"You think I've dirtied this place? Forget dirtying it. I could blow this shithole to rubble and it still wouldn't be any of your business."
He ordered them to drag me out.
They hauled me through the door while men wired explosives to the walls of the old apartment. A few pounds of charges, rigged to the crumbling exterior.
One command. That was all it took.
The building that held the only good memory we'd ever shared collapsed into dust and ash.
Firelight filled the sky. My tears wouldn't stop.
Dennis stared at the wet streaks on my face. The anger drained from his expression, replaced by something cold and distant.
"Veronica. What do I have to say to make you understand?"
"I gave you the title of Mrs. Sanchez. I put you in Bayshore Villa. I let you carry handbags that cost over ten thousand dollars apiece. The clothes on your back right now are couture that ordinary people couldn't afford in a lifetime. Haven't I been good enough to you?"
"You're thirty years old. You're not young anymore. Do you honestly expect me to still be in love with a woman whose looks are already fading?"
"I'm giving you the dignity of being my wife. I'm giving you a life of luxury. All I need is for you to turn a blind eye and make room for Beryl and the child. Is that really so impossible?"
I met his gaze. Every word came out steady and clear.
"No."
"Dennis, you erased everything we had with your own hands."
"I want a divorce."
Irritation and anger bled into his eyes. He looked at me for a long moment, then spoke, his voice flat.
"Divorce? Not a chance. Even if I don't love you anymore, you're still the most important person in my life. I will never divorce you."