I stayed in the hospital for another day after that. My body was still drained, every movement feeling heavier than it should’ve been, but it wasn’t the physical pain that bothered me most—it was the quiet. The kind that makes you think too much.

I kept telling myself Matteo would come. Maybe not to apologize, but at least to check if I was still breathing properly after everything.

But when the door finally opened, hope died immediately.

The first words out of his mouth were sharp and careless.

“So you really bailed on the client?” he said, like he was annoyed about a missed appointment. “Seriously, Aria? I sold you for that deal. All you had to do was play along so I could close it.”

I went still.

My throat tightened. “You… sold me?” I repeated slowly, as if saying it differently would make it less real. “Have you lost your mind?”

He didn’t even look ashamed. Not even a little.

“I needed the money,” he answered flatly. “And I’m your husband. That means I can use whatever I have to. You just messed it up.”

My hands curled into fists under the blanket.

“So instead of asking me,” I shot back, voice rising, “you decided to hand me over like I’m nothing? They hurt me, Matteo. They—”

He cut me off without even blinking.

“I need more than what you’re giving me, Aria. And don’t act innocent. You’ve been hiding things from me. You think I don’t know you’ve been pulling clients away?”

I let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

“I didn’t steal anything from you,” I said firmly. “If they choose to work with me, that’s not my fault. Maybe your company just isn’t good enough.”

His jaw tightened, and then he scoffed.

“Or maybe,” he said slowly, “you’ve been using other methods to get them on your side.”

I stared at him, disgust rising in my chest.

“What did you just say?”

“You heard me.” His eyes darkened. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about the man who pulled you out of that mess. Who is he to you? Huh? Some lover hiding in the shadows?”

My voice spiked.

“There is no one!” I snapped. “I don’t have anyone! Or maybe you’re the one cheating and now you’re trying to pin this on me!”

That was when it happened.

A sudden crack filled the room.

My head snapped to the side as his hand struck my face. Pain bloomed instantly, sharp and hot. I tasted metal on my lip.

“This is your fault,” he said coldly, like nothing had just happened. “Because of you, I lost that deal. So fix it. Go back there if you have to. Smile, flirt—whatever it takes. And if not, you’ll hand over everything your company owns.”

My ears rang, but I forced myself to speak through the shaking in my voice.

“You’d really say that to me?” I whispered. “After everything? I lost our baby, Matteo. I can’t even— I can’t get pregnant anymore.”

For the first time, he looked at me properly.

No emotion. No hesitation. Nothing.

“So what?” he said coldly. “It’s just a baby. It’s not like I ever cared about having one with you anyway.”

My breath caught.

It felt like the world stopped for a second—like even the air forgot how to move.

Before I could respond, he already turned around and walked out.

The door clicked shut behind him.

And that silence… that was the moment I broke.

My hands shook as I covered my face, and everything I had been holding in finally spilled out. Not quiet tears—real, ugly crying that came from somewhere deep I couldn’t control.

Because it wasn’t just pain anymore.

It was understanding.

The man I loved… wasn’t coming back.

Or maybe he had never been there at all.

And then, without warning, the memories came rushing in.

Back to the beginning.

When Matteo and I weren’t lovers, weren’t even close—just two people forced into a marriage built on competition and resentment.

We fought like it was second nature.

Deadlines, clients, proposals, even stupid things like office layouts—nothing was ever peaceful between us.

“You really think you’re better than me just because your father handed you half the company?” he once snapped during a meeting, voice cutting through the room.

I didn’t even hesitate.

“At least I didn’t get mine handed over on a silver plate,” I fired back. “You’re just scared I’ll actually outperform you.”

His chair scraped loudly as he stood.

“You’re impossible,” he growled.

“And you’re arrogant,” I shot back just as fast.

That was us back then—constant fire, no space for softness. Sometimes he’d grab my wrist when I tried to walk away. Sometimes I’d shove him right back. We didn’t know how to exist without clashing.

We were chaos pretending to be married.

But then, little by little, things shifted.

The shouting didn’t stop—but it softened.

He started appearing in my office without reason, placing coffee beside my documents like it was normal. He’d sit in on meetings he didn’t need to attend. He’d ask questions he didn’t used to care about.

One night, I remember him setting a bowl of soup beside my laptop.

“You’re going to get sick if you keep skipping meals,” he said casually.

I looked up at him, surprised.

“Since when did you start worrying about me?” I asked, half teasing.

He just shrugged like it was nothing. “You’re my wife. It’s my responsibility.”

And weirdly… that made me smile.

For the first time, I thought maybe we were changing. Maybe this wasn’t just an arrangement anymore.

Maybe we were becoming something real.

