Chapter 1

My husband's best friend shaved off the hair I'd spent ten years growing, right in front of everyone.

By the time I realized what she'd done, Livia had draped my hair over her head and was laughing into a livestream.

"Dario, look. Doesn't it look better on me?"

My husband actually laughed.

Comments raced across the screen.

Livia played with my hair and shrugged. "Maybe the stylist shouldn't have said her hair was better than mine. She even said Lena would be perfect for a hair-care campaign."

"Now there's nothing left to compare."

I grabbed the clippers from the counter.

"Then it's your turn."

Livia's smile vanished. She immediately ducked into Dario's arms, and my husband stepped in front of her.

"Enough, Lena. She acted without thinking. If you can't let this go, we'll get divorced."

The 101st time.

Once again, he was threatening me with divorce for Livia.

But this time, I smiled.

"Fine."

Dario froze. "What?"

"Divorce."

Just then, my phone lit up.

The message was from Emilio De Santis, a man I hadn't spoken to in eight years.

"Lena, I saw the livestream."

"If you're really leaving him, give me a chance."

"I've waited eight years for you."

I stared at the last line, then finally replied.

"I'm leaving him."

…

That afternoon, I was at a salon in Newark with Livia when the stylist casually complimented my hair and said it would be perfect for a hair-care campaign. She then told Livia that hers was badly damaged and would need time to recover.

That one comparison was enough to set her off.

The moment the stylist stepped away, Livia grabbed the clippers and started a livestream. Before I could stop her, ten years of hair was falling to the floor beneath the buzz of the blades.

By the time I broke free, I barely recognized myself in the mirror.

Livia only laughed, gathered up my hair, and draped it over her head for the camera. When Dario arrived, he didn't get angry with her. She made a joke, and he actually laughed.

That was the last straw.

I grabbed the clippers to return the favor, and Livia immediately hid in his arms while insisting I could shave her if it would make me feel better.

Of course, Dario wouldn't let me touch her.

"She was humiliated in front of everyone and acted without thinking. Do you really have to make this uglier?"

I looked at what was left of my hair in the mirror.

"Funny. You didn't ask her that when she was shaving mine."

His expression darkened, and once again he reminded me that Livia's father had asked him to take care of her before he died.

Dario never forgot that promise.

He had no trouble forgetting the ones he'd made to me.

I was done listening. When I reached for the clippers he'd taken from me, he refused to give them back, and during the struggle, he shoved me away.

The blade sliced across the top of my foot as it fell.

Blood quickly soaked through my shoe.

Dario finally looked alarmed and started toward me, but Livia suddenly slid down the wall, clutching her ankle.

"I think I twisted it."

His gaze moved from my bleeding foot to her ankle.

Then he chose her.

Dario lifted Livia into his arms. "I'll take her to the ER first, then come back for you."

I looked down at the blood pooling near my shoe.

"What about me?"

"Wait for me."

He hurried toward the door. As he passed, he shifted Livia protectively in his arms and knocked me off balance.

The back of my head slammed against a step.

Pain blurred my vision, and when I touched my head, my fingers came away covered in blood.

"Dario, help me..."

He never looked back.

Only when the door closed behind him did I finally understand that somewhere along the way, I'd stopped being the woman he chose first.

My consciousness was fading when my phone lit up.

Emilio De Santis.

The man I hadn't spoken to in eight years had sent only a few lines.

"Lena, I saw the livestream. If you're really leaving him, give me a chance."

"I've waited eight years for you."

I stared at the screen, then replied with blood on my fingers.

"I'm leaving him."

Then everything went black.