The wreckage in the study was still on the floor when my phone buzzed.

A text from Dante.

"Done with your tantrum? I'll have someone replace everything. This ends now."

This ends now?

I stared at the words, a wave of dizzying absurdity washing over me. I lost our baby, I destroyed his study, and to him, it was just a tantrum that needed to "end"?

My phone trembled in my hand. Not from anger, but from absolute despair.

And just like that, my heart was dead. Stabbed, the knife pulled out, leaving a gaping hole that would never heal.

I dialed the Romano family lawyer.

"Mr. Peterson, it's Elara. I need you to draw up divorce papers."

There was a pause on the other end.

"Ma'am, are you certain? This could impact the business alliance between the two families…"

"I'm certain," I said, my voice so calm it was chilling. "As fast as you can."

"And... regarding the division of assets? The prenuptial agreement states that if you initiate the divorce…"

"Follow the prenup to the letter," I cut him off. "The house, the cars, the shares—I don't want an extra dime. All I want is my freedom."

Peterson was clearly shocked, but he was a professional. He didn't ask any more questions.

"Very well, Mrs. Moretti. I'll have the documents prepared immediately."

I hung up and walked into our bedroom. Or rather, my bedroom. Dante rarely slept here. Even when he did, it was just to fulfill his husbandly duties before retreating to the guest room.

I opened the closet and started packing.

After three years of marriage, I had so little to show for it. Most of my things were what I'd brought with me from the Romano estate.

Good. It would make leaving that much easier.

Dante came home at ten.

I was waiting for him on the living room sofa. Three copies of the divorce agreement were laid out neatly on the coffee table.

He walked in and froze when he saw the documents.

"What is this?"

"Divorce papers," I said, gesturing to the table. "Just sign."

Dante walked over, picked up the papers, and gave them a cursory glance before scoffing.

"Elara, do you think we're in some soap opera?" He tossed the documents back on the table. "Three years, and you're still the same spoiled brat."

Spoiled brat?

After my mother died, I had to wear a mask of fire and steel just to survive.

But after marrying Dante, I had slowly let my guard down, seduced by his rare moments of gentleness. I kept bending, hoping one day I'd become the wife he wanted.

Clearly, he'd never even noticed.

I swallowed the bitterness. "I'm serious."

"Serious?" Dante sat down across from me, crossing his legs in a posture that was both relaxed and threatening. "Then let me seriously remind you of something. The partnership between the Romano and Moretti families is a three-billion-dollar deal. Do you really think your father will let you throw that away over a little temper tantrum?"

I just watched him, silent.

"And another thing," he continued, his voice growing colder. "Your sister Luna's medical bills are a million a month. Our private hospital gives her the best drugs and equipment in the world. Do you think the Romano family, in its current state, can afford that without me?"

He stood up, looming over me.

My heart ached, but I forced a smile, the same one I used every time we went to war. "You sound so sure of yourself. But what about your precious Ava? Don't you care? If we don't divorce, she'll always be nothing more than your infamous mistress. It seems you don't love her that much after all, Dante."

We stared at each other, the air thick with tension.

Finally, he grabbed a pen, scribbled his name, and threw the papers at me.

"Happy now? Stop this pointless drama. And don't forget your sister still needs me." He snatched his jacket. "I have business to attend to."

The door slammed shut, leaving me alone in the vast, empty living room.

I looked at the signed papers on the table, and the tears finally came.

But this time, crying felt like a release.

Dante didn't know that Luna had been in remission for six months. I'd used my own money to find her the best doctors and then sent her to France. She was in Paris now, studying art, healthy and happy.

I never told anyone, not even my father. I knew that as long as Luna was "sick," it was the leash that bound me to this marriage.

But I finally understood. The real reason I stayed was never my sister. It was my own stupid heart. I thought one day, Dante would see me. That he would love me as a wife.

What a pathetic fantasy.

I picked up my phone and sent a text to Peterson: "Papers signed. File them with the court tomorrow."

My phone vibrated. A picture from an unknown number.

My blood turned to ice.

It was Ava, holding my mother's brooch over the deep, dark sea, looking like she was about to drop it.

If you want it, Marina Bay, dock seven. You have one hour. After that, it's gone. —Ava

I knew this was a trap, but I didn't care. I had to get my mother's brooch back.

When I stepped onto the yacht, Ava was leaning against the railing, a glass of champagne in her hand.

"You finally made it." She turned, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. "I was starting to think the great Romano princess was too good to see someone like me."

"The brooch. Give it back," I said, cutting to the chase.

"Not so fast." Ava walked over to a sofa on the deck and sat down, crossing her legs elegantly. "Let's chat. After all, this might be the last time we get to talk alone."

She pulled the diamond brooch from her purse, turning it slowly in the sunlight. The flashes of light stung my eyes.

"It's beautiful," she sighed. "Dante told me it was the only thing your mother left you. Such a shame she died so young. She never got to see her daughter marry such a wonderful man."

"Give it back to me," I said, fighting to keep my voice from trembling.

"Oh, I forgot." Ava feigned surprise."You're not Dante's wife anymore. He told me you just got divorced. I almost died laughing."

She stood up and walked toward me.

"You know what he said? He said, 'Elara finally let go, so now we can be together for real.'" Her voice was dripping with triumph. "Then he picked me up and spun me around, and told me I was the woman he's been waiting for all these years."

Every word was a knife in my heart. But I wouldn't let her see it.

"Should I congratulate you?" I said, my voice flat. "Now, can I have the brooch back?"

Ava smiled, a look both sweet and vicious. "Seeing as you're about to be a washed-up divorcée, I might consider it."