He became gentler after that. He started remembering dates. He kissed me goodnight like it was normal. He looked at me like I mattered.

And I believed it.

I fell completely.

But now, lying in that hospital bed, everything made sense in the cruelest way possible.

It was never love.

It was control.

A performance I was too stupid to question.

I wiped my face roughly, grabbed my phone, and forced my breathing to steady.

When my lawyer picked up, my voice didn’t shake.

“Mr. Wells,” I said quietly, “prepare my divorce papers.”

There was a pause on the other line.

“Mrs. Grant… that won’t be easy,” he said carefully.

“Why not?” I asked sharply.

“Your families are bound by multiple agreements. Your father and Mr. Grant’s father would need to approve it. This could collapse the entire alliance—”

“I don’t care,” I cut in immediately. “Just prepare it.”

Another hesitation.

“Even if I draft it,” he continued, “you’ll still need your father’s approval. Without it, this won’t move forward legally—”

“I’ll handle my father,” I said coldly. “Just do your part.”

“…Understood, Mrs. Grant.”

“One more thing,” I added after a pause. “Redirect every investor and partner we can reach. Move them under my company. I don’t want Matteo left with anything.”

By the time I left the hospital, I went alone.

The ride home was quiet, but my mind wasn’t.

And when I stepped into the hallway of the house, I froze.

Voices.

Low, intimate… and unmistakably his.

Matteo.

And a woman.

My stomach turned as I followed the sound, every step heavier than the last. I didn’t even think—I just pushed the door open.

What I saw made everything inside me go still.

He didn’t even pretend to stop.

No panic. No guilt.

Just a brief glance in my direction before continuing like I wasn’t even there.

Like I didn’t matter at all.

My nails dug into my palms as I forced myself to breathe.

Then I spoke—calm, controlled, and completely done.

“We’re getting a divorce,” I said evenly. “I’m finished. With you. With this marriage. With every lie you’ve ever told me.”

“Let’s end this marriage. I want a divorce,” I said, my tone steady, almost frighteningly calm. “I’m finished with your lies, your betrayal… everything you’ve put me through.”

He let out a laugh—low, empty, without warmth. “Divorce?” he repeated as if I’d said something ridiculous. “That’s never happening. I’m not letting you go, Aria. I’ll make sure you suffer instead. Just watch.”

Then, as if I were already irrelevant, he turned back to the woman beside him, his hand sliding over her like I wasn’t even there. “I’ll be with someone else then,” he added loudly, deliberately, making sure every word cut through me.

My stomach twisted. “So this is it?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady. “You’re destroying our marriage over a business deal you lost? This is your revenge?”

His eyes snapped to mine—cold, sharp, unfeeling. “No,” he said flatly. “This is because you’ve been unfaithful.” His voice dropped lower, edged with something dangerous. “And if I ever find the man who took you that night… I’ll make sure he disappears.”

And just like that, he went back to her as if nothing important had been said.

I stood there, stunned, watching him act like I was nothing more than background noise. And that night didn’t end there.

It became a pattern.

New women every night. Different faces, different laughter, different perfume lingering through the hallways like a mark he wanted me to see. He didn’t even try to hide it. It was deliberate—doors left slightly open, voices echoing just loud enough for me to hear.

One evening, while I was folding laundry on the bed, he casually tossed a small box toward me.

It slid across the sheets. Condoms.

“Get a bigger pack next time,” he said without even looking up. “And don’t forget extras. These things don’t last long.”

I stared at him, disbelief turning into anger, then picked it up and threw it straight back. It hit his chest.

“Grow up,” I said sharply.

He only shrugged like I was overreacting. “If you refuse to deal with it, then fine,” he replied. “But make sure the girls get paid tonight. Accounting needs everything documented.”

My hands curled into fists. “So now I’m supposed to fund your affairs?”

“You’re my wife,” he said casually, almost bored. “Handle it. That’s what you do.”

That was the moment something inside me stopped breaking… and started hardening.

I picked up the packet, shoved it into my bag, and went to work the next day like nothing had happened. I signed the transfer papers he pushed in front of me without even reading them. My signature stayed steady.

Because I learned quickly—I couldn’t fight him yet.

Not openly.

So I played the role he wanted. I managed his mess, paid for his nights, smiled when I had to. All the while, I collected everything I could—documents, investor connections, leverage. Let him think I was obedient. Let him think I was still his.

But inside, I was already planning my exit.

I was going to leave.

And I was going to take everything he depended on with me.

When I told my father, I expected anger or at least understanding. Instead, his expression turned cold, almost disappointed.

“It’s your responsibility to keep your husband in line,” he said sharply. “Divorce is out of the question. Not now. The alliance matters too much.”

