“You really thought you could leave me?”
My stomach lurched. I forced myself to stand my ground. “Give those back, Marco.”
His gaze darkened with something unreadable. “Oh, I will.”
He stood, moving toward me with a slow, predatory grace. “But first,” he murmured, his voice like silk-wrapped steel, “I have a little surprise for you.”
A sick feeling settled deep in my gut.
I didn’t sleep that night.
And the next morning, my world crumbled after I reached my office.
My name was everywhere.
“Billionaire Marco Rivera Files for Divorce—Publicly Rejects Wife!”
The air felt like it had been knocked from my lungs. My hands shook as I scrolled through the headlines.
“Faithful Husband Betrayed! Olivia Rivera Caught Having an Affair After Daughter’s Death!”
“Shocking Scandal: Marco Rivera’s Grief-Stricken Wife Found in Secret Meetings with Another Man!”
And then I saw them. The pictures. Of me and Damian's back at the café. Twisted. Manipulated. A weapon aimed at my heart.
My body went cold. Marco did this. He wasn’t just leaving me. He was destroying me.
I called Marco. Once. Twice. No answer.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palm. Coward.