Our Marriage Rotted in the Eighth Year

Chapter 2

My best friend Gemma's frantic calls woke me, and my whole body ached as I answered. Her anxious voice burst through the phone. "Aria! Have you seen the news? It has to be something the media made up—Dominic loves you, he couldn't possibly—"

With stiff fingers, I opened the headline she'd sent, and a chill ran through me.

"Crown Street Mogul Caught in Rooftop s*x Scandal on Wedding Night!"

The high-res photos showed Dominic inside a luxury car with a young woman in his arms, their clothes half-off, and there was nothing subtle about what they'd been doing. The scandal owned every trending list. Yesterday, our grand wedding had held the whole city's attention, and today the whole city was laughing at me.

I called Dominic, shaking, and demanded to know why he'd humiliate me like this, but his voice was only rough with a hangover and a long night. "Oh, that. We got a little carried away. I didn't want you to see it, but PR's having trouble burying the story. If you're embarrassed, tell the team to handle it yourself."

He said it like I was the one who'd humiliated us.

I drove to another private apartment he owned, and on the way I remembered the early days of Harrington Capital, when it was barely more than a shell company and two heirs from the most powerful families in the city had chased him at the same time. Everyone bet he'd pick one of them for the sake of his career, but instead Dominic bought the front page of every major paper for a week, each ad carrying a single line: I have a girlfriend, and I love her. Nothing but death will ever tear us apart.

That day, the whole world learned how much he loved me, which was exactly why his betrayal had become the city's most sensational piece of entertainment.

His assistant met me the moment I opened the apartment door, pity and embarrassment in his eyes. "Mrs. Harrington, you shouldn't have come."

I pushed past him and headed straight for the living room, and when the door swung open on tangled clothes strewn across the floor, Dominic was sprawled on the couch with Sienna in his arms. At the sound of me, he patted her bare back and gave me a nasty smile. "Put something on, baby. My wife's here, so try to be polite."

Sienna slowly slipped into a camisole dress and coyly asked Dominic to zip it, then turned, stuck her tongue out at me, and spoke in a syrupy voice. "I'm so sorry, Aria. I never thought Dominic would actually leave you on your wedding night to be with me, but we had too much fun last night and lost control." She blinked, wide-eyed. "Oh! I don't think we used protection last night. It's fine, though, I'll take a pill. Please don't be mad, Aria."

Nausea surged up my throat, and I clapped a hand over my mouth, doubled over, and retched violently onto the marble floor.

Dominic's expression changed as he shoved Sienna away and hurried over to steady me. "Aria! What's wrong? Are you sick? I'll take you to the hospital!"

I pushed him off with everything I had. "Don't touch me! You're filthy, and you make me sick!"

His face darkened, and he rounded on Sienna, who'd been watching the show with thinly veiled amusement. "Get out! Now!"

Sienna gave an aggrieved little huff, and yet even as he ordered her out, Dominic leaned in, kissed her softly, and murmured, "Be good and don't make a fuss. I'll have my assistant buy you the pill, and I'm still yours tonight, okay?"

Only then did she brighten, and she shot me a triumphant look before she left.

Dominic tossed a scrap of lace aside and put his concerned face back on. "Feeling better, Aria? I know this is hard to accept, and if you want a divorce, I won't blame you—you'll get generous compensation."

I wiped my mouth and stared at him through swollen eyes, because I'd gambled away all my dignity over eight years with him, and if I divorced him now, I'd walk away with nothing and become a punchline. I couldn't accept that.

"Dominic," I heard myself say, hollow, "I won't divorce you."

Like a gambler who'd lost everything, I clung to the last chip I had left: his claim that I was the woman he loved most.

In the days that followed, I cried and raged, and during one fight I even pressed a paring knife to my throat until blood welled against the blade, until Dominic finally caved, staring at the cut in terror as he pulled me into his arms and promised to end things with Sienna for good.

See? He still cared. If part of him still loved me, maybe we could find our way back.