When I came around, I was in a hospital bed. A dull ache in my abdomen, exactly like that night.

My first day in federal holding, I'd gotten into it with a guard. I won the fight. The price was blood soaking through my clothes, down my legs. The doctor who examined me afterward didn't waste words. "You miscarried." That was the first moment I knew I'd been pregnant.

The baby, like everything between me and Victor, was there and gone. The three years that followed, I survived only because the Moretti name still carried weight inside. Victor never came once. He sent letters through intermediaries, explaining that any mention of me sent Sophia into a spiral, so he had to write in secret.

I touched the flat of my stomach.

“Baby, you're better off. Your father doesn't love your mother.”

Victor's frantic voice cut through.

"Delora! Delora!"

I opened my eyes slowly. He was cradling my face in both hands. "Baby, you're finally awake. You scared the hell out of me. If anything had happened to you, I would've held this entire hospital responsible."

Would you? The thought surfaced on its own. If I told him about the baby, would he actually take responsibility?

But he kissed me before I could finish the thought, pressing his lips to mine. "Delora, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you. From here on out, whatever it is, I'm on your side. I choose you."

A knock at the door interrupted him.

"Don Caruso, the invoice needs your signature."

After he stepped out, a woman drifted in. The patient tag on her wrist read: Room 311, Sophia Romano.

My first time seeing her in person.

She was pale, very thin, with dry and dull hair, the kind of face men read as tragic and beautiful. Her eyes were too big for her face, and I imagined she looked helpless to anyone who wanted to see it. She gripped an IV pole with one hand, her eyes red.

"You must be Delora," she said quietly. "I should thank you. But I won't. You used your father's power to steal Victor from me. Everything you've ever done for me, you owe me."

I felt my stomach turn. She really was Victor's type, right down to the performative fragility.

"If you weren't in the picture," Sophia continued, "Victor and I would've been fine."

I looked at her. "Really? I was gone for three years. Did that work out for you?"

Her face twisted with fury. "Don't think being a Moretti makes you untouchable. I'm a patient. Everyone makes allowances for me."

"People make allowances for real patients," I said. "Not for people who perform."

She snapped. She lunged forward and ripped the IV line from my hand. The needle tore free, blood sprayed from the back of my hand, and the pain shot straight to my forehead.

The door swung open. Victor, carrying a piece of chestnut cake. My favorite.

He took in the scene and was next to me in an instant, pressing his hand over mine to stop the bleeding. "Delora! What happened?"

His eyes were red as he turned on Sophia. "What did you do?! What is wrong with you!"

Sophia's enormous eyes filled with tears instantly. "Victor... I just... I only wanted to feel her hand, to see if it was cold. I'm sorry... I'm so clumsy..."

She was still talking when the sobs started.

I thought, for one second, that Victor had stood firmly by me this time. But one look at his face told me the moment Sophia cried, the restraint he'd been holding crumbled. All I could do was laugh.

Sophia's crying was the most calculated thing I'd ever heard. Even God seemed to have had enough.

A crash, and the door flew open as a man pushed inside. A black pistol pressed against Sophia's forehead. His other gun aimed at my heart.

Victor shot to his feet but held still. His guards were crowded outside the hall, just as frozen, because the man with the guns was Carlos Reyes, DEA agent, husband of the informant Sophia had killed. He was there for revenge, and no one was faster than his trigger finger.

Carlos didn't fire. He looked at Victor. "Tell me which one of them is the killer. I was told the woman who took my wife's life is in this room. I don't kill the innocent. So talk."

My stomach dropped. Sophia had blamed me for the assault, blamed me for the depression, and I'd taken the fall for the crash.

I fixed my eyes on Victor. "I'm not asking you to defend me. Just don't lie."

Sophia was already shaking, barely able to get words out. "Victor... I love you... whatever I've ever done wrong, it was for you... if you want me to die in your wife’s place, I'll do it..."

Carlos's eyes cut toward me. "So the killer is you. Correct?"

