My body still responded to him, every nerve awakened and sensitive. Entangled breaths filled the room, but once the passion ebbed, a familiar emptiness began creeping in.

Matteo stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, a cigarette between his fingers. Still caught in the remnants of our intimacy, I asked tentatively, “So, Sandra couldn’t satisfy you?”

He paused mid-drag, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “She’s too well-behaved to give up.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to; he just couldn’t let her go.

His words were like a punch to the gut, each syllable plunging me deeper into a cold abyss. I stood there, stunned and empty, as Matteo dressed quickly. Without sparing me another glance, he walked out the door. The click of it closing resonated like a gavel. Moments later, the distant roar of his car's engine signaled his departure.

Before tonight, part of me still held onto hope, clinging to the fragments of our past. But now? I realized Matteo’s father had been right all along: when love is gone, why hold on to something rotten?

With trembling fingers, I picked up my phone and dialed. When the line connected, I spoke calmly, “I accept. I’ll divorce Matteo.”

I set the phone down, surprised by the weight that lifted from my chest. This was not the life I wanted—a marriage built on deceit and mockery. I craved a life that moved forward, one with a clear heart and unshackled freedom.

The next day, I went to the Mendez Group offices, my mind clear and resolute. As I approached the entrance, I overheard whispers from the secretaries’ office.

“Have you noticed how Mr. Mendez treats her differently? The project Ms. Argento was managing is nearly complete and yet it’s being handed to the new girl. Isn’t that giving away credit for free?”

“Why else? The boss obviously likes her.”

“I know! But poor Ms. Argento… I always rooted for her and Mr. Mendez.”

“Typical. The new girl gets all the smiles while the old ones are left with tears.”

The chatter abruptly halted when they noticed me. One of them, clearly uncomfortable, greeted me weakly, “Good morning, Ms. Argento.”

“Good morning,” I replied evenly.

My marriage to Matteo had never been publicly acknowledged; the Mendez Family had refused to recognize it. There had been no wedding ceremony, no fanfare. Even after joining the Mendez Group, I had kept our relationship under wraps to avoid rumors. In hindsight, I realized how fortunate it was that it never became public gossip. Now, my private anguish remained just that—private.

Settling at my desk, I noticed the project folder was gone from its usual place. The workstation opposite mine was also conspicuously empty. I asked, “Is Sandra not here today?”

A coworker replied, “She’s with Mr. Mendez.”

My eyes drifted to Matteo’s office. The blinds were closed tightly, but muted laughter seeped through. I recalled when Sandra first joined. With her warm smile and slight resemblance to me, she had been treated generously, even welcomed as an alum from the same university. In retrospect, it all seemed like a cruel irony.

Determined not to dwell on it, I focused on wrapping up my work. Since I was leaving both my marriage and this job, there was no point in lingering any longer than necessary. I began organizing and documenting my current projects for a smooth handover.

Then, the phone on my desk buzzed. Matteo’s voice came through, commanding as ever. “Come to my office.”

When I entered, the sight before me was almost laughable. Sandra sat at Matteo’s computer and he leaned over her shoulder, their hands almost touching on the mouse.

“Oh no, Mr. Mendez! I accidentally deleted everything!” Sandra exclaimed, feigning distress.

“Don’t worry,” Matteo replied smoothly. “I’ll help you.”

The scene was painfully familiar—a spectacle of calculated naivety and indulgence, like watching an old script play out once more.

Sandra turned to Matteo, her eyes wide and shimmering, as if in awe. “Really?”

He reached over, ruffling her hair with a practiced ease that spoke of familiarity. “When have I ever lied to you?”

They acted as if I wasn’t even there, their closeness deliberated. I knew all too well that this was Sandra’s way of flaunting. Once, I might have fought back, retaliated against her calculated sweetness and challenged Matteo for his disrespect. But now, I had resolved to move on. Neither their petty games nor any semblance of love mattered anymore.

I cleared my throat with a deliberate cough. “Mr. Mendez.”

Both of them turned to look at me.

“I’d like to transfer the project to Sandra,” I said.

“Fine,” Matteo replied easily, as if it were nothing.

“And from now on,” I continued, “I’ll personally supervise her. We’ll switch seats.”

My current spot had a view straight into Matteo’s office, a place I’d occupied since day one at the Mendez Group. It had plenty of sunlight and a good breeze—a place I once enjoyed. Now, any seat would do. I was already halfway out the door.

“Understood,” I said without hesitation. “I’ll make the switch today.”

My easy compliance seemed to unsettle Matteo. His gaze darkened, assessing my reaction. But I remained indifferent. “Is there anything else, Mr. Mendez? If not, I’ll see myself out.”

As I turned to leave, Sandra’s voice followed me. “Is Ms. Argento upset?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Matteo dismissed, his attention already back on Sandra. “Let’s continue.”

