By the time I left the office, I felt hollowed out, as if every bit of strength had been drained from me.

When I passed the Spallone clubhouse, grief pressed down on me like a heavy weight.

After days of barely eating, my low blood sugar level sent the world spinning. My vision blurred to black, and I caught myself against the wall by the entrance, barely managing to stay upright.

Just then, a black Bentley I knew too well eased to a stop at the door. Behind the wheel was Tristan. In the passenger seat sat Winnie, her makeup flawless.

Tristan's gaze flicked past me, not stopping for even a beat, as if I were just some random stranger. He yanked the car door open and strode straight into the clubhouse.

I had no idea how much time had passed. Cold sweat was pouring down my face, and I was about to pass out when the clubhouse doors finally swung open again.

Tristan walked out with two bottles of whiskey dangling from his hand. The instant he saw me still standing there with my head down, his brow tightened.

"Come on. Isn't a ride what you were after?"

"I didn't want that," I whispered.

He brushed off my words, caught my wrist, and shoved me into the backseat of his car.

"Faking illness now? That's your new trick to bother me? Anna, if you want a ride, call the driver. Don't stand in my way. I don't have time for this."

He used to always bring me coffee. Out of pure habit, he passed me one of the bottles of whiskey in his hand. I never touched alcohol, so I left it alone. Seeing this, he set it down without a second glance.

A heavy silence settled in the car.

Winnie suddenly turned from her seat in front, flashing me a courteous smile. "You must be Anna Jovine, huh? Tristan talks about you all the time. I should thank you for looking after him these past few years."

Her voice carried a thin layer of arrogance, the way a hostess might thank a maid for her service.

Before I could even catch my breath from the sting of it, Winnie laid a hand on her stomach and said, "Tristan, my period just started. My cramps are killing me."

Tristan quickly pulled out some painkillers and a heat patch, pressing them into her hand. "Here. Take these, and put this on your stomach."

Winnie smiled. "You've always been the one who looked out for me. I still remember that time we were on business in Sirelia. My period started in the middle of a snowstorm. It was freezing outside, and you kept my stomach warm."

Tristan answered instantly, as if it were the most natural thing. "That's just what a gentleman does."

I curled into the far corner of the backseat, small and out of place. I kept still, listening as they traded stories that belonged only to them—from a snowy night in Sirelia to the sunrise over Mount Astrelle.

I wasn't part of any of it.

Streetlights streamed past the window, one after another, like splashes of whiskey. My eyes drifted to the two bottles Tristan had set on the seat.

Our first date had been in a whiskey bar. I remembered him ordering the fiercest malt they had, sliding the glass toward me with a single push, his gaze shadowed and intense.

"Drink it, and I'll marry you."

I wasn't a drinker. But that night, I threw the alcohol back in one reckless swallow, not knowing what possessed me. The whiskey seared my throat raw, and my heart went wild in my chest.

The rest of that night blurred into a drunken stupor.

What I never forgot was waking the next morning in Tristan's strong embrace, a ring shining on my finger. Tears of joy spilled down my face as I thought myself the happiest woman alive.

It wasn't until much later that I learned of Tristan's greatest regret—that he'd never handed that glass of whiskey to Winnie.

A bitter smile crossed my lips. Now, at last, maybe he could.

Memories surged up in relentless waves, and a bone-deep weariness dragged me under. I sank into a troubled, uneasy sleep.

When I opened my eyes again, the car was already sitting in the villa's garage. Winnie was gone. She must've slipped out without me noticing.

Tristan was turned toward me, his brow furrowed deep. His voice was low as he said, "Anna, did you really have to pull a stunt like that just to catch my attention? If you wanted a ride back, all you had to do was say so.

"Why put on that fainting act at the clubhouse entrance?"

His tone was sharp and laced with impatience. I couldn't quite tell what had him so wound up. Perhaps he was just angry that I'd cut into his stolen moments with Winnie.

"Tristan, you've got it all wrong. I never wanted you to bring me back."

He snorted, as though my denial was nothing but stubborn pride. "Oh, really? And were you planning to crawl home in that state?"

I met his gaze without flinching. "I can take a cab. Tristan, I'm not useless without you. I went along with everything before because I loved you, but that doesn't mean I can't survive if I leave you."

He stared at me like I'd just told the funniest joke he'd ever heard, the derision in his eyes only sharpening. "Leave me? Anna, by all means, try. Then we'll see who ends up regretting it—you or me."

I didn't bother to argue further. Once he saw the divorce agreement, he'd realize I was serious this time.

My knees gave out as I stepped out of the car. I could barely stay on my feet, let alone walk.

Only then did Tristan seem to grasp that I wasn't faking anything. Wordlessly, he scooped me up, carried me into the bedroom, and laid me down with care.

The dizziness and weakness I felt clung to me stubbornly. Eyes shut, I didn't even have the strength to lift a finger.

Tristan pressed a glass of glucose water to my lips, and in that imperious tone I'd long since grown used to, commanded, "Drink."

I drained the glass of glucose water without a word.

That was Tristan's modus operandi. He'd let me down, then throw me a scrap of affection as if it made up for everything. The endless whiplash between cold and warmth had left me lost in doubt for five long years.

Did he ever truly care about me? Chasing the answer to that question was pathetic, and I'd wasted five years doing it. It was time to wake up.

I couldn't be bothered to figure out what was going through his mind. I murmured, "Thanks."

Tristan stayed put at the foot of the bed, staring down at me. "Aren't you going to ask me anything?"

I shook my head calmly.

He seemed a little put out by my reaction, and, unusually for him, actually started to explain himself. "It's not what you think. Winnie's just here because our family business is in trouble, and we need her—"

I cut him short. "As she should."