I was shaking with anger. "I am not the killer. Victor. Tell the truth."

Victor said nothing.

Carlos's patience ran out. "Say it now, or I shoot both of them."

"Don't, wait, put the gun down—"

"Shut up. Say it."

"It's Delora! It was her!"

Victor's hand was pointing at me.

"Ha... haha..."

The room went silent. My laughter was the only sound.

From the day I walked into that federal building, I had not shed one tear. Now the dam broke completely. I was drowning in it, the sheer weight of how wrong I'd been.

Victor. I, Delora Moretti, have made exactly one mistake in my life worth regretting. Loving you.

But Carlos didn't fire. He paused, something shifting in his face. Victor moved fast, grabbed Carlos's arm, and the guards poured in and stripped him of both guns.

As he was dragged out, Carlos looked back at me. His eyes said it plainly: “I know who the real killer is. God, how pitiful you are.”

Once the room was quiet again, Victor rubbed his temple and explained himself.

"Delora, I wasn't throwing you to him. It's just, if something happened to you, the Moretti and Caruso families both have grounds to take revenge. Legitimate grounds. If Sophia had been shot, I wouldn't even have a right to claim her body. She's already so damaged—"

Sophia stepped forward and looped her arm through Victor's. "You don't need to apologize," she said sweetly. "If I'd been born into a family like your wife's, I'd surely be more generous and selfless."

Everything about it turned my stomach. I leaned forward and threw up.

Victor pulled away from Sophia and rubbed my back, wiping my mouth gently. Sophia went still, jaw clenched, eyes burning with something ugly.

"I know you're shaken from what just happened," Victor murmured. "I'll get the doctor to add something mild to your drip. You can be as angry at me as you want. I'll stay right here. And if Carlos had killed you, I would've made him pay for it, and then followed you."

What a beautiful thing to say. His hands were so gentle that for a moment, if this had been before, I might have believed him again. But sincerity has a shelf life. It can't survive waiting forever.

I parted my lips. Said two words.

"Get out."

Victor didn't get angry. "Okay. If you don't want to look at me, I'll go. I'll get the doctor. Call me when you need me."

Sophia followed him to the door. On her way out, she turned and looked at me, and what was in her eyes was pure venom.

With both of them gone, I packed a few clothes, went downstairs to check out, and on my way back up I passed Room 311. The door was cracked open. I stopped.

Through the gap: Sophia's arms wrapped around Victor. "Why? We love each other. Why can't we be together?"

"Sixteen years old until now. You're the only man I've ever been with, Victor. If you'd leave Delora, we could still have this. Your family's position is solid now. You don't need her anymore."

Victor's brow was furrowed, but he didn't push her away.

"Sophia. I can't leave her. Delora has given up too much for us. I owe her."

"Her father can look after her. She doesn't need you!" Sophia's voice cracked. "You're lying. You've fallen for her, haven't you?"

A long silence from Victor. Then, quietly: "...It's just obligation. She's my wife."

Something in Sophia's face eased. "I knew it. You only love me." A breath. "If you can't give me marriage... can you at least give me a child?"

Victor's expression flickered with confusion. He started to say no, but Sophia kissed him before he could.

She pushed up onto her toes and pressed her mouth to his. At first he didn't respond. But as the kiss deepened, his breathing changed, his chest rising and falling faster, and then he pressed her down onto the bed. They clung to each other, utterly inseparable.

I wrapped my arms around myself. The trembling that had been running through me all day suddenly went still, like a long storm finally breaking. What I felt, standing there, was relief.

I'd been going to give Victor a graceful ending. I saw now that wasn't necessary. Our marriage had been a bad piece of theater from the start, and I didn't need to wait for the curtain.

I typed out a message on my phone: the truth behind Sophia’s assault, and the divorce papers. I sent them to Victor's number. When I heard his notification go off inside the room, I turned and walked away.

Victor. You didn't get a goodbye from me, because you didn't deserve one.