Chapter Two
1676 Words
The evening air felt colder than it should have.
By the time I reached the building that held my tiny rental room, the ache in my chest had turned strangely quiet, as though my heart had grown too tired to hurt anymore.
Hours ago, I had still been someone’s wife. Or at least, I had believed I was.
I tightened my grip around the strap of my handbag and climbed the stairs slowly, my body heavy with exhaustion. Every step felt harder than the last, and although I had cried until my eyes burned dry, the humiliation refused to leave me.
The image would not stop replaying in my head.
James was standing beside the beautiful, elegant, rich woman. The woman he had obviously been seeing here in Italy while convincing me every single time that he was always held down by work.
Next, my thoughts drifted to the shove, and I shut my eyes tightly for a second as I felt a fresh wave of embarrassment course through me.
I swallowed hard.
Even now, I could still feel the force of his hand against me as though it had never left. I remembered stumbling backward in front of strangers while he looked at me with irritation instead of regret, like I was some embarrassing problem he wanted gone.
I unlocked my room and stepped inside.
The place was small and barely furnished, but it was clean. A faded couch sat against the wall beside a cheap standing lamp, and the tiny kitchen space looked almost forgotten, as though no one had cooked there in weeks.
I dropped my bag onto the floor and sat heavily on the edge of the bed.
The silence wrapped around me, and all I did was stare blankly at the wall.
Maybe I should leave. Maybe I should book the first flight back to America and pretend none of this had ever happened.
But the thought tasted bitter.
What would I even return to?
A shaky breath escaped me as I covered my face with my palm. I didn’t know how long I sat there, still dressed, still frozen in place, but eventually darkness settled deeper outside the window.
Then came the knock.
Three slow taps.
I frowned.
Nobody knew where I lived. I had made no friends here and had barely met anyone, so who could be at the door?
Another knock came on the door, and my stomach tightened. Slowly, I stood and walked toward the door. For a second, I hesitated. Then I unlocked it.
The moment the door opened, my breath caught. It was James, right outside my door, kneeling.
My fingers tightened around the edge of the door as disbelief crashed through my numbness.
“Aria,” he said quickly, his voice strained. “Please. Please don’t shut the door.”
I stared at him.
He looked different from the polished man I had seen at the mall earlier. His expensive jacket sat wrinkled across his shoulders, and his face looked tired, almost desperate.
“What happened today…” He swallowed. “I know it looked terrible.”
I said nothing.
What was I supposed to say?
He ran a hand through his hair.
“Baby, please,” he continued softly. “I know I messed up, but there really is a tale behind it all.”
The familiar nickname twisted painfully inside me. I remained silent.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
For a long moment, I simply stood there, unable to understand why he was there.
Why now?
I still felt shattered, and his fingerprints still seemed burned into my humiliation.
But eventually, I stepped aside without speaking.
He got up and entered quietly.
The room suddenly felt too small.
Too crowded.
James looked around before turning back to me.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
My brows pulled together slightly.
“How?” My voice sounded strange, rough from disuse.
His shoulders relaxed slightly, as though relieved I had finally spoken.
“I asked a few questions,” he said. “It took time, but I found you.”
“Of course you did.”
I said nothing else because, honestly, I did not know what else to say. The man standing in front of me was my husband, and yet he felt like a stranger.
James moved closer.
“Aria,” he said quietly. “I need you to understand something.”
His expression shifted.
“I didn’t marry Vittoria because I love her.”
I looked at him without emotion.
“She’s rich,” he continued quickly. “Very rich. Her family has connections, money, power. I married her because I had to.”
The words sat heavily in the room.
“I only did it for money,” he said. “That’s all. I had to do it to find my feet here in Italy. She doesn't mean anything to me.”
I folded my arms silently, still not saying a word.
He stepped closer again.
“I have a plan.”
A bitter laugh almost escaped me.
A plan.
Of course, he had a plan.
“When I gain access to her finances,” he continued, lowering his voice, “I’ll drain everything I can. A few months, Aria. That’s all I need.”
I finally looked at him properly.
“And then?”
His eyes brightened instantly.
“Then I’ll divorce her,” he said. “And come back to you.”
The room went still. For a moment, I genuinely wondered if I had heard him wrong.
“You just need to stay hidden,” he said carefully. “Keep quiet for a few months. Don’t tell anyone anything.”
He reached for my hand.
“And when this is over, we’ll finally have money to live the life we've always wanted.”
I slowly looked down at his hand touching mine. Then at my wedding ring.
The ring that suddenly felt heavier than chains.
“You want me,” I said quietly, “to wait while you steal from your Italian mistress?”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“It’s not like that.”
“And then what?” I asked softly. “You come back to me like nothing happened?”
“Exactly,” he said quickly. “We’ll start over.”
Something cold settled inside me; not sadness but something more dangerously shattering than heartbreak.
Quietly, I slowly slipped the ring off my finger.
James frowned.
“Aria?”
I looked straight into his eyes. Then I threw it. The ring flew harder than I expected, and it struck his cheek.
He cursed sharply and stepped back as the ring hit him.
“What the hell?” he snapped.
“Get out.”
His expression darkened.
“Aria—”
“I said leave.”
His face twisted into something ugly. Into something cold and cruel. Suddenly, the desperate man kneeling outside my door disappeared, replaced by something else I couldn’t recognize.
“You know what?” he said bitterly. “You should be grateful anyone ever wanted you.”
I froze.
He laughed harshly.
“An orphan,” he continued. “A girl who worked in a brothel.”
The words landed hard.
“You think you’re too good for this?” he mocked. “You think you can stand without me? Without me, you’re nothing!”
Silence filled the room.
“You had nothing before me,” he added coldly. “And you’ll have nothing after me.”
Then he turned, opened the door and slammed it behind him, the sound echoing through the apartment.
I stood there for a long time—still, quiet and stunned.
Strangely enough, I didn’t cry. Something inside me had changed over the last few days since I had realized that I had constantly been lied to. Especially over the last three hours since he had me shoved at the mall.
James thought I was weak. He thought his humiliation would break me. That poverty would chase me back to America defeated.
But all I could think about was the look in Vittoria’s eyes at the mall.
Power, money, status—the things people respect. The things people feared.
The things James had chosen over me.
A slow breath left my lips as I walked toward the armchair in the living room and dropped into it.
No.
I wasn’t going back, especially not as someone broken or defeated.
If James wanted wealth badly enough to betray me, then maybe wealth was the only language this world understood.
I pulled out my phone.
The glow of the screen lit my face as I searched through job listings around Florence—hotels, cleaning jobs, restaurant work—any better-paying positions that could keep me on my feet.
Then one listing stopped me.
PRIVATE ADVERTISEMENT.
My eyes narrowed as I read through the advert. A wealthy anonymous donor was seeking a surrogate mother, and the compensation had been written to be very high.
I blinked.
Slowly, I opened the listing. The details were strange—private arrangement, strict confidentiality, and one last condition that stood out immediately.
The surrogate must legally marry the donor to secure lineage rights.
I stared at the screen.
The amount listed beneath it made my chest tighten. It was more money than I had ever imagined having. Enough to build something. Enough to stop surviving. Enough to stand in front of James one day and make him regret everything.
My fingers moved before doubt could stop me.
I filled out the application, submitted it, then slid my phone back into my pocket. Leaning into the chair, I let out a slow breath and stared at the ceiling.
Now, all I needed to do was wait.
Within an hour of waiting, my phone pinged with a text message. My heart began to beat loudly as I glanced at the screen, and I paused as my eyes fell on the words in the text.
“You've been accepted for an interview.”
- Writer
