I have been married to Lorenzo DeLuca for seven years. Seven long years as the silent, obedient wife of a man who saw me as nothing more than a placeholder. In those seven years, I had lost count of the women who drifted in and out of our penthouse like they owned the place, each one younger and bolder than the last.

It had stopped hurting after the first few years. I had learned to compartmentalize, to shut out the laughter, the moans, the whispered promises that weren’t meant for me. My existence had become one of quiet endurance—waiting for the day I could finally leave.

Tonight, the latest plaything was sprawled across the leather couch in Lorenzo’s private lounge, her bare legs draped over his lap as she twirled a glass of expensive whiskey in her manicured fingers. Sienna Moretti—fresh-faced, barely out of college, and dangerously smug.

I stood by the bar, pouring myself a drink, pretending not to notice as she turned to me with a slow, lazy smile.

“So, you’re the old lady Lorenzo keeps around?” she mused, tilting her head. “I thought he was exaggerating, but wow. No wonder he doesn’t touch you.”

Lorenzo chuckled, his arm resting casually along the back of the couch. “Sienna, don’t be rude,” he said, though the smirk tugging at his lips told me he wasn’t the least bit concerned.

Sienna slid closer to him, pressing her lips against his jaw. “I mean, come on, Lorenzo. Why keep a wife you don’t even want? It’s embarrassing.”

I didn’t respond. I had learned a long time ago that words were useless with Lorenzo. Instead, I downed my drink and turned away, heading for the elevator that would take me to the upper floors of the penthouse.

His world was dark—smoke-filled clubs, whispered deals in dull rooms, the metallic scent of blood lingering in the air long after it was spilled. I had spent seven years pretending I didn’t notice the things that went on behind closed doors, pretending I wasn’t aware of the power he held over the city, over me. But I had never belonged in this world.

As the elevator doors slid shut behind me, I pulled out the thick envelope from the safe in our bedroom—the divorce papers I had prepared six months ago. Just one more week, and I would finally be free.

---

The next morning, the air in the penthouse was thick with the scent of strong espresso and cigar smoke. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the marble floors. I sat in the dining area, going over some documents, trying to focus on anything other than the heavy silence pressing down on me.

Then, my phone buzzed. Three missed calls from Lorenzo.

I ignored them.

A moment later, the penthouse door opened, and I didn’t need to look up to know it was him. His presence filled the space like a storm rolling in, tense and commanding. His movements were sharp and controlled, his tailored suit pristine despite the obvious irritation in his eyes.

“Valentina,” he said, his voice edged with impatience. “Did you not hear your phone?”

“I heard it,” I said simply, not looking up.

Lorenzo’s jaw clenched. “And?”

I finally met his gaze, unbothered. “And I didn’t feel like answering.”

Silence. For the first time in years, Lorenzo seemed genuinely taken aback. Then, slowly, his lips curved into something between amusement and disbelief.

“You’re getting bold,” he murmured, stepping closer. “I almost forgot you had a backbone.”

I sighed, setting my pen down. “Lorenzo, I’m leaving this life soon. None of this matters anymore.”

His expression darkened. “Leaving?”

“Yes.”

Lorenzo scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You’ve lived under my roof, spent my money, enjoyed the luxury of being my wife. And now you think you can just walk away?”

I stood, pushing my chair back with a slow scrape against the marble floor. “Yes, Lorenzo. I do.”

Before he could respond, a new voice entered the conversation, dripping with mockery.

“Oh, the wife’s got some fight in her today.”

Sienna sauntered in from the hallway, dressed in one of Lorenzo’s silk robes, her hair damp from a recent shower. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips.

“If it bothers you so much, why don’t you just strip and throw yourself at Lorenzo?” she sneered. “Oh, right. Even if you did, he wouldn’t be interested.”

I gripped the edge of the table, my nails pressing into the wood.

Lorenzo exhaled sharply. “Sienna, enough.”

But his words lacked pressure . He didn’t really care. He never had.

I turned on my heel and walked toward the kitchen, needing a moment to cool my nerves. I turned on the faucet, watching the water swirl down the drain, my thoughts drifting.

The past seven years had stripped me of so much—my independence, my dignity, my sense of self. But not for much longer. I had planned my escape carefully. I had been quiet, patient. Lorenzo may have built a kingdom of power and blood, but I would not remain a prisoner within it.

Then, suddenly, a hand reached from behind and shut off the water.

I turned sharply, my breath catching as I found myself face-to-face with Lorenzo, his eyes locked onto mine.

“What are you lost in?” His voice was quieter now, almost unreadable.

I looked away, focusing on the dishes in front of me. “It’s nothing. I was just thinking about what comes next after the divorce.”

Lorenzo let out a soft chuckle, as if I had just told him the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Divorce?” His fingers tapped against the counter. “Valentina, you’ve been with me since college. You’ve spent seven years in my world, under my protection. What exactly do you think you’ll do when you leave?”

