I sat on the edge of the bed, my fingers curled so tightly around the sheets that my knuckles turned white. My whole body felt cold. Empty. I couldn't remember the last time I felt warm, really warm, like the kind of warmth that settled inside your bones and made you feel safe.
Maybe I never had.
I stared at the clock on the wall. The hands moved forward, second by second, dragging time with them. But my life wasn’t moving. I was stuck. Trapped in this house. Trapped in his world.
Lorenzo wasn’t home.
He wouldn’t be for hours.
I knew where he was. I wasn’t stupid, no matter how much he wanted to believe I was. I knew whose bed he was in. I knew the perfume that clung to his shirts when he came home late. The faint smudges of lipstick near his collar. The way he never even tried to hide it.
Because he didn’t have to.
Because he knew I wouldn’t leave.
Because I had nowhere to go.
I pressed a hand against my stomach, forcing down the sickness rising in my throat. I wasn’t going to cry again. Not tonight.
I had wasted too many tears.
My phone lay beside me on the bed. The screen was dark, but I could feel it, waiting. A single object, so small and harmless, but right now, it felt like everything.
I reached for it. My fingers hovered over the screen.
I opened my messages. Typed out a name.
Dante Romano.
It had been years since I last spoke to him. Lorenzo used to mention him sometimes, back when they still worked together. Then Dante vanished. No one said why. But I heard rumors. Whispers.
Dante made people disappear.
He was a ghost. A fixer. A man who knew how to erase everything—money trails, identities, pasts.
People trusted him. People feared him.
And right now, I needed him.
I typed the words before I could second-guess myself.
I need help.
I stared at the screen, heart pounding. I half-expected nothing. Silence. Maybe even an old, disconnected number.
But then—
Three dots appeared.
My breath caught.
Then a message.
Where are you?
I swallowed hard. My fingers shook.
Not safe. Can’t talk now.
A long pause. I held my breath.
Then—
Tomorrow. Midnight. The old place.
I let out a slow, shaky breath. My chest felt tight. My hands were numb.
This was it. The first step.
And I wasn’t going to stop now.
---
Later that night, I heard them.
Voices. Soft, but not too soft. They weren’t hiding. They never did.
I crept to the top of the stairs. My fingers gripped the banister as I peeked down.
Sienna sat on the couch, legs crossed, holding a glass of red wine. She swirled it in her hand, watching the liquid catch the dim light.
Lorenzo stood beside her. His jacket was tossed over a chair. He looked relaxed. Comfortable.
I stayed in the shadows. Just listening.
“She’s pathetic, Lorenzo,” Sienna said, amusement thick in her voice. “Still waiting around like a lost puppy. It’s actually sad.”
I clenched my teeth.
“She’s convenient,” Lorenzo muttered. His voice was cold. Flat. Like I wasn’t even a person. “For now.”
Sienna laughed. A soft, cruel sound. “You should get rid of her. She’s a waste of space.”
I waited. Just for a second. Just to see if he’d disagree.
If he’d defend me. If he’d say something—anything—that meant I still mattered.
But he didn’t.
He just sighed. Bored.
“She doesn’t matter,” he said simply. “She never did.”
Something inside me snapped.
Not loudly. Not in a way anyone could hear.
But I felt it. A sharp, clean break.
I turned away. Walked back to the bedroom. Shut the door behind me.
My hands were steady. My heart was not.
I sat on the bed, staring at my reflection in the vanity mirror.
I had lived in this house for years. I had loved him for years. Given up pieces of myself, little by little, hoping it would be enough.
It never was.
And it never would be.
I had let this happen to me.
I had let myself believe that if I just stayed, if I just tried harder, if I just loved him enough, he would love me back.
But Lorenzo would never love me.
Not the way I wanted. Not the way I deserved.
I would not be a doormat anymore.
I stood.
I was leaving.
For the first time in my life—I was leaving.
And I wasn’t looking back.
