Marco's POV:
I saw Bianca settled with a glass of water and a cold compress for her cheek, which was already turning crimson from Lia's slap.
Bianca sobbed the whole time, recounting how terrified she'd been, how Lia had looked at her with such raw hatred.
When I finally went back downstairs, the foyer was empty. Lia's suitcase was gone.
"Where is she?" I demanded from the staff, who were huddled discreetly by the kitchen door.
The head maid, Maria, stepped forward, her face carefully blank. "Mrs. Bellini-formerly Mrs. Bellini-left with her luggage, sir. She said she would not be back."
Bianca, who had followed me down, smirked behind her hand.
I scoffed, a knot of irritation tightening in my gut. "Let her go. She's throwing a tantrum. We'll see how long she lasts without me."
She had nowhere to go. No money of her own. Her family, I'd always assumed, were simple country folk. She'd come crawling back.
Two days later, my irritation had grown into a steady, simmering anger. She hadn't called. Hadn't texted.
I finally caved and sent her a text: Come home. Apologize to Bianca and bring her the lemon cake she likes.
No reply.
I sent another. Lia, this is ridiculous. Stop acting like a child.
Nothing.
I called her. It rang twice before hanging up. I called again, only to be sent straight to voicemail. She'd blocked my number.
My rage, a useless, impotent thing, boiled over. I hurled my phone against the wall, the screen spiderwebbing on impact.
Alessia's POV:
The warm sun kissed my skin. For the first time in years, I felt the tension in my shoulders begin to melt away.
I was luxuriating at an exclusive seaside resort two hours down the coast, a place so private and expensive I knew Marco would never think to look for me here.
I savored the freedom, the quiet, the simple taste of my lemon-infused water.
Then I heard a familiar name.
"Marco is just the best, isn't he? He's going to buy me a whole new wardrobe for the baby."
I opened my eyes. Bianca, flanked by two of her vapid friends, stood at the velvet rope that separated the general pool area from the private, members-only cabanas where I was lounging.
The resort staff was politely denying them entry. "I'm sorry, miss. This area is for premium members only."
"Do you know who my boyfriend is?" Bianca huffed. "The entry fee is a million dollars a year! Let me in."
The staff member didn't budge.
Just as Bianca reached for her phone to call Marco, her eyes landed on me. They widened in recognition, then narrowed into venomous slits.
"You," she spat. "How did you get in here?"
The staff member turned to me. "Is there a problem, Miss Romano?"
Bianca's jaw dropped.
"No problem at all," I said, my voice calm, and closed my eyes again.
"Spending Marco's money, are we?" she sneered, her voice dripping with venom. "Enjoy it while it lasts. I'm going to make sure he cuts you off completely."
She pulled out her phone and dialed, her whining voice immediately launching into a tirade about the staff, about being excluded.
A moment later, Marco's voice, unmistakable even from a distance, came through. He was already arranging her entry, eager to prove he could provide anything she wanted. He was paying the one-day guest fee, a staggering fifty thousand dollars, just so she could sit by the same pool as me.
