Chapter 3

Something shifted in Dante’s eyes as he glanced at Stella, but he didn’t press further.

“I was wondering what that awful stench was in here,” she said, her voice syrupy sweet and cruel. “Now I know—it’s the smell of desperation.”

I gripped the hem of my dress tighter, trying to hold myself together.

I took a step forward and said calmly, “Why don’t you play that recording you’ve been hiding, Film Queen Anderson? Let everyone hear it.”

The air in the private room shifted. Laughter died down. A few confused murmurs stirred.

“What recording?” someone asked, looking between us.

Color rushed to Stella’s cheeks. She twirled a lock of hair and replied coyly, “Oh, just some pillow talk... Dante whispered to me while we were making love.”

Catcalls and whistles erupted from the men in the room.

“Damn, who knew the national sweetheart was this kinky?”

“Come on, play it! Let’s hear the CEO in action—maybe we’ll learn a thing or two.”

“Don’t worry, Dante. She’s deaf. It’s not like she can hear it anyway.”

Stella finally tapped play on her phone. The private room was suddenly filled with moans, gasps, and Dante’s voice murmuring sweet nothings like he’d never said to anyone else.

Each word sliced through me like a blade.

I thought I was over him.

But hearing it… on our bed… knowing this wasn’t just a betrayal, but a violation of us—it shattered something inside me.

The room turned toward me like spectators at a public execution—some eyes mocking, some pitying. I felt stripped bare.

Then she did it.

With a smirk, Stella stepped forward and tossed her red wine at me. The glass shattered at my feet, and the liquid soaked through my white blouse, clinging to my skin like shame.

She set the glass down with delicate grace, shot Dante a lingering glance, and strutted out.

Dante immediately pulled out his phone and typed out a message.

“Something urgent came up. I’ll be right back. Don’t drink anything.”

At the door, he turned around and signed to me: Happy Birthday.

My knees wobbled as I tried to stand.

But before I could move, two of Stella’s bodyguards shoved me back down.

One of them leaned in close, his breath reeking of alcohol, eyes gleaming with something vile.

“Bet she’s soft all over,” he whispered. “No wonder the boss is two-timing. Think he’s the only one who gets a taste?”

His hand slid down my back, fingers slipping beneath the strap of my bra.

“She looks like a slut to me. Might as well let the rest of us get a turn.”

Rage surged like fire in my veins.

Without thinking, I grabbed a wine bottle and slammed it across his head.

The room exploded in chaos.

I ran.

I sprinted like hell was chasing me—heart racing, breath burning in my chest. I stumbled into the next private room... and there they were.

Dante and Stella.

Kissing like they hadn’t just humiliated me minutes ago. Like I was already gone.

I gagged.

My body recoiled instinctively as I backed away and ran again—this time into the rain.

It poured like the sky itself was mourning.

Water soaked through my clothes, my shoes, my bones. But I kept walking. Numb. Hollow. Every drop mingled with my tears until I couldn’t tell which was which.

Three years ago…

I met Dante Crowhurst in the line of duty. He was being held hostage when I burst onto the scene as a young cop. A maniac opened fire, and I shielded him, taking the bullet myself.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a hospital bed, deaf… and with no memory of who I was.

He’d been there. Holding my hand like he never wanted to let go.

He told me I fell from a cliff trying to save him.

That I lost my hearing in the accident. That he’d take care of me from now on.

And he did—for a while.

But now… now I knew the truth.

A blinding light pierced the fog in my mind as a car’s horn blared too late.

I turned just in time to feel the impact.

My body was flung into the flowerbed.

Pain. Cold. Blood.

I vaguely remember the ER, someone yelling, the sting of antiseptic. My vision blurred.

A nurse found my phone, unlocked it with my fingerprint, and called the only contact listed under “Husband.”

She tried again and again.

Finally, he picked up.

Dante’s voice was cold, clipped. “Whatever it is, wait until I’m back. Don’t call me again.”

And then—her voice.

Soft. Whiny.

“Honey… I’m hurting…”

I passed out.

When I opened my eyes again, I was stitched, bandaged, and alone.

There was only one day left before Dante and Stella’s wedding.

And one day left before I disappeared from this nightmare… forever.