My Ex-Husband's Regret, My Freedom

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xpensive Persian rug. I moved silently, placing the ball of my foot down before the heel. It was an evasion tactic I

flickering orange light from the fireplace spilled through t

inst the cold wall ri

's voice drifted out. It wasn't her usual meek, submissive

Gia would knock on my bedroom door. She would stand there, her head bowed obediently, holding a steaming cup

I sat in a sterile doctor's office and listened to a specialist tell m

ay. The puzzle pieces violently snapped together. The tea. The infer

isor. I heard the rustle of thick parchment paper being turned. "Per Mr. Dante's instructio

they broke the skin. Leo. The bastard child Gi

y. He wouldn't even look at him. Now, he was handing

a calculated, slow-motion murder of

nds. But I forced the rage down, burying it under a block of ice. I knew the rules of our world. Exposi

n the voice recorder, and pressed the micr

olutely certain you want to strip Aria of all her mar

man who had once taken a knife to

tched for ten ag

nte final

at. It sounded mechanical, stripped of any human

shred of hope in my

ut. I immediately spun around and retreated i

the front door. She was smiling brightly, playing the perfect, gracious host

around, humming a light Italian folk tune, and

adows and crept back to

tyrant who slaughtered his enemies without blink

t the edge of the velvet sofa, loo

aw paral

, had his back to the door. His custom suit jacket was discarded on th

, she held a delicate porcelain teacup, steam rising from it, carrying

chable Godfather h