The remnants of his cologne still clung to me, making it hard to think straight. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. Dante, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed. He straightened his tie—the one I'd just been gripping moments ago—and turned to face his nephew with a cool, almost bored expression. "Luca," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "I didn't realize you were paying attention to your wife tonight. I thought you were too busy with..." His eyes flicked dismissively to Evelyn. Luca's face reddened, a vein throbbing visibly at hi
The restaurant Dante took me to was the kind of place I'd never have entered on my own. Not because I couldn't afford it—before Luca had frozen my accounts, I'd been wealthy in my own right—but because these establishments radiated an exclusivity that always made me uncomfortable. The maître d' greeted Dante by name and immediately led us to a secluded table in the back, away from prying eyes. No reservation necessary, apparently. "Mr. Moretti, always a pleasure," he said, pulling out my chair. "Your usual table." Dante gave a slight nod of acknowledgment as we sat down. "Thank you, Philippe. We'll start with the '09 Bordeaux." "An excellent choice, sir." Once we were alone, an awkward silence fell between us. The alcohol was wearing off, leaving me with a clearer head and a growing awareness of how bizarre this situation was. I was sitting across from Luca's uncle, a man I'd barely exchanged ten words with at family functions over the years, after he'd just kissed me senseless at
Dante's car was a sleek black Aston Martin that purred rather than roared when he started the engine. The leather seats were buttery soft against my skin, and the interior smelled of expensive cologne and new car. "Where are you staying?" he asked as we pulled away from the restaurant. I hesitated, then gave him the name of my modest hotel. His expression remained neutral, but I saw his fingers tighten slightly on the steering wheel. "That's in a rough area," he commented. "It was what I could afford on short notice," I said defensively. "Someone froze all my accounts today." Dante's jaw tightened. "Luca's doing, I assume." "Who else?" I stared out the window at the passing city lights. "I had some emergency cash hidden away. It'll last me until I figure things out." We drove in silence for a few minutes before Dante spoke again. "I have properties sitting empty. Penthouses, apartments, townhouses. You could stay at one of them while you get back on your feet." I turned to look
I woke the next morning with a pounding headache and the taste of expensive wine still lingering on my tongue. For a blissful moment, I forgot everything—where I was, what had happened, what I'd done. Then reality crashed back, and I groaned, pulling the thin pillow over my face. I'd kissed Dante Moretti. Luca's uncle. And he'd kissed me back, then offered to help me destroy Luca's life. What the hell was I supposed to do with that? My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I reached for it blindly, squinting at the screen. Three missed calls from Luca and a text message: Where the fuck are you? We need to talk. This ridiculous tantrum has gone on long enough. I snorted and tossed the phone aside without responding. Ten years of marriage, and he still thought he could treat me like a misbehaving child. Not anymore. I forced myself out of bed and into the tiny bathroom, grimacing at my reflection. My makeup from last night was smudged around my eyes, giving me a raccoon-like appearan
I stared up at the building in front of me, trying to keep my expression neutral even as my stomach did little flips. This wasn't just an apartment building. It was a fucking luxury high-rise in the heart of the financial district, all gleaming glass and steel reaching toward the clouds. "This is the property?" I asked Marcus, knowing damn well it was. "Yes, ma'am. Mr. Moretti owns the entire building." Of course he did. Marcus led me through a lobby that looked more like a five-star hotel than an apartment building. The security guard nodded respectfully as we passed, and the elevator required a key card to access the upper floors. We rode in silence to the thirty-eighth floor, my apprehension growing with every floor we ascended. The elevator opened directly into a private foyer. Marcus used the key card to unlock a set of double doors, then stepped aside. "After you, Ms. Caldwell." I walked in and immediately stopped short. The apartment was stunning—open concept with floor-t
