phin

calculated performance-a weaponized fragility I knew all

into a fist. He slammed on the brakes, the tires screeching against

" he warned, his voice a low, gu

r of hope lodged itself in my throat.

Soft, broken sobs designed to m

frustrated sigh. "F

ht, and for a fleeting moment, his eyes held a flicker of regret before it wa

ng me. He was just forcing me to watch him choose her. I

waiting on the curb. The moment Dante stepped out of the car, sh

ered, the words pitched just loud enough to

sh her away. "

ng her face in his chest. "I

ms came up to wrap around her. "I know," he said, his vo

a cold, heavy weight settling in the pit of my

It was Dante. His face was a cold, impe

tone matter-of-fact. "You'r

isper. "Are you asking m

door for Isabella, then walked around to the pass

ri

s the street, I slid over to the driver's seat. The leather w

lla draped herself

e warned, his

you have to help me look at new houses tomor

ew mirror. It was a glance of apology, of

in his voice was a physical blow. It wa

greet the car. They beamed at Dante, pulling him into warm hugs as their eyes pa

ere so worried,"

father's arm. "Daddy, you lov

s, something I had never seen in the seven years we had been married. He f

n the car, the en

y phone buzzed.

e witho