Back at my desk, I forced myself to focus, ignoring whatever murmurs might pass through the blinds. I channeled my energy into drafting my resignation. There was no need to prolong the inevitable. I had two other projects near completion; in a month, I would close out my obligations and leave everything behind.

I worked late into the evening, gathering all materials related to the project before setting the files on Sandra’s desk. Without a backward glance, I grabbed my bag and left, arranging to meet my best friend, Lucy, for dinner.

The traffic in the old city crawled to a standstill, but the subway offered me freedom from potential interruptions. I didn’t want Matteo using any excuse to find me.

Over dinner, Lucy eyed me with concern. “March, are you really going through with the divorce?”

Lucy had witnessed the good moments—the genuine love that once defined my relationship with Matteo. The sweet beginning was something she’d never forget. Hearing my decision earlier had come as a shock.

I sipped my tea and nodded. “Yes. I’ll pack tonight and leave Centrale for good.”

“And work?”

“I’ll resign. A clean break is what I need.”

Tears welled in Lucy’s eyes. The determined, fearless March she once knew had returned. “When will you tell him?”

“Tonight.”

And I did.

At 10:30 p.m., Matteo arrived at Centrale. He found me in our second-floor bedroom, kneeling on the plush carpet he once installed for my comfort, packing my things into two large suitcases. He leaned against the doorframe, a smile playing on his lips. “So you texted me to come back and watch you make a scene by running away?”

I met his eyes steadily. “I’m not playing games, Matteo.”

“Then this must be about Sandra. Jealousy suits you.” His gaze burned with amusement, as if my pain were a joke.

“You’re the boss,” I said calmly. “It’s your right to decide where the project goes. And as for Sandra—she’s never been the issue between us.”

Matteo’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing me. “Oh? Then what is the issue?”

“Even if it wasn’t Sandra, there’d be another—Clara or Martha…” My voice trailed off. “A change is a change, Matteo. There’s no ‘why’ behind it.”

He didn’t understand. His smile was mocking, as if our conversation was just another game to him. “Then tell me,” he pressed, leaning closer. “What’s really the problem?”

I ignored his question, switching gears with a colder tone. “Maybe we should discuss your investment in my business.”

He let out a dry laugh. “No matter what the reason is, I don’t have the time or desire to play your rival actor.”

His words hit like a slap and I turned my head away, stung. “What do you mean?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he replied, his voice dripping with disdain. “When your family accepted you back, it was because you were married to me—the Mendez Family’s leverage.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. Matteo’s accusation struck at something I had tried so hard to keep separate: my family’s affairs. I never wanted our relationship tainted by the scheming of the Argento Family, especially not by my father, Johan Argento, who had been relentless with his demands. The countless phone calls, even the surprise visits to Centrale—I had ignored them all. But Matteo was right; my father had likely approached him directly.

Bitterness rose in my throat, heavy and suffocating.

Our tense silence was broken by the abrupt ringing of Matteo’s phone. He answered quickly, his tone brisk. “I’ll be there soon.” Without another word, he turned and left.

As the door clicked shut behind him, I swallowed back the word “divorce” that had been on the tip of my tongue. I went back to packing, determined to leave on my own terms. By midnight, my suitcases were filled, every trace of my life here tucked away.

I picked up my phone, skimming through unread messages before habitually opening my social feed. The latest post was from Sandra, timestamped just five minutes earlier:

“Hospitalized after a car accident. Fortunately, he was there.”

A photo accompanied the post: a hand holding a glass of water. The hand had a distinctive circular scar—Matteo’s, from when he’d once cooked for my birthday. The dim lighting and the light-gray sofa in the background left no doubt; he was with Sandra.

So that’s why he rushed out. I thought we might at least part amicably, but it was clear now he didn’t care. Mentioning divorce to him would only be seen as another one of my “moods.” He believed I would never leave him.

He was wrong.

When he returned to find only a divorce agreement and resignation letter waiting in my place, I wondered how he’d react. Whatever his response, it wouldn’t matter anymore.

The next two weeks blurred together. I immersed myself in work, found a new apartment and ignored the spectacle of Matteo doting on Sandra. Seeing them together used to make me sick, but now it only numbed me.

After the project was completed, Matteo hosted a celebratory banquet for Sandra at the Milan Club’s hotel. I arrived, realizing only then that it was also Sandra’s birthday.

A towering three-tiered cake adorned with pink roses stood as the centerpiece. As everyone watched, Sandra made her wishes aloud.

“My first wish: May Mendez’s Group continue to prosper.”

“My second wish: May Mr. Mendez find happiness and peace.”

Her voice softened as she reached her final wish. She closed her eyes, a knowing smile playing at her lips and blew out the candle marking her twenty-fourth birthday.