Reclaiming the Harbor, Rewriting My Fate

When my asthma seized my lungs, Lorenzo Marchetti was in the center of the banquet floor, dancing cheek to cheek with his courier.

Even as I foamed at the mouth and slid into unconsciousness, he kept his arms around her, the two of them murmuring and laughing close enough to share breath.

On the drive back to the estate, I found a diamond ring in the glove compartment.

Before I could say a word, Lorenzo frowned, snatched it back, and said coldly,

"It's not for you."

I nodded, pointed at the bridal house up ahead at the intersection, and said evenly,

"Pull over for a second, please."