Chapter 2 - SHE WALKED OUT IN THE RAIN“Where are you going?”
Dante’s question followed me into the hallway.
I did not answer immediately.
Seven years of marriage had taught me that Dante Mercer became most dangerous when he believed he was losing control. Not physically dangerous to me. He had never raised a hand to me.
His weapon was pressure.
A lowered voice.
A carefully chosen sentence.
A reminder of everything we had built together.
I reached the staircase.
“Bella.”
His footsteps came behind me.
I turned.
He had buttoned his shirt, but his feet were still bare. Bianca remained somewhere inside my bedroom.
My bedroom.
The absurdity nearly made me laugh.
“You’re seven months pregnant,” Dante said. “It’s raining. You’re upset.”
“I’m aware of all three.”
“Then don’t leave like this.”
“How should I leave?”
He stopped.
“Tomorrow morning, we can sit down.”
“With Bianca?”
His jaw tightened.
“No.”
“Why not? Apparently she has a vote in this marriage.”
“Stop.”
There it was.
The command.
Once, men twice Dante’s size had stopped speaking when they heard that tone.
I didn’t.
“I’m going to my grandfather’s house.”
His face changed.
For the first time that night, genuine alarm appeared.
“Bella, don’t involve Romano.”
“My grandfather is already involved.”
“He doesn’t know anything.”
“He knows I’m his granddaughter.”
“That isn’t what I mean.”
I looked down at the wedding ring on my hand.
Dante understood before I removed it.
“Don’t.”
One word.
Not angry.
Almost frightened.
I pulled the ring free.
Seven years had left a pale line beneath it.
I placed it on the marble table beside the staircase.
Dante stared at it.
“You’re ending our marriage over one night?”
“One night?”
He looked away.
That was enough.
“How long?”
“Bella.”
“How long?”
“Eight months.”
Something inside me went quiet.
Eight months.
My pregnancy was seven.
I did the math automatically.
Then another thought arrived.
“How pregnant is Bianca?”
Silence.
I already knew.
“Dante.”
“Five months.”
My hand moved instinctively over my belly.
Our daughter kicked.
For one terrible second, I couldn’t breathe.
While Dante held my hand during ultrasounds, he had been building another family.
While we debated nursery colors, Bianca had been carrying his child.
While he kissed my stomach and told our daughter he couldn’t wait to meet her, another woman had been waiting for him.
“You knew?”
Dante’s voice lowered.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Six weeks.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“I was trying to figure out what to do.”
“No. You were waiting to see what you could get away with.”
His expression hardened.
“That’s unfair.”
I stared at him.
“You’re standing outside the bedroom where your pregnant mistress is sitting in my bed, and you just called me unfair.”
His eyes closed briefly.
I walked downstairs.
“Bella!”
He followed.
The foyer guards looked away when they saw us.
That told me something else.
They knew.
Maybe not everything.
Enough.
Humiliation crawled beneath my skin.
I took my coat from the closet.
Dante reached for it.
“Let me drive you.”
“No.”
“At least take a security car.”
“No.”
“Bella, please.”
I turned.
“You dismissed the upstairs detail tonight.”
His hand froze.
“Why?”
He had no answer.
“Because you didn’t want witnesses?”
“Because Bianca was upset.”
I laughed then.
One short, broken sound.
“Your mistress needed privacy in my bedroom.”
“She’s pregnant.”
“So am I.”
That silenced him.
I stepped outside.
Rain blew beneath the portico.
My driver, Marcus Hale, was already pulling the black sedan forward.
Dante came after me.
“Bella, wait.”
I opened the rear door.
His hand landed against it.
“We can fix this.”
I looked at him.
“Can you make me smaller?”
“What?”
“That’s what you need, isn’t it?”
His face tightened.
“A wife who asks permission before she understands something. A woman who makes you feel brilliant by pretending she isn’t.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s exactly what you said.”
Rain darkened his white shirt.
I lowered my voice.
“I spent seven years helping you become the man everyone thinks you are.”
His eyes flashed.
“I built Mercer.”
“Yes.”
“You think I couldn’t have done it without you?”
“No.”
The answer surprised him.
“You could have.”
I swallowed.
“But I made it easier because I loved you. That was my mistake. I thought helping my husband climb meant we were climbing together.”
“Bella—”
“I didn’t realize you were keeping score.”
I got into the car.
He caught the door before Marcus could close it.
“What are you going to tell Romano?”
“The truth.”
Dante went pale.
My grandfather, Lorenzo Romano, had retired from active leadership years ago, but retirement had not made powerful people forget his name.
“Bella, please.”
I looked at the man I had loved since I was twenty-five.
For one second, I wanted him to say the right thing.
Not think about the companies.
Not think about appearances.
Not even forgive me.
Just:
I hurt you.
I was wrong.
Instead he whispered, “If Romano hears about Bianca before I can explain, this could destabilize everything.”
There it was.
Business.
Power.
Reputation.
Even now.
I gently removed his hand from the door.
“You should have thought about that before you put her in my bed.”
Marcus closed the door.
We drove away.
Through the rain-streaked window, I watched Dante grow smaller behind us.
He did not follow.
Twenty-eight minutes later, the gates of Romano House opened.
My grandfather was waiting beneath the entrance lights.
Seventy-four years old.
Silver hair.
Black sweater.
No entourage.
No dramatic display.
He took one look at my face and opened his arms.
That was when I finally cried.
Not upstairs.
Not in front of Dante.
Here.
I buried my face against my grandfather’s chest.
His hand moved slowly over my hair.
“Who?”
That was all he asked.
I pulled back.
“Dante.”
Something terrifying entered Lorenzo Romano’s eyes.
“What did he do?”
I told him.
Everything.
Bianca.
The pregnancy.
The photographs.
Dante’s resentment.
The eight months.
Grandfather listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he walked to the window.
“I warned him once.”
My tears stopped.
“About what?”
Lorenzo turned.
“About envying you.”
I stared at him.
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
“What happened?”
“He asked me to remove you from the Romano-Mercer strategic council.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“He what?”
“He said investors needed to see him as the sole authority.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because he withdrew the request the next morning.”
Grandfather came closer.
“I thought he had understood.”
He hadn’t.
Then Lorenzo said something worse.
“There’s another reason you cannot go back tonight.”
“What?”
He walked to his desk and opened a locked drawer.
Inside was a folder bearing Dante’s signature.
“I received this yesterday.”
I opened it.
My blood went cold.
Dante had quietly proposed transferring controlling rights in three Romano-Mercer holding companies.
Not to himself.
To a newly created trust.
May you like
The trustee’s name was printed on page six.
Bianca Reed.
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