The next morning, after a night spent in the most comfortable bed I'd ever slept in, I made myself coffee in the gourmet kitchen and sat at the island with my new laptop. Time to start looking for a job. Dinner with Dante had been... interesting. He'd taken me to another exclusive restaurant where he was clearly a regular. We'd talked more about Luca's business vulnerabilities, about potential ways to undermine him professionally. Dante was methodical, strategic, thinking several moves ahead like we were playing chess. He'd asked questions about Luca's upcoming deals, his financial status, his relationship with key investors. I'd answered honestly, seeing no reason to protect Luca anymore. But I'd also made it clear I wasn't committing to anything yet. "I need time," I'd told him. "This is all happening fast." Dante had agreed, seeming content to let me settle into the apartment and think things over. He hadn't tried to kiss me again, maintaining a respectful distance throughout th
Tom's warehouse was on the industrial side of town, a large facility that housed his manufacturing and distribution operations. He greeted me warmly when I arrived, looking a bit sheepish. "I should warn you," he said as he led me to a small office. "Luca called me this morning." My stomach dropped. "What did he want?" "To tell me not to work with you. Said you were unstable, that you'd stolen company information before leaving." I gritted my teeth. "That's a lie." "I know," Tom said, surprising me. "Luca's been... different lately. Cutting corners, breaking promises. I was already thinking of taking my business elsewhere." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, the job's still yours if you want it." Relief washed over me. "Thank you, Tom. I really appreciate it." "Don't thank me yet," he said with a wry smile, opening the office door. "Wait till you see the mess you're dealing with." He wasn't kidding. The office was filled with stacks of paper, disorganized files, and an ancient com
A week passed in something resembling a routine. I continued working at Tom's warehouse, gradually bringing order to his chaotic business operations. True to his word, Dante arranged for visible security—a woman named Ria who looked like she could snap a man's neck without breaking a sweat, but who also had a surprisingly dry sense of humor."You don't look like a typical bodyguard," I'd told her on the first day.She'd smirked. "That's the point. The ones who look the part are the first to get taken out."Ria shadowed me discreetly, always within sight but never hovering. She accompanied me to and from work in the car Dante continued to provide despite my insistence that I could pay for my own transportation once I received my first paycheck."Consider it part of the security package," he'd said, smoothly overriding my objections.I hadn't seen any more threatening notes, and Luca had stopped calling, which should have been a relief. Instead, the silence made me uneasy, like the calm
The next morning, I woke to the sound of someone in the apartment. I froze, panic surging through me until I heard Marcus's voice calling out. "Ms. Caldwell? It's Marcus. I've brought your things from the hotel." I relaxed, wrapping a robe around myself before emerging from the bedroom. "You could have called first." "My apologies," he said, looking genuinely contrite. "Mr. Moretti suggested I come early so you'd have everything before work." Several bags sat by the front door—all my belongings from the hotel, plus some shopping bags I didn't recognize. "What are those?" I asked, pointing to the unfamiliar bags. "Mr. Moretti took the liberty of having some professional attire sent over. He thought you might need more options for your new position." I bristled at the presumption, then reminded myself that I had, in fact, been lamenting my limited wardrobe just yesterday. Still, it was unsettling how Dante seemed to anticipate my needs before I voiced them. "Tell Mr. Moretti than
Vanguard Tower was an imposing structure in the heart of downtown, sleek and modern like Dante himself. The security desk in the lobby stopped me, of course, but one call upstairs had them issuing me a visitor's pass with surprising speed. The elevator whisked me to the top floor, where a receptionist greeted me with a polite smile. "Ms. Caldwell, Mr. Moretti is expecting you. This way, please." Of course he was expecting me. Marcus had probably called ahead the moment I hung up on him. The receptionist led me down a corridor to a set of heavy wooden doors, which she opened with a respectful knock. "Ms. Caldwell to see you, sir." Dante's office was exactly what I'd expected—spacious, tastefully decorated, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a commanding view of the city. He sat behind a massive desk, looking up from some papers as I entered. He didn't seem the least bit surprised to see me. "Vivian," he said, standing. "This is a pleasant surprise." "Is it?" I crossed my arms.
