He Faked Amnesia To Abandon His Wife

Vitiel

room, brittle and awkward. Gia was preening, wiping a smudge of c

perfume mixed with the stench of hypocrisy was making me nauseous. I

scour the image of his mou

physical slap. I walked to the far end of the stone balcony,

e city lights. Just breathe, I told myself. You

eave this life. The Vitiello name, the Rizzoli

me on the wind. Low.

hing it too

onsigliere. The voice of

voice replied, seething with irritation. "'Some

The one you're pub

er won't sanction an annulment. The Vitiello alliance is too important. But if she leaves? If she breaches the contract bec

d turne

?" Loren

ack to her daddy, I'll cut Gia loose. Give it six months. Then, miraculously, the fog will lift. My memory will return. I'll go to Elena, apologize,

y mouth to stifle the sc

cruelty. It w

idn't want a wife; he wanted a dog that wouldn't bite. Every tear

him, the memories of Montauk, the poetry book-it wa

ing to slow, until I heard the terrace door

e. My heels made no

ear anymore. The p

I was horrified. I had been

lounge where the guests left their coats and personal items. I needed my purse. I needed my

n the door t

mmered agai

was

olding a small, leather-bound book. My diary. The one I kept in my purse. The o

p, his eyes

g a trip

nning the page. "Seattle? What is in S

h the casual indifference of a ma

. My voice wasn't shaking

toward me. "Are you running awa

ll part of his plan. He

ontained the drafts of my n

k. Instinct t

ged f

. I wasn't trying to hurt him; I was reclaiming my l

pping it from his grip. "Nothin