The woman who had stolen my research. Who had clawed her way back into Volpe favor through seduction and lies. Who had pushed me down those stairs and watched me fall without a flicker of remorse in her eyes.
And he wanted me to forgive her.
"Get out!"
The words tore from my throat like a scream.
"I don't ever want to see you again, Nico!"
"Massima? I'm going to report her to the authorities—I don't need your blood money!"
I snatched up the check, tore it in half with my one good hand, and hurled the pieces at him. They fluttered to the ground like dead leaves.
He froze.
As if he'd never seen me lose my temper like this before.
And perhaps he hadn't. For three years, I had been the perfect blood-bound wife. Quiet. Devoted. Invisible. I had swallowed every slight, every absence, every night spent alone in our bed while he stared at photographs of another woman.
No more.
He lowered his head and wrote another line.
"I won't let you hurt Massima."
Those words drove into my heart like a blade.
One I couldn't pull out no matter how I tried.
He turned and left without looking back. The door clicked shut behind him with a sound like a coffin closing.
The room was silent except for my trembling.
I stared at the ceiling—water-stained, institutional, nothing like the gilded ceilings of the Volpe compound—and murmured to myself.
"Ten more days... Ten days, and we're done for good."
Ten days until the dissolution was finalized.
Ten days until I was free of the Volpe name.
If I survived that long.
Three days later.
"Signora Volpe, these flowers are from the Young Don."
The nurse's voice was carefully neutral, but I caught the pity in her eyes. Everyone in this Family-controlled clinic knew the truth. Everyone had heard the whispers.
He'd been sending flowers for three days straight.
Red roses, dozens of them, delivered with mechanical precision every morning.
I didn't look at them. Just gave a flat acknowledgment.
Leaning on my crutch—my leg still weak from the fall, my hand still useless—I gathered my few belongings and prepared to check out. A change of clothes. My phone, retrieved by a sympathetic nurse. The divorce papers, tucked into my bag like a loaded weapon.
The moment I pushed open the door, I froze.
The entire corridor was engulfed in flowers.