Chapter 2

My face is a calm mask as I watch Marcello’s lips tremble.

“Fine. I’m leaving.”

No screaming fit. No tears of betrayal.

I turn and walk away. Behind me, a wine glass shatters against the marble floor.

“Stop!” Marcello’s voice is tight with a rage he can’t contain. “You think the Valence family is some place you can just walk in and out of?”

I don’t break my stride.

My indifference seems to push him over the edge. His roar echoes through the vast hall. “Lilian, if you dare walk out that door, I’ll have Camilla in our bed tonight! In the Don’s wife’s room. I see you don’t need it anymore!”

I falter for a split second.

I decorated that room myself when we first got married. The oil painting on the wall, the color of the curtains, even the warm lamp on the nightstand—I chose every single piece.

I remember our first night as husband and wife. He held me, his body tangled with mine, kissing every inch of my skin. Only then could I physically feel that he cared.

Afterward, I asked him if he liked what I’d done with the room.

He’d scoffed. “Your taste is terrible.”

But in his head, he’d said: Lilian, I love it here. It smells like you. You’re the only woman who will ever be in this room. No one can ever take you away.

But now, to force me to submit, to test my limits, he’s going to let another woman move right in.

A sharp pain, like a needle, stabs my heart.

Don’t go! Lilian, please, turn around! I’m just saying it to make you stay. I’d never touch her!

Just give in. Just say you’re jealous. Just come and take my hand, and I’ll kick her out right now! Please, look at me!

Marcello’s thoughts are like the screams of a cornered animal, begging in my mind.

“Fine by me,” I say without turning back, my voice cutting through the silence. “The mattress is on the softer side. I hope Miss Camilla finds it comfortable.”

“Oh, thank you, Don!” Camilla’s surprised, syrupy voice chirps from behind me.

I close my eyes, shutting out the noise, shutting out Marcello’s desperate thoughts, and push open the heavy doors.

The cold of the New York winter night wraps around me.

I pull out my phone and dial the hospital director.

“Dean Smith, it’s Lilian.” My voice is firm. “About the offer to transfer to the Royal Hospital in London for a visiting position… I’ve made my decision.”

“I accept.”

Dean Smith sighs in relief on the other end. “That’s wonderful, Lilian. Don’t worry, I guarantee you’ll get the best treatment there!”

I’d planned to talk to Marcello about this calmly after the banquet. I wanted to hear his real thoughts, just once, not filtered through a layer of venom. I wanted to tell him it was a huge career opportunity, but that I’d be back soon.

Now, it seems, there’s no point.

After hanging up, I book a flight to London for tomorrow night.