An outsider,” they called me. “A woman just there to clean up after the real players.”

Their voices used to sting, cutting through me like a blade honed just for that purpose. I used to let their words weigh me down, let them make me doubt my worth. But not anymore.

Seven years ago, I had been just as young, just as full of life as Lorenzo. I had been a different person. That was before my world came crashing down. Before my parents were taken from me in a car crash, leaving me and my ten-year-old brother to fend for ourselves. He had leukemia, and I was just a desperate girl willing to do anything to keep him alive.

I dropped out of school. I worked night shifts, cleaned floors, served drinks, anything that would pay for his medical bills. And when that wasn’t enough, I did what so many desperate women before me had done—I stepped into the shadows of a nightclub, playing a role I never wanted.

That’s where I met Lorenzo.

I was covered in blood the first time I saw him, my own blood. Some drunken client had decided I wasn’t worth the money he’d spent and shattered a bottle against my forehead. The pain had been blinding, but worse than the pain was the humiliation. I had hit rock bottom.

And then, just as I thought I would drown in the misery of it all, a hand reached down, pulling me out.

Lorenzo DeLuca.

He wasn’t just a businessman, like the public believed. He wasn’t just rich—he was powerful, dangerous. The kind of man you didn’t cross.

And that night, he made me an offer. seven million in exchange for seven years of my life. A contract marriage.

I had agreed without hesitation.

He had been clear from the start—this was a business arrangement. He needed a wife with no past, no connections, someone who would look good on paper but wouldn’t make waves. I wasn’t to be seen in public unless necessary. I was given two days a week to leave our penthouse. Other than that, I was his ghost wife, living in a cage made of gold.

At first, I didn’t mind.

At first, I thought I loved him.

But Lorenzo never touched me. He never let me into his world. He never even let me step foot in his bedroom. And when I finally did, when my curiosity got the better of me, I realized why.

There had always been someone else.

Sienna.

She had always been there—his next-door neighbor, seven years younger than me, a girl who had been in his life long before I ever came along.

I had been blind. I had been foolish. And now, I was done.

Yesterday had changed everything.

Yesterday, when I had seen Sienna waltz into Lorenzo's private suite—the one he had never let me enter—I knew. I knew it was time to leave.

“Valentina.” Lorenzo's voice pulled me back to the present, his tone edged with irritation. “You’ve been staring off into space for seven minutes. What the hell is going on in that head of yours?”

I turned to face him, my expression unreadable. “You called me useless, right?” I asked, my voice eerily calm. “Maybe it’s time I get a job.”

Lorenzo arched an eyebrow. “A job?”

“A housekeeper, a maid.” I shrugged. “I’ve spent seven years locked in this penthouse. I haven’t broken any laws. Am I supposed to waste away here forever?”

Lorenzo didn’t reply immediately. His sharp gaze locked onto mine, assessing, calculating. But before he could speak, Sienna’s voice chimed in, sickly sweet and dripping with mockery.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” she purred, stepping into the room.

She was wearing a dress I recognized instantly.

A brand-new couture piece. One Sienna had purchased months ago and had locked away. A dress that had never been worn. A dress I had assumed was meant for me.

But now, it was on SIENNA.

Lorenzo's eyes softened slightly as she twirled in front of him, the fabric swirling around her like she belonged in it. “I didn’t expect you to know my size so well,” she mused, flashing him a smile.

Lorenzo reached for her hand, his usual mask of indifference shifting just slightly. “They look amazing,” he said, nodding. “As long as you love them, I’ll buy you anything.”

And then, right there in front of me, he kissed her.

It wasn’t the kiss that broke me. I had seen him with other women before. I had endured their presence in my home, their voices in my space. No, it wasn’t the kiss.

It was the way Sienna pulled back, a flicker of shyness in her expression as she whispered, “There are others here…” Her gaze flickered to me, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk.

And then she asked the question.

“Do you think the dress Lorenzo chose for me looks good?”

It was a taunt. A final, deliberate jab meant to cut deep.

I stared at her for a long moment, my heart hammering in my chest, my emotions threatening to boil over.

But I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

I forced a small smile, keeping my voice steady. “They’re stunning.”

Sienna’s smirk faltered for just a second, her eyes flickering with something unreadable. She had been expecting an outburst, a reaction, maybe even tears. But all she got was my cold indifference.

Lorenzo gaze shifted between us, his expression unreadable, but I wasn’t stupid. He was waiting to see if I would break.

I didn’t.

Instead, I turned on my heel and left the dining hall, my heels clicking against the marble floors of the penthouse. Every step away from them felt like peeling off a heavy chain.

A week. Just one more week and I would be free.