Tom's warehouse was on the industrial side of town, a large facility that housed his manufacturing and distribution operations. He greeted me warmly when I arrived, looking a bit sheepish. "I should warn you," he said as he led me to a small office. "Luca called me this morning." My stomach dropped. "What did he want?" "To tell me not to work with you. Said you were unstable, that you'd stolen company information before leaving." I gritted my teeth. "That's a lie." "I know," Tom said, surprising me. "Luca's been... different lately. Cutting corners, breaking promises. I was already thinking of taking my business elsewhere." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, the job's still yours if you want it." Relief washed over me. "Thank you, Tom. I really appreciate it." "Don't thank me yet," he said with a wry smile, opening the office door. "Wait till you see the mess you're dealing with." He wasn't kidding. The office was filled with stacks of paper, disorganized files, and an ancient com
The next morning, after a night spent in the most comfortable bed I'd ever slept in, I made myself coffee in the gourmet kitchen and sat at the island with my new laptop. Time to start looking for a job. Dinner with Dante had been... interesting. He'd taken me to another exclusive restaurant where he was clearly a regular. We'd talked more about Luca's business vulnerabilities, about potential ways to undermine him professionally. Dante was methodical, strategic, thinking several moves ahead like we were playing chess. He'd asked questions about Luca's upcoming deals, his financial status, his relationship with key investors. I'd answered honestly, seeing no reason to protect Luca anymore. But I'd also made it clear I wasn't committing to anything yet. "I need time," I'd told him. "This is all happening fast." Dante had agreed, seeming content to let me settle into the apartment and think things over. He hadn't tried to kiss me again, maintaining a respectful distance throughout th
I stared up at the building in front of me, trying to keep my expression neutral even as my stomach did little flips. This wasn't just an apartment building. It was a fucking luxury high-rise in the heart of the financial district, all gleaming glass and steel reaching toward the clouds. "This is the property?" I asked Marcus, knowing damn well it was. "Yes, ma'am. Mr. Moretti owns the entire building." Of course he did. Marcus led me through a lobby that looked more like a five-star hotel than an apartment building. The security guard nodded respectfully as we passed, and the elevator required a key card to access the upper floors. We rode in silence to the thirty-eighth floor, my apprehension growing with every floor we ascended. The elevator opened directly into a private foyer. Marcus used the key card to unlock a set of double doors, then stepped aside. "After you, Ms. Caldwell." I walked in and immediately stopped short. The apartment was stunning—open concept with floor-t
I woke the next morning with a pounding headache and the taste of expensive wine still lingering on my tongue. For a blissful moment, I forgot everything—where I was, what had happened, what I'd done. Then reality crashed back, and I groaned, pulling the thin pillow over my face. I'd kissed Dante Moretti. Luca's uncle. And he'd kissed me back, then offered to help me destroy Luca's life. What the hell was I supposed to do with that? My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I reached for it blindly, squinting at the screen. Three missed calls from Luca and a text message: Where the fuck are you? We need to talk. This ridiculous tantrum has gone on long enough. I snorted and tossed the phone aside without responding. Ten years of marriage, and he still thought he could treat me like a misbehaving child. Not anymore. I forced myself out of bed and into the tiny bathroom, grimacing at my reflection. My makeup from last night was smudged around my eyes, giving me a raccoon-like appearan
Dante's car was a sleek black Aston Martin that purred rather than roared when he started the engine. The leather seats were buttery soft against my skin, and the interior smelled of expensive cologne and new car. "Where are you staying?" he asked as we pulled away from the restaurant. I hesitated, then gave him the name of my modest hotel. His expression remained neutral, but I saw his fingers tighten slightly on the steering wheel. "That's in a rough area," he commented. "It was what I could afford on short notice," I said defensively. "Someone froze all my accounts today." Dante's jaw tightened. "Luca's doing, I assume." "Who else?" I stared out the window at the passing city lights. "I had some emergency cash hidden away. It'll last me until I figure things out." We drove in silence for a few minutes before Dante spoke again. "I have properties sitting empty. Penthouses, apartments, townhouses. You could stay at one of them while you get back on your feet." I turned to look
The restaurant Dante took me to was the kind of place I'd never have entered on my own. Not because I couldn't afford it—before Luca had frozen my accounts, I'd been wealthy in my own right—but because these establishments radiated an exclusivity that always made me uncomfortable. The maître d' greeted Dante by name and immediately led us to a secluded table in the back, away from prying eyes. No reservation necessary, apparently. "Mr. Moretti, always a pleasure," he said, pulling out my chair. "Your usual table." Dante gave a slight nod of acknowledgment as we sat down. "Thank you, Philippe. We'll start with the '09 Bordeaux." "An excellent choice, sir." Once we were alone, an awkward silence fell between us. The alcohol was wearing off, leaving me with a clearer head and a growing awareness of how bizarre this situation was. I was sitting across from Luca's uncle, a man I'd barely exchanged ten words with at family functions over the years, after he'd just kissed me senseless at