Tristan's eyes searched my face, as if he might catch the smallest crack in my composure, but there was nothing for him to find.

"Anna, it's just work between us now."

I nodded. "I know."

He went quiet, leaned down, and wrapped me in his arms. He then tried to kiss me.

He thought a kiss would smooth everything over like it always had. But this time, I turned my face away.

Blindsided by my refusal, Tristan stopped short, his face hardening in an instant. "Anna, I'm running out of patience. Don't push me."

I refused to meet his eyes.

That night, we slept in separate rooms. He let me have the master bedroom and took the guest room instead.

…

By the time I woke the next morning, Tristan was already gone.

I'd already made up my mind to leave, and I wanted to make a clean break. Thus, I went straight to the administration office and handed in my resignation.

Ben Fulton, the man in charge, gaped at the letter. "Madre Anna, what are you doing? Don Spallone only reassigned you. He never told you to quit."

I froze. "Reassigned?"

Ben stumbled over his words. "A few days ago, you touched something in the family vault without his permission. He was furious and fired the old vault keeper.

"But with the family short on people and no one else to fill the spot, he temporarily made you the one guarding the vault."

A chill cut straight through me. Again, it was because of that damn roll of film.

Because of Winnie's film, I was being shoved off to guard the vault—the most thankless post in the entire organization.

I forced down the storm tearing through me and asked, "So who's taking my place as head of intelligence?"

Ben's voice dropped to a whisper. "Winnie."

My legs almost gave out, and I caught myself with a palm to the wall. Even if I was already set on leaving, hearing that still struck me like a blade to the gut.

Tristan had never once given me any special treatment in the Spallone family. I had clawed my way up to head of intelligence on my own. And yet, with one word, he handed the position over to Winnie.

One day, Tristan threw a lavish dinner to celebrate Winnie's official appointment.

Standing in the banquet hall, he introduced the radiant, trusted aide at his side, his praise and high hopes for her plain in every word. He told everyone to look after her from now on.

A murmur rippled through the room.

Was this truly the same Tristan who had always been so cold and uncompromising?

Meanwhile, I, his wife in name, sat forgotten in a corner, no more than a guest who didn't matter.

Tristan's gaze swept the crowd and brushed past me, light as a shadow.

Just then, Winnie's heel wobbled beneath her, and she lurched forward.

Tristan, who had been calm a moment ago, shifted in an instant. He hurried forward and caught her, his grip firm yet taut with tension.

My hand tightened around the stem of my glass. I couldn't stand to watch their closeness for another second. Turning away, I slipped out onto the terrace for air.

The cool night breeze made me feel a little better, but it also carried Tristan's conversation with his friend to my ears.

"So, another cold war with Anna?"

Tristan offered a distracted grunt.

His friend sighed. "You're so damn stubborn. When are you going to swallow your pride and actually try to make peace with Anna? Women like her don't come around every day."

"I know."

"Then, why keep hyping up Winnie right in front of her? All that's going to do is make things worse between you two. What if Anna finally gets fed up and leaves?"

"She won't." Tristan paused, then said with complete confidence, "I'll just soothe her if she gets jealous. She'd never walk away from me."

Tristan was still brimming with that same old confidence. He honestly believed I'd cave first and come crawling back like I always used to.

I shook my head.

Just then, Winnie's voice drifted up behind me. She'd slipped over at some point without me noticing, a triumphant smile playing on her lips.

"Fancy seeing you here, Anna. Out for some fresh air on your own? I feel bad. The moment I showed up, I ended up taking your place in the Spallone family."

I caught the challenge in her voice and replied coolly, "Winnie, are we even that close?"

Her smile only widened. "I barely know you, but you should know me, right? There's no way Tristan hasn't mentioned me."

I wasn't about to argue, so I turned to go.

When I didn't give her the flustered blow-up she wanted, she decided to put on a little act. She purposefully lurched forward and slammed into the balcony balustrade with a shriek.

"Anna! Why did you push me?"

Of course, Tristan came running at the sound.

The moment he saw Winnie's glistening eyes, he turned on me like a whip. "Anna! What the hell is wrong with you? You dared to lay a hand on her with everyone watching?"

I met his gaze without offering a word of defense, my voice cracking as I forced out, "Tristan, I'm asking you one last time. Do you believe her, or me?"

He didn't answer. He only looked at me with eyes cold and heavy with disappointment, then turned and gently helped Winnie up.

That was all I needed to hear.

I bit down on my lower lip until the sharp taste of blood spread across my tongue, and still I felt nothing.

A complicated look flickered in Tristan's eyes. He started to speak.

But Winnie, sagging against him, cut in, her voice small. "Tristan, my back really hurts. We should go to the hospital."

Tristan quickly picked her up. As he moved past me, he didn't spare me so much as a glance.

That was when the Spallone family soldati came over, courteous but firm. "Apologies, Ms. Jovine. This is Ms. Leigh's celebration. Anyone who isn't friendly toward her isn't welcome."

I drew a deep breath and blinked the tears back.

"I get it. Don't bother throwing me out. I'll leave on my own," I said, eyes red-rimmed.

When I went back to the villa for my suitcase, I spotted an elegant card on the table in the living room. It was an appointment card from a premier wedding studio, with Tristan's and my name printed on it.

I had no idea when he'd left it.

He'd finally remembered the wedding shoot he'd promised me, the one I'd pleaded for for five years. But it was too little, too late.

I tore the card to shreds, dropped it in the trash, and went straight to the airport.

On the plane, I took out my phone and sent Tristan one last text.

"The divorce agreement and my resignation letter are on your desk. Don't forget to look at them when you get back."

After that, I popped out my SIM card and snapped it in two.

Tristan and I would never see each other again.