The third Valentine's Day, I'd finally scraped together some money from delivery runs and bought discounted steaks for a candlelit dinner at home. He spent the night learning to cook Clementine's favorite foie gras from a Michelin chef. He never came home.
...
Dominic finally had time for me now.
But I no longer wanted it.
A cool breeze stirred my hair as Dominic led me through a narrow alley.
From deep within came a girl's piercing scream.
Dominic's spine went rigid. We both recognized that voice.
Clementine.
He dropped my hand instinctively and sprinted into the darkness.
I patted my pockets, cursing myself for forgetting my keys. I had no choice but to follow.
Clementine cowered in a corner, tears glistening in her eyes. Dominic's expression turned savage as he threw a punch that sent a man stumbling backward.
He was like a man possessed—each blow harder than the last, his voice trembling with barely contained rage.
"Who gave you the nerve to touch her?"
I didn't miss the flash of triumph in Clementine's eyes.
She preened like a proud peacock, showing off the massive diamond on her ring finger and the latest Hermès bag draped over her arm.
None of that mattered to me.