The Runaway Wife: Never Forgiving You
Chapter 3
I saw them on the news three days later.
Dante was parading Sofia at the Opera.
She wore the Vitiello diamonds, glittering cold and sharp against her skin.
The press had already christened her the new First Lady of the underworld.
They said Dante Vitiello had finally found a woman worthy of his fire.
I sat in Luca's hospital room, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.
He was still silent, still sleeping.
"We are leaving, Luca," I whispered to him, my hand resting over his.
I had already bribed a contact in the identity office.
Our names were being scrubbed from the database bit by bit.
We would be ghosts by the end of the week.
I went back to the Hilltop Estate one last time.
It was the house Dante had given me as a wedding gift.
I had sold it that morning to a shell company and transferred the liquid assets back to the Vitiello accounts.
I wanted nothing from him.
I gathered the photos of us.
The ones from the Bronx.
The ones where he actually smiled.
I threw them into the fireplace and struck a match.
I watched our memories curl into black ash and disappear up the chimney.
Suddenly, the front door slammed open.
Dante strode in, Sofia trailing smugly behind him.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice vibrating off the walls.
"Cleaning up," I said evenly.
Sofia saw the jewelry box on the table.
It was open.
Inside lay the Vitiello Heirloom Bracelet.
It was priceless.
"That belongs to the family," Sofia said.
She lunged for it.
She grabbed it, and with a clumsy, theatrical motion, she smashed it against the marble fireplace mantel.
The emeralds shattered across the stone.
She screamed and threw herself down the three steps into the sunken living room.
"My ankle!" she wailed, clutching her leg. "She pushed me!"
Dante looked at the broken bracelet.
He looked at Sofia sobbing on the floor.
He did not look at the security cameras that would have proven my innocence.
He looked at me.
"You break what is mine, I break you," he said, his eyes devoid of mercy.
"Enforcer," he called out.
The giant man entered from the shadows.
"The Lash," Dante ordered.
My blood ran cold.
"Dante, no," I whispered.
He turned away to comfort Sofia.
The Enforcer grabbed my wrists.
He tied them to the high banister so my feet barely touched the ground.
I bit my lip until I tasted copper.
\ The whip struck my back.
One.
Two.
Three.
I did not scream.
I would not give him the satisfaction.
My blood stained the white oak floor.
Dante did not turn around.
He held Sofia's hand while his wife bled out on the floor of the home he had built for her.
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