When I walked into the second floor of the Fumagalli boutique, Dante was asleep on a velvet chaise beside Viviana.

His suit jacket was folded under his head as a pillow. One hand rested near the hem of her dress, as if he wanted to protect her even in his sleep.

Shopping bags from overseas were piled around them like trophies.

Viviana leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Dante’s temple. Then she looked up and saw me standing in the doorway.

Any other woman would have flinched in that moment and shown guilt or shame. Viviana did not. Her smile only grew brighter.

She stood and walked over, then led me down to the first floor.

Viviana tilted her head slightly and studied me with the kind of look you gave a dress that did not fit quite right.

“Tessa, you look terrible. Have you been crying? That mascara is not doing you any favors today.”

I said nothing, and she did not seem to care.

“Look, I know this is hard for you. How long did you chase him? Seven years? Eight? That is a long time to spend chasing someone you can never have.

“He has made it clear now. He wants me, Tessa. Wake up. Stop clinging to him.

“I am being merciful. Most women in my position would have destroyed you by now. I am giving you a chance. Consider it a parting gift.”

I stared at her for three full seconds.

Everyone adored Viviana Lombardi. She was beautiful, intelligent, and charitable. She was the kind of woman fashion magazines called the epitome of grace, the kind men described as unforgettable.

All it took was one sentence at the banquet, “the key card was sent to the wrong person,” and the entire room rushed to believe her.

Poor Viviana, so misunderstood and so wronged.

I let out a soft laugh. “You are not merciful. You are afraid.”

Her smile faltered. “What did you say?”

I took a step forward, and my gaze turned sharp as a blade. “You think I do not remember? That key card seven years ago was not an accident where you gave it to the wrong person.

“You gave it to your cousin Enzo on purpose, did you not?”

“You are lying,” she said quietly, although her eyes darted away.

“Am I?” I tilted my head.

“On plenty of late nights, Enzo dropped you off three blocks away from your apartment. You walked the rest of the way so no one would see his car.”

“That is different,” she protested. “He is my cousin. We are family.”

“Is that right? Because I saw you check into a hotel with him one weekend. You were wearing his jacket, and his hand was on your waist. You could not admit it because he was already engaged to someone else. It would have been a scandal for the Lombardi family.

“As for Dante…”

I paused and watched her jaw tighten.

“Back then, he had nothing. No title, no territory. Only a sharp mind and a cot in his uncle’s warehouse.

“At a party, your friend asked if you liked him. You laughed and said…” I lowered my voice and matched her cutting tone. “‘Dante? That broke nobody? He can shoot, but he cannot afford diamonds. I am not stupid enough to marry a loser with no future.’”

Her voice turned sharp. “Mind your own business.”

“No,” I said. “You are the one who needs to mind hers.”

I knew why she was putting on this performance and why she had to rekindle things with Dante. Enzo’s wife had found out about their affair. The poor woman had nearly lost her mind.

Now Enzo kept his wife locked away to contain the fallout. The moment that woman got out, Viviana would be finished.

She needed a new protector before that happened.

“Then go tell him,” Viviana snapped, her composure cracking at last.

“Go ahead and tell him. Tell everyone. You think they will believe you? The woman who followed him around like a stray dog? Or me, the beloved Principessa?”

I took a deep breath and shook my head.

“I am not going to tell him,” I said.

She blinked. “What?”

“Why would I tell him?”

I clenched my fist. The ring was still there, cold against my knuckles.

“I came here to tell you something.

“Dante is yours. Take him. I am giving him to you.”

She would get what was coming to her eventually.

I ignored her confusion and let my gaze fall on the ring on my left hand. It was a simple platinum band with a large diamond set in the center, and our initials were engraved on the side.

Dante had bought it for me during the first year he built his empire.

Back then, he worked eighteen‑hour days, used borrowed money to bribe dock inspectors, and slept three hours a night on the office couch.

He nearly bankrupted himself to buy it.

After he paid, he had sixty dollars left in his wallet. He laughed when he told me that number, then kissed me in our tiny kitchen.

“Sixty dollars is enough for pasta, cheap wine, and a future that is ours.”

He said, “One day, I will give you everything. Tonight, I am giving you this ring and myself.”

I pulled him close and kissed him. “I believe you. As long as you love me, as long as I am by your side, we can do anything.”

I meant every word back then. Now, standing in that boutique with the cold ring in my hand, all I felt was how foolish I had been.

I slowly pulled the ring off my finger. The skin beneath it was pale from years of being covered.

I held it out to Viviana.

“Take it,” I said. “It is yours.”

Her eyes locked onto the diamond at once. Desire flashed across her face before she hid it.

She looked up, suspicious. “You expect me to believe you would give this to me? Out of the kindness of your heart?”

“Of course not.”

I opened my purse and pulled out a thick manila envelope. Inside was a divorce agreement I had already signed in black ink.

I placed it in her empty hand.

“Give this to Dante. Have him sign it. Then we are done.”

Viviana stared at the envelope like it might bite her.

“Viviana? Where are you?”

Dante’s voice echoed from upstairs. He was awake.

Viviana snatched the envelope and shoved me out the door.

“Viviana, who were you talking to?”

Dante came down the spiral staircase, his hair slightly disheveled from sleep, and exhaustion still lingered on his face.

Viviana’s expression turned innocent at once.

“No one,” she said softly. “Only someone who got scared off by the prices.”

Dante frowned and swept his gaze over the empty sidewalk outside. “I thought I heard—”

For a split second when he woke up, he thought he had heard my voice.

Viviana tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You must be imagining things.” Her tone was tight with nerves. “I found what I wanted. Let us go.”

He almost nodded. Then he saw the ring in Viviana’s hand.

“Where did you get that ring?” His voice was low and dangerous.

Before she could answer, he snatched it from her.

He recognized the weight at once. The cut. The setting. And that scratch.

Years ago, after a grueling week of negotiations, he had walked straight into traffic without looking. I had risked my life to push him out of the way.

I broke my wrist. The ring scraped against the pavement and left a permanent scar.

For an entire month, he kissed my cast every night and kissed that ring.

There was no other ring like it in the world. It was mine.

His breathing quickened.

“Where did you get this?” he asked again.

Viviana panicked and lied. “I found it. Maybe some socialite dropped it…”

“Impossible.” His voice sharpened. “Was Tessa just here?”

He remembered the words he had barely heard earlier, something about not wanting it anymore and divorce papers.

A wave of panic surged up his spine.