A Battle of Wills

The sun streamed through the large windows of my office, casting long shadows over my desk. I stared at the piles of paperwork in front of me, but my mind was elsewhere—lost in the chaos that Dante had reintroduced into my life.

The necklace he'd sent sat in a drawer I had yet to open again, buried under old receipts and forgotten pens. Every time I thought about it, my chest tightened, a storm of emotions swirling beneath my otherwise calm exterior.

"Elizabeth, there's a Mr. Blackstone here to see you," the voice of my assistant, Claire, broke through my thoughts over the intercom.

I stiffened. Dante.

"Tell him I'm busy," I said, my tone firm.

There was a pause. "He insisted he wouldn't leave until he spoke to you."

Of course, he did.

With a sigh, I straightened my blazer and prepared myself for battle. "Send him in."

The door swung open moments later, and Dante entered like he owned the place. He looked as confident as ever, his dark suit perfectly tailored, his presence filling the room in a way that was both infuriating and intoxicating.

"Elizabeth," he said, his voice low and familiar.

"Dante," I replied coolly, leaning back in my chair. "To what do I owe this… intrusion?"

He smirked, unbothered by my sharp tone. "Intrusion? Is that what we're calling a visit now?"

I raised an eyebrow. "When it's uninvited, yes."

He chuckled softly, taking a seat across from me without waiting for an invitation. "I wanted to see you."

"Well, you've seen me," I said. "Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do."

"I do mind," he said, leaning forward. "Because I'm not leaving until we talk."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Dante, I've made it clear—"

"That I hurt you. That you don't trust me. That you don't want me back in your life," he interrupted, his tone surprisingly gentle. "I've heard it all, Elizabeth. But what you haven't told me is why you think running from me will solve anything."

His words struck a nerve, but I refused to let it show. "I'm not running from you, Dante. I'm moving on. There's a difference."

"Is there?" he asked, his gaze piercing. "Because it seems to me that every time I try to reach out, you push me away before I can even explain myself."

I laughed bitterly. "Explain yourself? What's there to explain, Dante? You chose your 'white moonlight' over me at every turn. You left me when I needed you most. What could you possibly say that would make any of that okay?"

For the first time, his confident façade faltered. He looked away, his jaw tightening. "You're right," he said after a long pause. "There's nothing I can say that will erase what I did. But I can promise you this—I'm not that man anymore."

I wanted to believe him. A small, foolish part of me even wanted to forgive him. But I couldn't let myself go down that road again.

"People don't change, Dante," I said quietly.

"They do when they lose the one thing that matters most to them," he replied, his voice filled with an emotion I didn't want to name.

I shook my head, standing up to signal the end of the conversation. "This conversation is over. Please leave."

He stood as well, his expression unreadable. "This isn't over, Elizabeth. Not by a long shot."

I didn't respond as he walked out, the door clicking shut behind him. But as I sat back down, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was right.

---

That evening, I met Lily for drinks at our favorite bar. I needed a distraction, and she was always good for one.

"Let me guess," she said as I slid into the booth. "Dante paid you another visit?"

I groaned. "Does everyone know about my life now?"

"Pretty much," she said with a grin. "You've become the talk of the town. The scorned ex-wife who's now the object of her billionaire ex's obsession. It's like something out of a soap opera."

"Glad to know my misery is so entertaining," I muttered, sipping my cocktail.

"Hey, I'm just saying," she said, raising her glass. "If I were you, I'd milk it for all it's worth."

"I don't want anything from him," I said firmly.

"Not even closure?" she asked, her tone softening.

I hesitated. "Closure doesn't come from him, Lily. It comes from me."

She nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Fair enough. But if you ever change your mind, just remember—you hold all the cards now."

Her words stayed with me long after I left the bar.

---

The next day, I woke to another surprise. A package sat on my doorstep, wrapped in elegant paper.

Inside was a leather-bound journal, its cover embossed with my initials. There was a note tucked inside:

Elizabeth,

This journal is for your thoughts, your dreams, and your pain. I know I wasn't there when you needed me most, but I hope you'll let me be there now. Even if it's just through this.

-Dante

I stared at the journal, my emotions warring within me. Part of me wanted to throw it away, to reject his attempts to worm his way back into my life. But another part of me—a part I wasn't ready to face—felt a flicker of something I hadn't felt in a long time.

Hope.

---

Later that evening, as I sat on my balcony with a glass of wine, I found myself opening the journal. My pen hovered over the blank page, unsure of where to start.

Finally, I wrote:

Dear Dante,

You say you've changed, but how can I believe you? How can I trust that you won't hurt me again? You weren't there when I needed you most, and I'm not sure I'll ever be able to forgive you for that.

But a small, foolish part of me wants to try.

I stared at the words for a long time before tearing the page out and crumpling it into a ball.

I wasn't ready to forgive him. Not yet.

But for the first time in years, I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to let him go, either.