My chest tightened. “You want me to stay with him after everything he’s done? He literally sold me—”

“You know what’s at stake,” he interrupted. “Sometimes you don’t get to choose what’s right for you.”

I left before I broke down completely.

The only place I could go was Bianca’s house.

She opened the door without hesitation and pulled me inside the moment she saw my face. No questions. Just silence and her arms around me until my shaking slowed.

“Bianca…” My voice cracked before I could finish.

She guided me to the couch. Mason, her little boy, clung to her skirt before walking over and placing his tiny hand on my knee.

“Auntie Aria?” he asked softly.

“I’m okay, sweetheart,” I lied, even though my voice betrayed me.

Bianca had been with me through everything—college nights, arguments with my father, even the early days of my marriage when I still thought Matteo and I could fix things. Over time, she became more like family than a friend. I loved Mason like my own child, especially after his father left them behind.

She gently wiped my tears. “Tell me what happened.”

So I did.

And she listened. Quiet. Focused. Calm.

But sometimes the people closest to you are the ones you trust the most.

One day, I left work early. I wanted to surprise her, maybe stay over like we used to. Her door wasn’t locked, so I walked in quietly, expecting nothing more than a normal afternoon.

Then I heard voices.

I stopped.

Bianca’s voice came first—uneasy, tense. “You should leave before she gets here. If you stay, we’ll get caught. I’m tired of hiding, Matteo… of hiding Mason. When are you actually going to make this official?”

My blood ran cold.

Then Matteo answered, calm as ever. “Soon. I just need a little more time. You know how important this is. Once everything is settled, I’ll take care of it. You and Mason will finally have my name… and I’ll get rid of her and her father.”

A pause.

Then Bianca again, frustrated. “You’ve been saying that forever. I can’t keep living like this. Mason needs stability—he needs a father.”

He gave a soft laugh. “Patience,” he said. “She’ll figure it out eventually. After that, we won’t need to hide anymore.”

Her voice turned sharper. “She’s so blind… she has no idea we’ve been doing this behind her back all this time.”

Everything in me went still.

Every memory. Every laugh. Every comfort she gave me. Every moment I trusted her.

It was all staged.

I didn’t wait to hear more.

I left without a sound, got into my car, and just drove.

I ended up at the pier.

The same place Matteo once told me we’d build our future.

The wind was cold, biting. The sea restless.

I removed my ring slowly, staring at it like it belonged to someone else’s life. My hand shook—but I didn’t stop.

Then I threw it.

It disappeared into the waves without a trace.

Gone.

Like everything it used to mean.

I pulled out my phone, fingers still trembling but my decision already made.

“Vincent,” I said quietly when he answered. “Come get me. Let’s get married.”

The wind hit my face harder that time.

But for the first time in a long while…

I felt like I could finally breathe.

I packed my suitcase in silence, my hands trembling slightly as I folded each piece of clothing with care I didn’t really feel. My heart was beating too loudly in my chest, but I kept my expression neutral, controlled—like I had already decided this a long time ago.

When Matteo stepped into the room, he stopped dead.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

I didn’t even glance at him as I zipped the bag. “If you’re not going to agree to a divorce, then that’s fine. I’m still leaving. I’m not staying here while you slowly destroy me.”

His expression darkened instantly. “You don’t get to leave.”

I finally looked at him. “I already decided I am.”

He moved forward fast, grabbing my wrist. “Don’t push me, Aria.”

I jerked my arm away. “I’m done being pushed around.”

His hand came down before I could react.

The slap rang out loud across the room—sharp, humiliating, burning on impact. My face turned with the force of it, pain blooming instantly across my cheek.

Something inside me snapped.

Without thinking, I swung back and hit him across the face. “How dare you!” I shouted. “I’ve tolerated you long enough! I’m not letting you control me anymore—”

A small voice suddenly cut through the chaos.

“Aunt Aria?”

Mason stood at the doorway, holding his toy car tightly in both hands. His eyes were wide, already glassy with tears. “Why are you fighting? Are you okay? Are you hurting my Aunt Aria? You’re mean!”

Matteo hesitated for a fraction of a second. Annoyance flickered… then something almost like guilt.

“I thought you were good,” Mason said shakily, his voice breaking.

“Mason, go to your room,” Matteo ordered, sharper now.

Behind him, Bianca appeared, slightly out of breath. “Hey—hey, it’s okay,” she said quickly, forcing a nervous smile. “Bad timing. I just came to check on Aria… Mason just wanted to see her.”

“Wanted to see me?” I let out a bitter laugh. “How touching. Everyone’s just playing roles now, huh?”

