THE WIFE HE TRIED TO BURY

I don’t know how I’m still standing. My legs feel like they don’t belong to me just thin sticks holding up a shell. Inside, I’m empty. I can’t even feel the expensive silk clinging to my skin or the diamond bracelet digging into my wrist. I just feel cold. So cold, like I’m standing naked in this golden ballroom while everyone watches me drown. I keep tasting the champagne on my tongue bitter bubbles that do nothing to wash down the knot stuck in my throat. I wish it would choke me. I wish I could collapse right here, just sink into the polished marble and vanish. But I can’t. I have to stand here and watch him. Luciano. My husband. My savior. My destroyer. He’s everything I hate and everything I once begged for, all wrapped up in a suit that costs more than the life he ruined. I see him laughing with men who pretend to respect him, women who want to sleep in the bed I call mine. I see the way his eyes glide right past me like I’m invisible. Like I’m no one. God, I hate him. But what I hate more is myself for wanting him to see me. For hoping, even now, that he’d look at me and remember he once promised to protect me. That he once pressed his lips to my forehead and swore he’d keep my father’s legacy safe if I just trusted him. I trusted him. Like a fool. Like a child. A woman beside me ,I don’t even know her name giggles behind her manicured hand. Her perfume makes my head spin. “Mrs. DeMarco,” she purrs, dripping fake sympathy I want to slap off her face. “Is it true your husband has an announcement tonight?” I force my lips to curve into something like a smile. It hurts. Everything hurts. “So he said.” I can hear his voice in my head. Wear something stunning tonight, Eva. I want the world to see what’s mine. I let him dress me up like a doll. Emerald silk, diamonds at my throat, red lipstick I smeared on for a man who’d stopped kissing me months ago. I did it all because I still wanted to believe I was his wife. I want to laugh at myself. I want to scream at myself. I I see her. Sabrina Laurent. A pretty snake in glittering heels. The same lipstick I found on his collar last winter. The same smirk I see now, curling at the edges of her mouth as she leans into my husband like she owns him. Maybe she does. I feel something snap inside me. Like a thin wire I’ve been clinging to with bloody fingers just gave up. I want to walk away, but my feet won’t move. My eyes are glued to him as he lifts his glass and turns to the room. His eyes flick to me for a heartbeat. That’s all he gives me a heartbeat. Cold, bored, sharp. Like he’s daring me to fall apart in front of his wolves. “Friends,” he says, and his voice is smooth and warm nothing like the ice behind his smile. “Tonight isn’t just about business. Tonight, I want to share something personal.” I feel the blood drain from my face. I can’t breathe. I want to scream don’t you dare. But my mouth is dry. My voice is gone. Luciano slips his arm around Sabrina’s slim waist like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like I’m not standing here watching my world catch fire. “I want you all to meet the woman who has given me strength, loyalty, and love when I needed it most. I’m pleased to announce…” he kisses her hair, right there in front of me, in front of everyone”…my fiancée.” Fiancée. The word slices through me like a blade. I feel the heat rush to my face, then all the warmth drains out of me at once. My hand goes slack. The champagne flute slips from my fingers. I hear the glass shatter on the marble floor but it sounds so far away, like someone else dropped it. I hear the gasps. The whispers. The polite horror dripping off silk tongues. I feel their eyes all over me the poor stupid wife who thought she was special. The poor stupid wife who didn’t know her expiry date. Luciano doesn’t even look at me again. Sabrina does. She looks right at me, eyes glittering like a snake flicking its tongue. She leans up on tiptoe and presses her lips to his jaw a final twist of the knife. Something inside me gives up. I don’t remember moving. I don’t remember pushing through the sea of perfume and diamonds. I don’t remember who I elbowed aside. I just remember the cold when I hit the hallway, my heels echoing on marble that feels like a grave. I want to tear this dress off. I want to rip every jewel from my body. I want to claw my own skin open so I don’t have to feel this. I want to scream until I choke on my own voice. “Mrs. DeMarco.” I flinch so hard I nearly stumble. There’s a man in the shadows tall, forgettable face, expensive suit. Another vulture in a tie. He steps closer, holding out an envelope. His expression is blank, polite like he’s handing me a receipt for a meal I didn’t order. “From Mr. DeMarco.” I just stare at him. My fingers don’t move. I don’t want to touch it like if I don’t take it, none of this is real. He pushes it into my hand anyway. Cold, smooth paper that weighs a thousand pounds. I tear it open. I force my eyes to read the black letters swimming in my vision. “Effective immediately, your marriage to Luciano DeMarco is dissolved. All rights to shared assets remain with the DeMarco estate. Vacate the property within twenty-four hours.” I read it again. And again. My eyes burn but no tears fall. They’re stuck somewhere deep where even I can’t reach them. So that’s it, I think. That’s all I was worth. A few sentences on fancy paper. The man is still standing there. He clears his throat like he wants to pretend he cares. “Ma’am… do you need an escort home?” Home. I almost laugh. There’s no home left. Just empty rooms that smell like him. Empty closets where my father’s legacy used to live. I feel something slide down my cheek hot, sharp. One tear. That’s all I get. I don’t say a word. I don’t look at him again. I clutch the envelope like a knife pressed to my chest and I run out of the hallway, out of the cage, out of the life I thought I built for myself. Outside, the cold night air hits me like a slap. I keep running. Because if I stop, I’ll break. And if I break, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to put myself back together again.