Chapter 2

I stayed calm. Only my voice went cold.

"I grew up eating handmade pasta. You like steak and potatoes. Your tastes are set."

"For eight years, I ate potatoes with you almost every day, just to accommodate you."

"But you never once accommodated me."

"Adrian, love like this is too unbalanced."

His face hardened. He had no intention of giving an inch.

"You think love is a transaction?"

"In these eight years, have I ever stopped you from eating pasta? Have I ever forced you not to eat it?"

"And I never forced you to eat potatoes with me either."

"You like pasta, eat pasta. I like potatoes, I eat potatoes. Why does one person have to force the other?"

"What does forcing me to eat it prove?"

"If I didn't love you, would I have stayed with you for eight years? Would I be planning to marry you?"

I let out a cold laugh.

"You're right. You never forced me."

"I was the stupid one. It was my own one-sided choice to accommodate you for eight years."

He could tell my mood was off. His tone finally softened a few degrees.

"That's not what I meant."

"It's your birthday. I don't want to fight with you."

"Calm down for now. I'll make it up to you another day."

With that, he walked to the study without looking back.

I finished the plate of birthday pasta alone.

On my way to the bedroom, I passed the study and heard him on the phone with Victor.

"I had pasta with Chloe twice during the day. Two full plates. I honestly can't eat any more."

"Bella's a little unhappy. Have your wife help me smooth things over with her."

I stopped in the doorway.

Through the phone, Victor said, "This is nothing. Just sweet-talk her yourself. Didn't you say Bella's the easiest person in the world to win over?"

Adrian sounded exhausted.

"I don't feel like it. No energy, and no time."

"I promised Chloe I'd play games with her tonight."

No energy to comfort me.

But plenty of energy to play games with his assistant.

This was the result of eight years of loving him with everything I had.

Back in the bedroom, I sent a directive to the Moretti family's legal team.

Transfer my permanent office back home.

I'd spent sixteen years studying away from home, and eight years building my career on the East Coast.

Now, I wanted to go home.

Back to where I truly belonged.