“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.

“It wasn’t me,” I repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, my voice breaking at the edges. “I never hurt him. I didn’t hurt anyone!”

The interrogation room felt colder under the harsh fluorescent lights buzzing above us, the sound drilling into my skull as if it was trying to wear me down. My wrists were still sore from the cuffs, and my throat felt raw from shouting the same truth over and over. Across the metal table, two officers watched me with the same blank, unreadable faces.

“Mrs. Grant,” one of them said in a measured tone, “multiple witnesses say you physically pushed the child. The findings we have—”

“I didn’t!” My voice cracked mid-sentence. “It wasn’t like that. It was an accident. Matteo—he was there—he saw it—”

The door suddenly opened.

My head snapped up instantly, relief rushing through me for half a second because I thought it was my lawyer.

But it wasn’t.

Matteo walked in instead.

He looked completely composed, like he hadn’t slept in chaos or betrayal or anything at all—perfect suit, perfect posture, not a single crease out of place. His face, however, was carved with something colder than anger.

Disappointment. Contempt.

“Aria,” he said quietly, almost like he was talking to someone foolish. “What exactly have you done now?”

My voice dropped to a whisper. “You know what happened. You were there—”

I didn’t even get to finish.

His hand came fast.

The impact of the slap rang through the room, sharp and humiliating. My head turned with the force of it, my cheek burning instantly.

“Matteo!” one of the officers snapped, standing up, but Matteo only raised a hand slightly, as if apologizing for a minor inconvenience.

“I’m sorry,” he said smoothly, though his tone carried none of it. “It’s just… difficult watching her behave like this after everything she’s done.”

I could taste blood in my mouth, metallic and bitter. “You…” My voice shook. “You actually hit me.”

He didn’t even look at me when he answered the officers.

“My wife—soon to be ex-wife, hopefully—assaulted my son,” he said calmly. “She also attacked my mistress when she tried to stop her. She’s unstable. We’ve been trying to get her professional help for a while now, but she refuses treatment.”

My stomach dropped.

“Mistress?” I whispered, disbelief barely forming the word. “You’re really saying that out loud now?”

His gaze finally shifted to me, steady and unbothered. “Yes. She’s currently in the hospital. Bruised. Possibly worse. And Mason…” He paused, shaking his head like it pained him to continue. “He’s terrified of you.”

“You’re lying,” I said immediately, shaking my head. “All of it.”

He leaned slightly forward. “Then prove otherwise.”

But I had nothing. No recordings. No witnesses who would speak for me. No one.

That night, they processed me anyway.

I barely registered the ride to the station, only flashes of camera lights, reporters shouting questions I couldn’t understand, and the word murder floating around like a curse I couldn’t wash off.

By morning, they said I could be released on bail while the investigation continued. It sounded like relief, but it wasn’t.

It felt like a trap dressed as mercy.

All I wanted was to go home.

To tell my father the truth.

To make him see I wasn’t the monster Matteo was painting me into.

My hands shook as I signed the papers. My lawyer kept talking—something about staying silent, about truth eventually coming out—but it all blurred together.

All I could hear was my heartbeat and the dull hum of the world outside the station.

When I finally stepped into the car, I exGrantd shakily for the first time in what felt like days.

I was free.

Or so I believed.

Halfway through the ride, headlights suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

Everything happened too fast.

Tires screamed against asphalt. A horn blared. The world tilted violently as if it had been ripped off its axis.

Then came the crash.

Metal screamed. Glass shattered. Everything went white—then black.

When I came to, pain was everywhere.

My neck. My ribs. My legs. I tried to move, but nothing responded the way it should have.

Panic rose instantly.

“What—what’s wrong with me?” I gasped.

A nurse rushed in, her voice trying to stay calm. “Ma’am, please try not to panic.”

“My legs,” I whispered, voice shaking. “I can’t feel my legs.”

She hesitated before answering. “You were in a severe accident. You’re lucky to be alive.”

I tried to sit up, but my body didn’t feel like mine anymore. It felt distant—wrong, disconnected.

That’s when it truly sank in.

“My legs don’t move,” I said again, quieter this time.

The nurse avoided my eyes. “The doctors are doing everything possible.”

That night, the ward was quiet.

Too quiet.

But I wasn’t alone.

Voices drifted from outside my room—low, tense, familiar.

One of them was Matteo.

“Just keep her under observation,” he said coldly. “Make it look like treatment is ongoing.”

A doctor responded nervously, “Sir, with proper therapy she might regain—”

“No,” Matteo cut in immediately. “I don’t want that. I prefer her like this. Helpless. Easier to control. She can’t run around, can’t interfere, can’t ruin anything anymore. At least now she knows where she belongs.”

My breath stopped in my throat.

The doctor hesitated. “That’s… not ethical.”

“I don’t care,” Matteo said flatly. “Do your job. Keep her alive, keep her quiet. That’s all she’s useful for. She can watch from there while I live my life.”

Their footsteps faded down the hallway.

I lay frozen, gripping the sheets so tightly my fingers ached. Tears blurred my vision, but I refused to let them fall.

He hadn’t just taken my freedom.

He was rewriting my entire existence.

Later, the door opened again.

I quickly shut my eyes, pretending to sleep.

Matteo walked in.

He stopped beside the bed, hands in his pockets, looking at me like I was something he owned.

“So still,” he murmured. “Almost peaceful. I might like you better like this.”

I watched him through the reflection on the tray beside me.

He smiled faintly.

“Don’t worry,” he added, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “I’ll visit. You’ll get to watch everything from here. Me, Bianca… even Mason. Maybe I’ll bring him sometimes. So you don’t forget what a real family looks like.”

He chuckled softly before turning away.

The door closed behind him.

And I broke.

Not loudly. Not dramatically.

Just silent, suffocating sobs that tore through my chest while my body refused to move. I wanted to scream, to get up, to destroy something—anything.

But I couldn’t even stand.

My body had become a prison I couldn’t escape.

The next day, she came.

Bianca.

She looked almost angelic—white outfit, soft smile, flowers in her hands. Like she had stepped out of a perfect life that didn’t include betrayal.

“Oh, Aria,” she said gently, setting the flowers down. “You poor thing.”

She leaned closer, her perfume overwhelming, suffocating. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of Matteo now while you recover… for however long that takes.”

Then she tilted her head, smiling faintly.

“Maybe this is for the best. You were never really enough for him anyway.”

My throat tightened, but no words came out.

She left just as easily as she came, humming softly like she hadn’t shattered what was left of me.

That night, the lights dimmed, and I thought it was finally over.

Maybe this was what the end felt like.

Quiet. Empty. Forgotten.

Then—

A click.

The door opened again.

“You’re safe now,” a voice whispered.

Vincent.

He was already beside me in seconds, eyes sharp with urgency. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. We’re leaving. Now.”

He lifted me carefully into his arms.

The hospital vanished behind us as we slipped out through a back exit. A black car waited outside, engine already running. He placed me inside, then drove without hesitation, city lights smearing into long, blurred streaks outside the window.

Later, a small plane waited on a hidden runway, engines humming softly.

He carried me up the steps and settled me inside. The cabin was dim, quiet, almost unreal. He buckled me in gently, brushing my hair back once before stepping away.

As the plane lifted off, the ground below shrank into darkness.

For the first time in a long time, something loosened in my chest.

Not pain.

Not fear.

Something closer to hope.

Tears slipped down my face silently, but they didn’t feel like breaking anymore.

I stared out at the endless sky, my thoughts steady, quiet, certain.

And in that silence, I promised myself—

When I stand again…

They will all regret everything.