Cassiano lunged for the metal trash can.
With no thought for appearances, he shoved his hand through the discarded papers and retrieved the bracelets. He clenched them tightly, his shoulders trembling.
"Sylvia, don't do this."
He looked up, his eyes red.
"You can hit me. You can yell at me. But you can't throw away everything we had. Don't you remember that run-down apartment in Westbridge District?"
He was trying to hold me hostage with memories of the poorest, hardest years of our lives.
"I remember."
I looked at the wreck of a man in front of me.
"I remember drinking so much while trying to secure our first investment that my stomach started bleeding. I remember you kneeling beside my hospital bed and swearing you'd never let me suffer again. But Cassiano, I wasn't the one who d
