Darius rubbed the back of his neck, genuine confusion written across his face.
"So that's what this is about?" His brows drew together. "Marianne, as far as I know, anyone could've gotten hurt in that situation. It was an accident. What exactly does that have to do with Verona?"
I stared at him.
And suddenly, I felt tired beyond words.
How could I explain something to someone who didn't want to understand? How could I compete with a woman he kept choosing over and over again?
I didn't have the strength anymore.
"You're right." I nodded slowly. "I was being petty. That's obviously the problem here." The words tasted like poison. "Happy now?"
Darius opened his mouth but nothing came out.
For the first time since I'd known him, he looked completely lost.
He kept staring at me as though something important was slipping through his fingers, something he couldn't identify no matter how hard he tried.
But he was too late. I pulled the blanket higher and turned onto my side. The movement pulled painfully at the burns beneath the bandages, but I barely reacted.
Behind me, Darius remained standing there for a long time.
Finally, he spoke.
"Marianne, that's not what I meant. You know that's not what I meant."
I didn't answer.
A moment later, he stepped closer and adjusted the blanket where it had slipped from my shoulder. Once, that small gesture would've meant everything to me. Now it felt hollow.
"Get some rest." His voice softened again. "I've got work to deal with, but I'll come back as soon as I'm done. We'll talk when you're feeling better." Then he left, and almost immediately, my phone began to ring.
"The arrangements are set for next week."
Mrs. Davenport's cold voice came through the phone.
"When the time comes, leave immediately. Don't play games with me, Marianne. If I find out you're trying anything clever, I won't be as patient as I was two years ago."
A quiet laugh escaped me.
"You don't have to worry. I'll leave exactly as promised.”
"Good."
"Frankly, this is the smartest decision you've made in years."
My grip tightened around the phone.
"You couldn't even save your own child. Lara died right under your nose, and there was nothing you could do about it. Do you know how pathetic that is?"
The words hit like a knife driven straight into an old wound.
I closed my eyes.
Even now, hearing Lara's name felt like having my heart torn open all over again.
"Mrs. Davenport—"
"No. Listen to me." Her voice hardened further. "You and Darius should've divorced a long time ago. Faking your death and disappearing is the right thing to do. At least this way, my son can finally move on and marry the woman he actually belongs with. I like Verona far more than I ever liked you."
"Then congratulations, Mrs. Davenport." My voice came out surprisingly calm. "You'll finally get the daughter-in-law you've always wanted."
She fell silent.
“Once I'm gone, neither you nor Darius will ever see me again.
And before she could respond, I ended the call.
"What do you mean nobody's ever going to see you again?"
The voice behind me made my heart nearly stop.
I looked up and found Darius standing in the doorway. His dark eyes were fixed on me, and from the expression on his face, it was obvious he had heard enough. I immediately ended the call, but the damage was already done.
"It's nothing," I said. "Just a friend."
Darius stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "A friend? That's a pretty strange conversation to have with a friend. Usually when people start talking about never seeing each other again, something a lot bigger is going on."
"They were ending the friendship. Apparently we had a disagreement and now we're supposed to pretend the other person doesn't exist anymore. It was dramatic, but that's all it was."
He stared at me for several long seconds, clearly unconvinced. For a moment, I thought he would keep questioning me, but instead he shook his head and dropped the subject.
"Whatever. Just stay away from people who make you upset. You already have enough to deal with right now."
He tossed his phone onto the bedside table and sat beside me. His hand brushed against mine naturally, almost absentmindedly, but I quietly moved my fingers away before he could hold on.
The movement was small, yet I still saw the change in his expression. Something dark flashed through his eyes before disappearing so quickly that someone else might have missed it.
...
The next five days felt suffocating.
Darius barely left the hospital room. He handled company meetings through video calls, barked orders at executives, threatened people from La Serpienten over the phone, and somehow still found time to keep track of every medication the nurses gave me. Sometimes I would wake up during the night and find him sitting beside the bed, watching me with an intensity that made my chest feel heavy.
Five years ago, I would have mistaken that look for devotion.
Now I wasn't sure what it meant anymore.
Every conversation between us ended in silence. Every touch felt forced. The colder I became, the more restless Darius seemed. I noticed it in the way he paced around the room, the way his eyes kept drifting toward me, and the way his patience grew thinner every day. Something was bothering him, but he couldn't seem to figure out what it was.
The day I was discharged, he never showed up.
There were no calls, no messages, and no explanation.
I wasn't surprised.
After completing the paperwork myself, I left the hospital and went straight to my lawyer's office. There, I handed over the divorce agreement and signed the authorization documents that would allow him to proceed even if I wasn't present. Once that was finished, I returned to the villa and began packing.
There wasn't much I wanted to take with me. Most of what filled the villa belonged to a life I no longer wanted. In the end, I packed only a few clothes, my parents' belongings, several albums of Lara, and her precious urn.
The villa felt strangely empty as I moved from room to room.
Maybe because I already knew I was never coming back.
I had just finished sealing the final box when the bedroom door slammed open hard enough to crash against the wall.
I turned sharply.
Darius stormed into the room.
His face was terrifying. Without saying a word, he crossed the room and grabbed my wrist.
"What the fuck is wrong with you? Have you completely lost your mind?"
I stared at him in confusion. "What are you talking about? What happened?"
His grip tightened. "You're still pretending you don't know? Even now you're going to stand there and act innocent?"
Before I could react, he threw a stack of photographs against my chest. They scattered across the floor between us.
"Tell me something, Marianne. When exactly did you become this fucking vicious?"
I looked down and immediately understood.
The photographs were all of Verona.
Some showed her being dragged into a vehicle. Others appeared to have been taken during the week she spent in captivity. The later photographs were worse. Bruises covered her skin, a brand had been burned into her shoulder, and the fear in her eyes was impossible to miss. The entire story was laid out in front of me without anyone needing to explain it.
A cold feeling settled inside my chest.
Not because of what had happened to Verona.
Because I already knew where this conversation was heading.
"Darius... Are you accusing me?"
His jaw tightened immediately. "Who else would I accuse? Give me one reason to suspect somebody else."
