Chapter 2

My chest felt crushed, like someone had a fist around my heart and was dragging it down.

I looked past the fawning faces and let my gaze settle on a quiet young man in the corner.

"I only want him."

He walked over. His young face still carried a trace of rawness.

"What's your name?" I asked. "Why are you here?"

"Luca Black. Saving up for my sister's tuition."

"How old?"

"Twenty-three."

I felt a pang of something distant.

When I was twenty, I was the scholarship kid who counted every dollar for a three-dollar plate of vegetables in the campus cafeteria.

Then Damon appeared and offered to sponsor my education.

Later, he moved me into his safe house—said it would be more convenient for tutoring if I lived close by.

After that, proximity turned into something more.

On our wedding day, I returned every cent he'd ever given me, principal and interest.

I wanted him to know: I loved him, not his money.

And from that day on, all of Ravenport knew how much Ava Reed loved Damon Croce.

A few drinks in, my throat burned.

I pulled out my phone and transferred a hundred thousand to Luca.

"Don't come back here."

The words barely left my mouth before several pairs of eyes landed on us.

"That kid actually looks a bit like Boss did back in college."

"See? Ava's still hopelessly in love with Damon."

Damon tugged lazily at the corner of his mouth.

His friend swirled a glass and sauntered over, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

"Ava, Boss already booked you a room. Penthouse suite, killer view."

He raised his voice deliberately, as if making sure no one missed it.

"I bet she won't go."

"She's not the type. All for show. Give it a minute—she'll wire the money back and come crawling to Boss in tears."

After the loud jeering, every eye in the room was pinned on me.

Damon tapped the room key against the tabletop, one slow beat after another.

He looked up at me, a confident smile on his lips.

I walked over and plucked the card from between his fingers.

"Thanks."

The metal edge dragged across his fingertip. His smile froze for just a beat.

The penthouse VIP suite. Dim lights.

Damon sat in the adjoining room, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, exposing the old scar below his collarbone.

Junior year. A lab instrument malfunctioned. He threw himself over me to shield me and caught the blast—seven stitches.

I cried all night.

He just laughed and told me it didn't hurt.

I raised my eyes to that face that had once captivated me completely.

Tears welled up, but I clenched my jaw and refused to let them fall.

Damon lifted his hand instinctively, reaching to wipe them away.

In that instant, something like guilt flickered through his eyes.

"Sofia's pregnant," he said. "I owe her an explanation."

"Be good about this. Once the baby's born, everything will go back to the way it was."

Everything will go back to the way it was.

What an easy thing to say.

But I wasn't willing anymore.

I took a step back, dodging his touch.

Damon stared at me for two seconds.

Then the door slammed shut in front of me.

And I shut mine.

From the other side came small, muffled sounds before long—the dull groan of mattress springs.

Sofia's cry of "it hurts" was crushed into half a trembling note.

Damon's voice came through laced with heavy breathing.

"Relax."

One thrust. Then another.

Like he was making sure I heard every one.

In the group chat, his friends were placing bets on how long I'd last.

"I bet Ava's staring at her phone and crying right now. She'll come storming out any minute."

"She's way too jealous—even if it's just for pride, she'll hold out half an hour, tops."

It wasn't like I'd never made a scene before.

The first time I found another woman's perfume on him, I burned his clothes.

He said he'd brushed against someone by accident.

The second time, I had his car towed straight into the lake.

After that, he stopped explaining.

He just started throwing money at the problem.

Damon sent a voice message to the group.

"I bet she can last the whole night. If I lose, the house is yours—the one we got married in."

The chat blew up instantly.

Everyone gushing about how generous Boss was. An eight-figure property, given away just like that.

I stared at the screen, fingertips ice cold.

That house. I'd overseen every inch of the renovation myself.

From demolition to painting, from picking tiles to choosing light fixtures—I'd touched every single plank of wood.

And now he tossed it away like it was nothing.

As if our years of marriage weighed less than air.

I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door.

Another message from Damon popped up, his voice carrying the lazy satisfaction of a man who'd just finished.

"You don't want someone else getting the house, do you?"

"Do it for me. Just make it through tonight."

"After tonight, I'll transfer the house to your name. Double the alimony."

Clear terms. Clean math.

He kept his dignity; I got the house.

Sounded like a win-win.

But the most pathetic part was this—between us, transactions were all that was left to discuss.

The bathroom door opened.

Luca stepped out toweling his hair, water droplets tracing a path down his abs before disappearing beneath the edge of the towel.