When class ended, Leo was the first one through the school doors.

A black armored SUV was waiting at the curb, one of Matteo's men at the wheel and another up front. In the back, Sofia sat in a cream dress and heels, polished enough for a gala, not a school pickup.

Leo ran straight to the open door. "Mom!"

Sofia laughed and pulled him into her arms without hesitation. Then she looked at me over his head, pleased with herself.

Matteo was beside her, one arm stretched along the leather behind her shoulders. "Twenty-five and already playing lady of the house?"

Sofia arched a brow. "If you don't like it, I can always let someone else spoil me."

Matteo caught her wrist and tugged her closer. "Try it."

Their laughter followed me into the rain.

At the corner, a sedan from the estate rolled up beside me, all dark glass and quiet obedience. Usually I would have gotten in. This time I kept walking.

I was too humiliated to let one of Matteo's drivers carry me neatly back into his world. Rainwater slid over my phone as I tried to unlock it. Right then, Matteo called.

"Why haven't you been picking up?" he snapped.

"It's pouring. I was just--"

"Doesn't matter. Leo's not coming back to the estate tonight. Sofia's taking him to Bellucci's."

Bellucci's was one of Matteo's restaurants, the kind with a private room upstairs where family business got done behind closed doors.

Then Leo shouted into the phone, thrilled. "Tell Chef Marco not to make that boring healthy plate for me. I'm having truffle fries and steak."

Sofia laughed in the background. "See? I told you. He's a kid. Let him enjoy himself."

And Matteo laughed with her. "At this rate, you'll have the whole house listening to you."

Then Leo asked in a much smaller voice, "Mom won't be mad, will she?"

When the call ended, my fingers closed around two coins in my pocket.

A week earlier, Matteo had asked for roasted chestnuts from an old man outside Leo's school. The vendor only took cash. I had gone out of my way to get some for him. He forgot the bag on the dining table, and I was the one left cleaning up the grease.

That was what loving him had become. I was always the one wiping up what he left behind.

I did not go back to the estate. I went to a lawyer.

By the time Matteo carried a sleeping Leo through the front doors that night, I was waiting in the sitting room with a folder on the table.

"I want a divorce," I said.

That stopped him cold.

"You're serious?" he asked. "Over a birthday?"

"Not one birthday. Five. Five years of being told to step aside while you handed my place to someone else."

He dropped into the armchair opposite me and flipped open the folder without really seeing it. "Sofia is young. She needs more attention. That doesn't change what you are in this house."

"What am I, Matteo?"

His gaze lifted, cool and impatient. "You're my wife. You have my name, my home, my protection. Why are you still fighting a girl for rank when nobody is taking your seat?"

I was too tired to raise my voice. "This is not about Sofia. I just don't want this marriage anymore."

The crystal tumbler in Matteo's hand struck the table hard enough to crack.

"You lived with this for five years, so what changed tonight?"

He stared at me, then stood and reached for his coat. "We leave tomorrow, and I'm not doing this tonight."

The next morning, I still saw them before they left.

Not at a commercial airport, but at the private terminal Matteo used whenever he traveled with men, money, or secrets. Security moved luggage while the crew fueled the jet.

Sofia stood near the stairs in a fitted coat and dark glasses, one hand resting on a silver case of dive gear Matteo had bought for her. The second she saw me, she smiled.

"You know he came to my suite after midnight?" she asked lightly. "Said I shouldn't sleep alone before a flight. Did you two fight?"

"Then maybe you should keep him," I said, nudging Leo toward her. "Sounds like that's what you want."

She took it as surrender and looked delighted.

Matteo came back from speaking to one of his men, took Sofia's hand, and glanced at me.

"Send me your birthday wish," he said. "If it can be done, I'll make it happen."

But Leo was already pulling Sofia toward the jet. The three of them crossed the tarmac like a family I had no place in.

By the time I got home, I was burning with fever.

Half asleep, I dreamed of Matteo at twenty in our first apartment kitchen, testing the temperature of my medicine against his mouth before handing it to me.

"Elena," he said in the dream, "be good. Take it."

When I woke, my phone was vibrating.

"Why didn't you pack Leo's allergy medicine?" Matteo demanded. "You know the salt air sets him off."

"Yesterday, you said I didn't need to pack anything."

There was a pause, then his irritation rushed back. "Fine. Text me the name. You always manage to make things harder at the worst time."

When the call ended, I looked at the screen for a long time and finally let myself cry.

That was the moment it truly ended for me.

I sat down with my lawyer that afternoon and listed every account, property, holding company, and investment tied to our marriage. I did not ask for Leo's custody. Cruel as it was, my son had already chosen his side.

I asked for one thing only.

Matteo was not to have children with any other woman.

He had promised me that once, back when he first swore there would never be another heir to challenge Leo.

Before I left, I went to the Bellandi estate to see his mother.

When my parents died, she was the first person who had ever made me feel cared for in someone else’s home. But when I stepped into the living room, she was on a video call with Malta.

Mrs. Bellandi was smiling at the screen as if she were looking at something perfectly ordinary.

"Sofia is still young," she said. "Girls her age are not built for a life like ours. Be patient with her."

Matteo ruffled Sofia's hair with open fondness. "She's got a temper. One wrong look and she starts a war."

"Then don't cross her," his mother said, amused. "Sofia, sweetheart, eat a little more. You're far too thin."

I was still standing by the foyer, damp from the rain, bag in hand. I had not even taken off my shoes.

So that was the truth of it. Matteo had not run out of tenderness. He had simply given it to someone else, and his mother had made room for her.

Mrs. Bellandi finally noticed me. "Elena. You're here."

"Just passing through," I said. "Don't worry about me. I'm leaving."

It was raining again when I stepped outside.

I walked to the old park by the university because some wounds insist on being opened where they began. Once, beneath those trees, Matteo had kissed me and promised he would never leave unless I asked him to.

At midnight, I sent the divorce agreement to his phone.

I added one line beneath it: This is my birthday wish.

His call came almost immediately.

"Have you lost your mind?" he snarled. "Sofia nearly drowned off the yacht. I looked at your damn message for one second and that's when I missed her going under. She's at the marina clinic now."

My fingers went cold around the phone.

"Get here," he said. "Until she's out of danger, you don't get to disappear on me."

I booked the first flight I could and landed in Malta after dawn.

The clinic was private, discreet, and expensive, the kind of place men like Matteo used when they wanted the best care and the fewest questions. The first person to reach me was Leo.

"Bad Mom!" he cried, hitting my arm with both fists. "This is your fault! You hurt Mommy Sofia!"

I let him hit me and looked past him into the room.

Matteo had clearly not slept. His shirt was wrinkled, his eyes hollow, and when Sofia shifted in the bed, he leaned in at once and held a glass to her lips.

"Slowly," he murmured. "Don't make yourself sick."

Sofia gave me a weak little smile. "Elena. You really came. We were diving off the yacht, and I panicked when I couldn't feel the bottom. I guess I still don't know how to let go of him."

Matteo closed his hand around hers. "Then don't."

Right then, the doctor walked in with her chart.

"Miss Sofia, your bloodwork is back. You're about six weeks pregnant."

The room went silent.

Sofia stared, then broke into breathless laughter. Matteo's whole face changed with relief and wonder.

"No," I said before I realized I had spoken. "You promised me there would never be another child tied to your name."