Chapter 3
Selena’s POV
The living room was deathly silent.
Still kneeling on one knee, Dante urgently broke the stalemate. “Selena, I swear I never betrayed you! I’ve never touched her!”
I let out a cold laugh and shoved him away in disgust.
I slammed the divorce papers and equity transfer agreement onto the coffee table.
He stared at the documents in disbelief, his voice trembling. “What is this?”
I looked down at him, every word cutting like a blade.
“You never touched her? So you think that as long as you didn’t sleep with her, you’re free to bind your entire soul to her?”
“You bandage her hand with the handkerchief you carry against your body, then come back to my bedroom and pretend to love me. You may not think it’s filthy, Dante, but you disgust me!”
His face turned deathly pale. He reached for my hand in a panic. “Selena, let me explain...”
I jerked away, my gaze cold as ice. “Stop acting as if your pathetic excuse for physical fidelity makes you honorable!”
“I don’t believe for one second that any man could remain unmoved when faced with a drunken woman!”
His pupils contracted as he stared at me in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” I glared at him. “I never want to see you standing outside another woman’s window in the middle of the night like some pathetic guard dog, wagging your tail and begging for her attention!”
“If you can’t let her go, then I’ll step aside. Sign the papers and get the hell out!”
Panic and fury flashed through Dante’s eyes. He seized my wrist so tightly that he nearly crushed the bone.
“I swear, you are the only woman in my heart! All I feel for that lunatic is hatred!”
He yanked the gun from his waistband and smashed the divorce papers apart with the heavy metal grip.
Scraps of paper flew through the air as he growled, his eyes bloodshot, “You want a divorce? Never!”
“We’re going to Sicily immediately. We’ll leave everything in New York behind. We’re leaving right now!”
The panic on his face, the way he teetered on the edge of losing control, suddenly reminded me of the night he proposed.
My throat tightened.
“Okay,” I whispered.
Dante cleared our flight path that same night and forcibly handed over all gang operations.
Early the next morning, he personally made my favorite Italian breakfast in the kitchen.
When we left the house, he kept a firm grip on my wrist.
He escorted me through security and onto the private jet.
But my heart was as still as stagnant water, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen.
Halfway through the flight, the plane encountered a rare and violent thunderstorm.
The cabin shook violently, and the oxygen masks dropped without warning.
My entire body went rigid. I squeezed my eyes shut and clung desperately to the armrests.
Dante, accustomed to living on the edge of death, was remarkably calm.
He tucked the blanket around me and bent down to press a kiss to my forehead.
“Close your eyes and get some sleep. Once we’re through these storm clouds, we’ll be safe.”
I pretended to fall asleep in the darkness.
As the plane continued to lurch, I heard Dante take out his encrypted satellite phone.
He dialed a number and was sent to voicemail.
Then he began leaving a message in a low voice, speaking Italian.
“Valentina, if this plane goes down tonight and I die, the last person who crosses my mind will be you...”
“All that hatred was nothing more than my madness over being unable to control you.”
“Faced with death, I surrender.”
He had always believed I couldn’t understand Italian.
What he didn’t know was that I had secretly mastered the language years ago so I could become part of his family.
I turned my head and wept in silence, my tears disappearing into the blanket.
The plane narrowly escaped disaster and made an emergency landing at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris for inspection and repairs.
The moment we were out of danger, Dante concealed his earlier vulnerability and returned to his usual composure.
He draped his coat over my shoulders and soothed me gently. “Don’t be afraid. I’m going to contact flight operations and arrange for a backup jet to take us directly to Sicily.”
He kissed the top of my head.
“Wait here for me. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”
I nodded.
I watched him walk away, and the last trace of hope in my heart turned to ash.
When he had believed he was about to die, the person he truly wanted to say goodbye to hadn’t been me.
I stood, leaving behind everything he had ever bought me.
Then I turned and walked quickly toward the terminal in the opposite direction.
I changed my reservation to a one-way ticket to Monaco.
Our marriage would be buried today.
I would never look back.
