"Divorcing?" Tavio asked. His voice was dangerously quiet. "What do you mean, divorcing me? Who were you talking to?"
Panic flared in my chest, hot and sharp. Had he heard the part about the accounts? Had he heard me authorize the transfers?
I forced myself to breathe.
"You humiliated me," I sobbed, the tears coming easily now. "In the hospital. In front of everyone. You blamed me for losing our baby. You said I was incompetent. You said I couldn't be a mother."
"Baby," he said, taking a step into the room. "Please. I was upset. I was grieving too."
"By blaming me?"
"I'm sorry," he pleaded, dropping to his knees in front of me. He looked up with those blue eyes, the same ones that had fooled me for five years. They were wet with unshed tears. It was a masterclass in manipulation. "I am so, so sorry. I love you. I was out of my mind with grief. Please, don't leave me. Not now. Not when we need each other the most."
I looked down at him. I saw the desperation. It wasn't love; it was fear of losing his claim to the Santoro empire.
"You hurt me, Tavio," I whispered. "You really hurt me."
"I know," he said, kissing my hands. "I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Just... don't do this. Don't throw us away because of one bad day. Let me fix it. Let me take care of you."
"Okay," I said softly. "I... I can't just forget it. But I don't want to be alone right now."
"You won't be," Tavio said, standing up and pulling me into a hug. His grip was tight, possessive. "I'm right here. How about we go out? Just us. A quiet dinner. Get out of this house for a bit. We can talk properly."
"Okay," I nodded against his chest. "I'll forgive you. For now."
"Great," Tavio exhaled, the tension leaving his body. He pulled back and smiled, that charming, boyish smile. "Go get changed. I'll make a reservation at Il Giardino. Your favorite."
"Do you love me?" I asked, looking him directly in the eyes.
"More than anything in the world," he lied without blinking.
"Okay," I said, forcing a weak smile. "I'll get ready."
He kissed my forehead and left the room. As soon as the door clicked shut, my smile vanished.
When I went downstairs, Carina was waiting in the foyer. One of the Family's soldiers stood by the front door, hands clasped, eyes elsewhere. She rushed over to me, her face a picture of concern.
"Ambra!" she cried, pulling me into a hug. "Tavio told me what happened. Oh my god, are you okay?"
I stiffened in her arms. I could smell her perfume. It was the same scent that had been lingering on Tavio's shirt for months.
"I'm fine," I said, pulling away. "Just... tired."
"Don't be harsh on him," Carina said, wiping a fake tear from her cheek. She tucked her hair behind her left ear with a quick, almost nervous motion. "He's really torn up about the baby, Ambra. He loves you so much. Men just... they handle grief differently. You have to forgive him."
It took every ounce of my willpower not to slap her.
"I know," I said. "We're going to dinner to talk things through. Actually..." I paused, an idea forming. If I wanted to torture them, I needed to play their game. "Why don't you come with us?"
Carina blinked. "Me? Oh, I couldn't. It's a date night."
"Please," I insisted, grabbing her hand. "I need my best friend. It will help keep things calm. Tavio won't mind. He loves having you around."
"Okay," she said, squeezing my hand. "If you're sure. I'll come."
The dinner was a farce.
We sat at a corner table in the back of Il Giardino, the kind of table where the Family ate because no one could approach from behind. Tavio sat next to me, his hand on my thigh under the table. Carina sat across from us, sipping her wine and watching us with a tight smile.
I played the part of the devoted wife perfectly. I leaned into Tavio. I laughed at his jokes. I fed him a bite of my dessert. I kissed him on the cheek, lingering, whispering that I loved him.
Every time I touched him, I saw Carina's eye twitch. Every time I laughed, her grip on her wine glass tightened. She was jealous. She was furious that the "broken" wife was suddenly reclaiming her territory.
"I need to use the powder room," Carina announced abruptly, standing up. She didn't look at me. She looked at Tavio, her eyes burning.
"I'll join you," I said, standing up as well.
I followed Carina to the restroom. It was empty, thankfully. As soon as the door closed, Carina spun around to face me.
"You are being too much," she snapped. "Honestly, Ambra. Your husband is grieving and you're practically climbing into his lap in public. It's desperate."
"Desperate?" I asked, leaning against the sink. "I'm just loving my husband, Carina. Is that a problem?"
"It's fake," she hissed. "You were screaming about divorce an hour ago. Now you're all over him? It's pathetic."
"I'm trying to save my marriage," I said calmly. "Unlike some people, I don't give up when things get hard. Tavio needs me. He loves me."
"He feels sorry for you!" Carina shouted. Her mask was slipping. "He's only with you because he pities you!"
"Is that what you think?" I stepped closer to her. "Or are you just jealous because you're alone, Carina? You've always been jealous of me. My clothes, my house, my life. And now, you're jealous of my husband."
"I am not jealous!" she shrieked. "I'm your best friend! I'm trying to help you see reality!"
"The reality is," I said, my voice dropping to a cold whisper, "that you are a leech. You've been living off my generosity for years. And frankly, I'm tired of it."
Carina stared at me, her mouth open. Tears of rage were welling up in her eyes. "How dare you? After everything I've done for you?"
"Done for me?" I laughed. "You mean taking my hand-me-downs? Eating my food? Living in the guest house on Santoro grounds rent-free?"
Carina burst into tears. Real, ugly tears of frustration. She stormed out of the bathroom.
I waited a beat, checked my reflection, and followed her.
Back at the table, Carina was grabbing her purse. Tavio was standing up, looking panicked. The waiter who'd been hovering nearby had retreated. In a place like this, people knew when to disappear.
"What the hell is wrong?" Tavio demanded, his voice rising. "Are you picking a fight with your best friend? Now? After everything today?"
"Yes," I said, sitting down and picking up my wine glass. I took a slow sip.
"Why?" Tavio asked, looking at Carina who was sobbing into a napkin.
"Because she's toxic," I said simply. "And I'm also cutting her from the Family's operations."
Tavio froze. "What?"
"She's incompetent," I said, shrugging. "She's been mishandling the front accounts for months. I've been meaning to do it, but today just clarified things. I don't need negative energy in my life, Tavio. And neither do you."
"You can't do that," Tavio stammered. "She's... she's family."
"No," I said, setting the glass down. "She's an associate. And she's out."
