CHAPTER 4

My lipstick was smeared across my mouth—I could feel it without looking. The wall was cool against my palm as I steadied myself, the corridor seeming to tilt slightly under my feet. The kiss still burned on my lips, unexpected and devastating in its intensity. Not at all like Luca's kisses, which had grown mechanical over the years, a duty rather than a desire.

My phone vibrated again in my clutch. I didn't need to look to know it was him. Luca's messages had grown increasingly hostile over the past hour:

You think you can humiliate me like this?

I watched the typing indicator pulse, my stomach clenching.

Who was that man?

Another vibration.

I'll find out who he is.

Answer me, Vivian.

You're making a mistake.

The last one made me laugh, a sharp sound in the empty corridor. The mistake had been marrying him in the first place. The mistake had been believing I could change him, that love was enough to overcome his family's toxicity, his mother's cruelty, his sister's spite.

My hotel key card took three attempts to work, my hands shaking slightly—from the champagne or the adrenaline, I couldn't tell. Inside, I kicked off my heels, leaving them where they fell. The king-sized bed caught me as I collapsed onto it, still in my evening gown. The ceiling spun gently above me.

"What the hell am I doing?" I whispered to the empty room.

The memory hit me like a physical force—so vivid I could smell the river water again.

I was twenty-one, driving home from college late at night. My headlights caught something by the river—a group of men, their shadows long and distorted on the water's surface. They were beating someone. I remember gripping the steering wheel tighter, that moment of hesitation. That voice saying: keep driving, it's not your problem. But then they lifted the man and threw him into the dark water.

I was out of my car before I could think it through, kicking off my shoes. The water was so cold it felt like knives against my skin. I found him by touch more than sight, my hands grabbing fabric, pulling. He was heavy, unconscious. My muscles screamed as I dragged him to shore, my clothes waterlogged and weighing me down.

His face was bloody, but I remember thinking how handsome he was even then. Dante Moretti. Though I hadn't known his name at the time.

"Stay with me," I had whispered, my phone already calling emergency services, my free hand checking his pulse. "Please stay with me."

He had opened his eyes then, just for a moment. The bluest eyes I'd ever seen, looking at me with such intensity that I'd felt it like a physical touch.

A knock at the door shattered the memory.

Through the peephole, Dante stood in the hallway. He'd changed out of his suit into dark jeans and a black henley. The dangerous edge was still there, but softened somehow. He'd positioned himself carefully away from the door, hands visible and loose at his sides.

I opened the door, my heart hammering against my ribs. "It's two in the morning."

"May I come in?" His voice was quiet, controlled. When I nodded, he moved past me with that fluid grace I remembered from earlier. "We need to talk about Luca."

"Do we?" I moved to the mini bar, needing something to do with my hands. "Would you like a drink?"

"I think you've had enough for both of us tonight."

I turned to face him, anger flaring. "I'm perfectly capable of handling my alcohol, and my decisions."

"Are you?" He moved closer, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. "Is that why you kissed a stranger at a party to prove a point to your ex-husband?"

"You kissed me back," I pointed out. "Rather enthusiastically, if I remember correctly."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I did. But I knew exactly who you were."

That pulled me up short. "What?"

"Sit down, Vivian." He gestured to the armchairs. "This is going to be a long conversation."

I sat, more because my legs needed it than because he suggested it. "How long have you known who I am?"

"Since that night by the river." He remained standing, pulling out his phone. "I've been watching him destroy you for years."

"Watching?" The word tasted like ash. "Just watching?"

He handed me his phone. "Not just watching."

The screen showed a folder labeled simply 'L'. Inside were hundreds of files—photos, documents, spreadsheets. I opened one at random: a bank statement showing suspicious transfers. Another: photos of Luca entering hotels with Evelyn, timestamped months ago. A third: documentation of creative accounting that could only be called embezzlement.

"Jesus," I whispered, scrolling through the files. "How long have you been collecting this?"

"Since I learned you were engaged to him." He finally sat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "I tried to warn you about him back then. Do you remember?"

I did, vaguely. A stranger at my engagement party, trying to tell me something about Luca. I'd dismissed him as another jealous business rival. "Why didn't you tell me who you were?"

"Would you have believed me?" His eyes held mine. "Would you have believed anything negative about Luca back then?"

I looked away. "No. I was..." I searched for the right word.

"In love," he finished. "You were in love, and he knew exactly how to use that."

"So why show me this now?"

"Because now you're ready to see it." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black velvet box. "And because I have a proposition for you."

My breath caught. "Dante..."

"Marry me."

I stared at him. "Have you lost your mind?"

"On the contrary." He opened the box. The ring inside was nothing like the ostentatious one Luca had given me. This was elegant, understated, dangerous in its simplicity. "I'm thinking very clearly. You want revenge. I want to help you get it. Marriage would give us the perfect cover and legal standing to dismantle everything he's built."

"Using the evidence you've collected," I said slowly, understanding dawning.

"Among other things." He set the box on the coffee table between us. "I have resources, connections, and a very personal interest in seeing my nephew suffer for what he's done to you."

"Why?" The question had been burning in my throat. "Why do you care what happens to me?"

He was quiet for a long moment. "That night by the river," he finally said, "I was ready to die. Those men—they weren't just random thugs. They were sent to deliver a message. A fatal one. And then this car stops, and this girl jumps into the river without hesitation. Saves my life. Stays with me until help arrives." His eyes met mine. "How could I not care what happens to you after that?"

I swallowed hard. "That was years ago."

"Yes." He stood, his height suddenly overwhelming in the small hotel room. "And I've spent every one of them watching my nephew slowly kill the spirit of the woman who saved my life." He moved to the door, paused. "I'm not asking you to love me, Vivian. I'm offering you what you want most: revenge. Complete, thorough, devastating revenge."

"I need time to think," I managed.

"You have until morning." He left the ring box on the nightstand. "But remember—Luca's already looking for the man you kissed tonight. When he finds out it was me..." He let the implication hang in the air.

The door clicked shut behind him. I sat in the dark, listening to his footsteps fade down the corridor. On the nightstand, my phone lit up with another message from Luca. Beside it, the ring box sat in silence, offering a different kind of prison—or perhaps freedom.

I reached for neither, but I could feel the weight of both choices pressing against my chest, making it hard to breathe. The kiss still tingled on my lips, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I could still feel the icy river water closing over my head as I dove in to save a stranger.

Some decisions, I was learning, echo through the years like ripples in a pond, touching shores you never knew existed.