Dante POV
Dante couldn’t do it anymore.
He couldn’t keep pretending he was happy. Couldn’t keep pretending the marriage worked. Couldn’t keep pretending he wasn’t madly in love with Gianna Moretti.
He hadn’t told Gia—not yet—but every look, every touch, every quiet breath between them whispered what he already knew: she was it.
But before he could offer her anything real, he had to stop living this lie. It wasn’t fair to Isabella. And it wasn’t fair to him.
He picked up a suitcase and began packing. Clothes. Phone charger. Watch. A tie he didn’t even wear anymore. When he zipped it shut, he heard footsteps behind him.
He didn’t have to turn to know who it was.
“What are you doing?” Isabella’s voice was light—curious, not wounded.
Dante turned, suitcase in hand. “I’m moving out of o