I locked myself in my room, scrolling through rental listings on my phone, weighing my options. I would have to be careful. Lorenzo had eyes everywhere in this city. The moment I left, I needed to disappear, or he’d find me before I even had a chance to take my first breath of freedom.

A knock at the door shattered my focus.

“I need to head to the club,” Lorenzo said from the doorway, his tone all business. “Sienna is staying here. You’ll keep an eye on her.”

I glanced up at him, raising a brow. “Am I a maid now? Or a babysitter?”

Lorenzo jaw tensed. He wasn’t used to me questioning him. For seven years, I had followed orders without a fight. But now? I had nothing to lose.

His voice dropped lower, colder. “Valentina, don’t forget who put a roof over your head.”

Ah, there it was. The display that I was nothing but a kept woman, a liability to him.

“I haven’t forgotten,” I said smoothly, forcing a smile. “I’ll make sure your little princess doesn’t trip over her own feet.”

Lorenzo’s gaze darkened, but he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he turned toward Sienna, who was standing behind him in the hallway, dressed in one of his shirts like she owned the place.

“I’ll be back soon,” he murmured, brushing a kiss against her forehead. “Be good.”

Sienna beamed up at him like a perfect little doll, her fingers curling around his wrist. “I always am.”

I forced myself to look away. It didn’t matter. None of it did.

The moment the penthouse door shut behind him, the atmosphere shifted.

Sienna sauntered into the living room, plopping down onto the velvet sofa like a queen settling into her throne. “seven years,” she mused, stretching out her legs. “That’s how long you’ve been married to Sienna, right?”

I didn’t respond, only leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping my coffee.

She grinned, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “He told me he’s never touched you.”

I went still.

Sienna tossed her hair over one shoulder, revealing the fresh marks on her neck like battle scars. “What’s it like?” she continued, tilting her head. “To be married to a man for seven years and still be nothing more than a name on paper?”

I met her gaze head-on. “Better than being a temporary distraction.”

Her smile faltered, just for a second. But Sienna was good at recovering.

She sighed dramatically, running a hand over her neck. “You must’ve heard us last night, right? Sienna was making sure you could.” Her giggle was like nails on glass. “I almost feel bad for you. Twenty-six years old and untouched. At this rate, the only way you’ll ever be with a man is if you pay him first.”

I clenched my fingers around my coffee cup but refused to react. That’s what she wanted.

Sienna thrived on chaos.

She crossed her legs, her smirk widening. “No wonder Sienna is sick of you. Who would want a woman who just sits around all day like some forgotten relic?”

I sighed, setting my cup down with a soft clink. “Are we done?”

Sienna’s eyes flashed. She had expected me to break, to yell, to cry. Instead, I was treating her like she was nothing more than a buzzing mosquito.

And that? That pissed her off.

She pushed herself off the couch, sauntering into the kitchen. “Sienna will be so disappointed when he finds out you’ve been such a bad hostess.”

I ignored her. I had more important things to focus on—like making sure I had everything in place before I left this place for good.

That’s when I heard the soft clatter of a cup being placed on the counter.

“I want coffee.”

I glanced at her lazily. “Then make it.”

She gasped, clutching her chest like I had just slapped her. “My, my. Is that any way to treat your guest?”

I didn’t move.

Sienna’s lips curled into a smirk. “Fine. Be difficult.” She grabbed a mug from the cabinet and poured the coffee herself, but I saw the shift in her expression. The glint in her eyes.

Something was coming.

I turned away, but the next second—

CRASH.

A sharp cry pierced the air.

“Ah!” Sienna shrieked, her voice cracking with pain. “It hurts so much!”

The front door slammed open.

I barely had time to react before Sienna was storming into the kitchen, his eyes locking onto Sienna, who was now cradling her wrist, her eyes glistening with tears.

Lorenzo’s gaze snapped to me. “What the hell happened?”

Sienna’s bottom lip trembled as she held up her wrist, where a small, barely-there red mark was beginning to form.

“She… she spilled boiling water on me,” she whispered, her voice wavering just enough to sound convincing.

I inhaled sharply, my fists tightening at my sides. “That’s a lie.”

Lorenzo didn’t even look at me.

His expression darkened, his movements quick.

Before I could react, his hand came down hard against my cheek.

The force of it sent me crashing against the counter, my head snapping to the side. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth as a sharp sting burned across my face.

“You had one job,” Lorenzo growled, his voice dangerously low. “And you couldn’t even do that right.”

Sienna sniffled behind him, her act so well-crafted it would have fooled anyone who didn’t know better.

Lorenzo grabbed her wrist gently, his anger shifting into concern. “Come on, let’s get this looked at.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Leaving me on the cold kitchen floor, my vision blurring, my nightgown soaked with scalding water.

I lifted the hem slightly, staring at the red welts forming on my thighs.

A painful display.

One more week.

Just one more week.