Chapter 6: Dominic

I WANT A DIVORCE.

The words swirled around us like a cloud of poisonous fumes.

Theoretically, I understood what they meant, but I couldn't comprehend

them.

Divorce meant breaking up. Breaking up meant separating. And

separating was simply impossible. It was something that happened to other

people, not to us.

Her wedding ring burned a hole in my pocket.

"I can't believe I married someone who likes mint chocolate chip," I

said as Alessandra hoovered down a bowl of her favorite ice cream. "You

know you're basically eating toothpaste, right?"

"Delicious toothpaste." Her mischievous smile hit me right in the gut.

We'd been married exactly one week, two days, and twelve hours, and I still

couldn't believe she was mine. "You knew about my taste in dessert before

our wedding, soyou can't complain now. I'm afraid you're stuck with me

and my mint chocolate forever."

Forever.

The concept seemed laughable a year ago. Nothing lasted forever.

People, places, relationships…everything had an expiration date.

But for the first time in my life, I allowed myself to believe someone

when they said they would stay.

My hand found hers and laced our fingers together. "Promise?"

Her face softened. We were technically supposed to be watching the

latest action blockbuster, but theexplosions were mere background noise at

this point. "I promise."

A door slammed in the hallway, and the memory fizzled as quickly as it

arose.

The buzzing in my ears returned. "You don't mean that."

Alessandra simply stared at me, her eyes bright with unshed tears but

her face set with quiet determination.

Christ, why was my tie so damned tight? I couldn't breathe properly.

I reached up to loosen it, but my fingers found nothing except damp

cotton. No tie, only a vise around my neck and a fist strangling my lungs.

"You never toldme." I droppedmy arm, wondering where thehell we

went wrong. "You never said a thing about any of this until now."

Had I missed more dates than I should've these past few years? Yes.

Did Alessandra and I talk as much as we used to? No. But that was the

nature of building an empire, and I thought we understood each other. We'd

been together for so long; we didn't need to constantly reassure each other

of our relationship.

"I should've." Alessandra looked away. "That was my fault. I kept it all

to myself when I should've toldyou how I was feeling. It's not just about

one trip or dinner. It's not evenabout a dozen trips and dinners. It's about

what missing them represents." Her eyes met mine again, and my heart

twisted at the hurt I saw in them. Had I really been so blind I'd missed how

unhappy she'd been all this time? "You've made it clear, time and again,

that I'm not a priority."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it?" She gave me a sad smile. "Do you know what I asked myself

every night when you were staying late at the office again? I wondered, if

there was an emergency at work and at home at the same time, who you

would choose. Me or your investors?"

The buzzing intensified. "You know I would choose you."

"That's the thing. I don't." A tear slipped down her cheek. "Because

you haven't chosen me. Not in a very, very long time."

Silence fell between us, punctuated by my rapid breaths and the

deafening ticks of the clock in the corner. Any response I might've had was

crushed beneath the weight of her tears.

Poverty. Failure. Sabotage. I'd endured plenty over the years and

survived, but seeing Alessandra cry was the one thing that could bring me

to my knees. Every damn time.

"I've made so many excuses foryou, both to my friends and tomyself,

but I can't do it anymore." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "We've been

holding on to something that doesn't exist anymore, and we need to let go.

We'll both be happier."

Every syllable chipped away at the composure I'd spent a decade

constructing. An army of emotions stormed through me—anger,shame, and

a fierce desperation that I hadn't felt since I was a teenager fighting to get

out of my godforsaken hometown.

I wasn't supposed to feel any ofthose things anymore, dammit. I was a

goddamn CEO, not a helpless boy with no family and no money to his

name. But when faced with the prospect of losing Alessandra…

Panic seized my chest. "You honestly think we'll be happier if we

divorce? That I'll be happier without you? This is us." The word ripped

from my throat, raw and loaded with emotion. "Você e eu. Para sempre."

You and me. Forever.

Alessandra's quiet sob ripped at my heart. I reached for her, and when

she shrank back, the rip turned into a full-blown chasm.

"Don't make this any harder than it has to be." The words were barely

audible. "Please."

My hand dropped to my side as the fist squeezed tighter around my

lungs. I didn't know how we got here, but I damn well wasn't walking away

without a fight.

"I fucked up yesterday," I said. "And I've fucked up many more times

before that. But I'm still your husband, and you're still my wife."

She closed her eyes, her tears now a quiet, steady stream running down

her face. "Dom…"

"We'll work this out." The thought of living without her was

incomprehensible, like asking a heart to stop beating or the stars to give up

the night. "I promise."

We had to.

Maybe Ihaven't expressed it asmuch as I should have, but Alessandra

was an indeliblepart of me. She had been since the moment I laid eyes on

her eleven years ago, though I hadn't known it at the time.

Without her, there was no me.