She stuck out a foot shod in a white high-heeled shoe.

"Kneel. And shine my shoe."

I thought I'd misheard her. "What?"

"You heard me. Kneel and shine my shoe." Ava's smile widened. "Do it, and I'll give you the brooch. It's not too much to ask, is it? It's my property now, after all."

The sea breeze howled in my ears. I felt dizzy.

"What's wrong? The great Romano princess is too proud?" Ava taunted. "Fine. If you don't want it, I'll just throw it away right now."

"Wait!" I cried out. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

Then, I knelt.

"Good girl. That's more like it," Ava's voice was smug. "Use your sleeve. I want them spotless."

My hands shook as I reached out and began to wipe her shoe. The white leather gleamed in the sun as my tears fell, one by one, onto the deck.

"You know, Elara," Ava said, looking down at me, "I've hated you since the first day I met you. I hated your high-and-mighty attitude, your confident smile."

I didn't answer, just mechanically continued the humiliating task.

"But look at you now," she went on. "Kneeling at my feet like a servant. Is this the great Romano princess? A pathetic divorcée who couldn't even hold on to her own baby?"

Her words hit me like a physical blow. I stopped.

"It's clean," I said, getting to my feet, my voice eerily calm.

"Hmm, not bad." Ava inspected her shoe and nodded. "Well then, a deal's a deal…"

She pulled the brooch from her purse and dangled it in front of me.

Then, before I could react, she drew her arm back and threw it. The brooch sailed through the air and disappeared into the sea with a small splash.

"Oops. My hand slipped," she said, her expression one of theatrical shock. "How clumsy of me."

I stared at the spot where the last piece of my mother had vanished into the blue water. My mind went blank.

She stood up, smoothing her dress.

"Thanks for the shoeshine, Elara. It's probably the most useful thing you've ever done. After all, you're not good for much else—couldn't even hold on to a baby. How does it feel to lose a baby? That's what you get for taking the spot that should have been mine. And this is just the beginning."

I understood her meaning then—my miscarriage was her doing.

My sanity snapped.

A wave of pure hatred crashed over me. I grabbed Ava's wrist and dragged her to the railing.

"You vicious bitch!" I tightened my grip on her throat. "You killed my baby!"

There was no fear in Ava's eyes, only triumph. "So what if I did? Who's going to believe you?"

I was breathing heavily, determined to expose her, to make Dante see the monster he was protecting.

Just then, Ava looked over my shoulder and a strange smile spread across her face.

"Elara! Let her go!"

A familiar voice, laced with a murderous rage I had never heard in his voice before, cut through the air from the dock.

I turned. It was Dante, striding onto the yacht with three of his men.

"Dante! Help me!" Ava’s mask of innocence was back on. She struggled in my grip, her voice a desperate sob. "She's crazy! She's trying to kill me!"

Dante's face grew darker. He slowly drew a silver pistol from his jacket and aimed it squarely at my head.

"You crazy bitch. Let. Her. Go."

The hatred in his eyes was a physical blow. My grip slackened.

But in that instant, Ava grabbed my hand and shoved it against herself, propelling her backward. She screamed as she stumbled past the railing and fell into the water. "Ahhh—"

From Dante's perspective, it looked like I had pushed her.

"No!" Dante roared. He dropped the gun and, without a second of hesitation, dived into the ocean after her.

My mind was blank. I watched him swim desperately toward Ava.

Soon, he was back at the yacht's edge, holding a soaked and shivering Ava. His men lowered a ladder and hauled them aboard.

"Ava! Ava, are you okay?" Dante knelt on the deck, clutching her trembling body. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"I… I almost died…" Ava clung to him, shaking from fear and cold. "She really tried to kill me…"

Dante stroked her hair, his eyes filled with anguish. Then he slowly stood and turned to me.

CRACK.

His hand whipped across my face, the force of the slap nearly knocking me to the ground.

"You vicious bitch!" he roared, his eyes burning with hellfire. "How dare you! How dare you hurt her!"

I held my stinging cheek, forcing back the tears.

"What if I told you she jumped?"

"She framed me. She killed our baby, she admitted it herself!"

Dante's face was a mask of disappointment. "Ava would never do something like that! And I told you, the baby was an accident. Are you trying to pin that on her, too?"

I wanted to laugh. It was so absurd.

He believed in Ava's goodness without question but had already condemned me as a monster.

I pointed to a corner of the yacht. "There's a security camera. Watch the footage before you sentence me."

Dante hesitated, a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

But then Ava’s weak voice cut in.

"Dante… my chest hurts… I think I'm dying…"

He immediately spun back to her, scooping her up in a panic. "Don't be scared. I'm taking you to the hospital now."

He held her so carefully, as if she were the most precious porcelain doll in the world.

He paused as he passed me.

"I will look at the footage," he said, his voice as cold as ice. "And if you did this, I will make you pay."

After Dante left, I stared down into the deep, dark water.

My mother's brooch. I couldn't lose it.

Without a second thought, I jumped. I dove again and again, desperately searching the seabed until my limbs were heavy with exhaustion.

My body, still weak from the miscarriage, couldn't take the strain.

I collapsed.

It wasn't until my own security detail noticed something was wrong that I was found and taken to the hospital.

When I woke up, it was the next day.

My phone was filled with missed calls from Dante and our head butler, Roberto.

Ignoring Dante's threats, I called the butler. "Roberto, what's going on?"

Soon, I found out exactly what Dante's revenge was.

"It's terrible, ma'am!" Roberto's voice was frantic. "Mr. Moretti came to the villa with his men!"

"He's… he's going to burn all of your mother's paintings!"