After the party, I crossed my building’s lobby while cold London rain streaked the floor-to-ceiling windows. Dante waited under the portico lights.
He leaned against a stone pillar, soaked through. His fine Italian suit clung to his shoulders, and water ran from his cuffs.
When he saw me, he left the pillar and blocked the path to my waiting car. His eyes were red-rimmed.
He pulled a thick sealed envelope and a small velvet box from inside his ruined suit. Rain had softened and warped the paper.
“I drove her out, Serena. Elena. The day you left. I never saw her again.” His voice caught. “This last year has been a waking nightmare. I searched for you. I put the pieces together.”
He shoved the envelope towards me. “It’s all in here. Every mistake. Every time I chose wrong. Every single