Bianca blinked like she didn’t understand. “What are you talking about? Did you two argue again? Aria, you should calm down before this gets worse—”

“Shut up,” I said suddenly.

Before anyone could react, I stepped forward and slapped her across the face.

The sound cracked through the room like a gunshot.

She staggered back, clutching her cheek. “Aria… what are you doing? Why are you like this?”

“Stop acting innocent,” I hissed. “Tell me the truth—who is Mason’s father?”

Her eyes flickered. “This isn’t the right time… Mason is here—this is sensitive—”

“Don’t you dare use him as an excuse!” I snapped. I grabbed the photos I had been holding and threw them at her.

They scattered across the floor—images of Matteo and Bianca together, too close, too familiar… and Mason in the middle like proof of everything I had refused to see.

“I know everything now!” I said through clenched teeth.

Matteo didn’t shout. That was worse.

He just exGrantd and said calmly, “Good. Then we don’t have to pretend anymore.”

He turned slightly toward Bianca. “Stop crying. It’s pointless.”

“Matteo, please…” she sobbed.

“Enough.” His voice was final. Then, to me: “Aria, you had your chance. I’ll take Mason legally. I’ll adopt him. He’ll carry my name. That’s what he deserves.”

Mason’s crying grew louder.

“Be quiet!” I snapped, my voice breaking as frustration took over. I loved him… I did—but after everything, I couldn’t even look at him without feeling pain.

Mason hiccupped between sobs.

Matteo stepped in front of him immediately. “Don’t yell at him!” he barked. “He’s my son! And you? You’re nothing but a piece in this game. Now that everything’s out, good—Bianca stays here.”

“Then let her stay,” I said coldly, my voice steady again. “That’s exactly why I’m leaving. I’m not staying to watch you build your little fake family while I fall apart.”

He let out a short, harsh laugh. “No. You’re not going anywhere.” His eyes sharpened. “I can’t let you run to my father and ruin everything before I secure my position. You think you can just walk out and expose me? I still have leverage. I can sell you again if I want. Don’t forget your value.”

Heat surged through me so fast my vision blurred. “You wouldn’t—”

Bianca flinched, suddenly soft again. “Matteo, stop… this isn’t the time—”

Her voice shook just enough to sound real. I used to fall for that softness. I didn’t anymore.

“Enough pretending,” I said sharply. “I see through both of you now.”

Her face changed instantly. The innocence disappeared.

“You don’t get to act like a victim,” she snapped. “You threw everything away. You ran off. You left chaos behind you.”

Each word hit like a strike.

“Bianca—” I started, but she shoved me.

Hard.

I stumbled into the kitchen counter, pain flaring through my side.

Mason screamed and ran between us. “Stop! Please stop!”

“Get away!” Matteo shouted.

He moved forward too quickly. His arm swung—meant for me—but Mason was in the way.

The impact made the child stumble violently. He hit the edge of the table and collapsed to the floor.

A sharp, piercing cry filled the room.

“Mason!” Bianca screamed, dropping instantly to her knees and pulling him into her arms. “It’s okay, baby… Mommy’s here…”

I went completely still. My stomach dropped.

“He hit him,” I whispered, then louder, “You HIT HIM!”

Matteo turned on me instantly. “This is your fault! If you didn’t escalate things, he wouldn’t have been there!”

“Don’t you blame me!” I yelled, stepping forward.

But before I could move again, he grabbed my hair.

Pain exploded across my scalp as he yanked me down and sideways. I gasped, losing my balance immediately.

“How dare you hurt my son,” he growled into my face, his grip tightening until my vision blurred.

“Matteo—stop—” I choked.

He shoved me hard.

I slammed into the table, ribs hitting first, pain shooting through my entire body. My face struck the wood as everything spun.

And just like that, they were gone.

The door shut.

Silence swallowed the house.

That night, I checked into a hotel under a false name. The city outside looked distant, unreal—lights flickering like something already fading away.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my suitcase like it belonged to someone else.

My phone lit up.

Vincent.

I’m coming for you soon. We’ll leave it all behind.

I exGrantd shakily.

I made it out.

Or at least… I thought I did.

A knock came.

Sharp. Official.

Not his.

I frowned slightly. “Come in.”

The door opened.

Two police officers stepped inside.

“Mrs. Aria Grant?” one asked.

“Yes?” I answered slowly.

“You are under arrest for the attempted murder of Mason Grant.”

My body went cold.

“What?” I whispered.

The officer stepped forward. “Please cooperate, ma’am.”

The room tilted violently.

My knees gave out.

“No…” I breathed. “That’s not true…”

But it was already too late.

The cuffs locked around my wrists—cold, final, inescapable.