Chapter 6

I glanced back and spotted Luciana just inside the gate. She rested one hand on the chain-link fence, looking as though the entire dockyard was a source of personal amusement.

She looked completely out of place in her pale coat and narrow heels. She was all perfume and polish, standing in a yard that reeked of diesel, rain, and rust. Her gaze swept over me slowly. She took in the dust on my jeans, the clipboard in my hand, and the team eating takeout by the stacked crates behind me.

"So this is where you ended up," she said lightly. "I wondered how long you'd last before finding a place more suited to you."

I stared at her shoes sinking into the gravel. "You always looked more comfortable in my life than I ever did."

Her smile tightened.

Before she could respond, I added, "Watching you take over my schedule, my home, and my husband was highly educational. It's impressive how far ambition can take you when it masquerades as loyalty."

A car door slammed shut behind her.

Dante stepped out of a black sedan and made his way across the yard.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

Luciana’s demeanor shifted instantly. Her shoulders drew inward, and her voice dropped to a soft murmur.

"Nothing. I just told her you were worried. I thought she might stop being so angry if she saw you came all this way." She lowered her eyes. "I didn't mean to upset her."

My grip tightened around the clipboard.

Dante looked at me, and an unreadable expression crossed his face for a split second. My hair was messily tied back, my hands were rough with paper cuts and dust, and every trace of polish had been stripped away from me.

"Alessia," he said, his voice dropping. "What are you doing here?"

I almost laughed out loud.

He stepped closer. "You've barely recovered, yet you're working in a freight yard."

He reached for my arm, clearly intent on pulling me away and dragging me back to the life he believed I belonged in.

"Come home," he said. "Whatever point you were trying to make, you've made it."

I stepped back before he could make contact.

The entire yard had fallen silent around us.

Dante lowered his voice. "Luciana was only trying to help. You don't need to keep punishing everyone just because you're hurting."

"Help?" I repeated. "If this is what help looks like, you should both be incredibly proud."

His expression hardened.

He surveyed the floodlit yard. Taking in the portable office, the heavy trucks, and the swirling dust, his gaze sharpened with obvious distaste.

"This isn't where you belong," he told me. "Get your things. I'll have the car brought around."

A woman from the audit team leaned in and whispered, "Your husband?"

I kept my eyes locked on Dante. "My ex. He's just a little behind on the paperwork."

Even Luciana's expression faltered at that remark.

Dante stepped directly into my path.

"Don't do that," he warned quietly. "Don't talk about us like that in front of strangers."

"Then stop acting like I'm still your property to collect."

His jaw clenched tight.

"I came because you walked out while you were still under post-op care," he said. "You're exhausted and emotional, yet you're standing in the middle of a freight yard as if this is perfectly normal. You don't leave my protection in this condition and expect me not to come after you."

"There it is again," I said. "You always are."

Something in my tone must have struck a nerve, because his patience finally wore thin.

"Fine," he said, pulling out his phone. "If you insist on acting like none of this matters, maybe you need to see what life looks like when I'm not fixing everything behind your back."

I knew exactly what he meant before he even started dialing. He was calling the clinic and the specialists, wielding the money he still believed gave him the final say.

He put the call on speakerphone.

"Dr. Marchetti," Dante said, his gaze never leaving mine. "Scale back the emergency interventions on Alessia's file unless there is an actual medical need. My child isn't so fragile that every bout of anxiety constitutes a crisis, and letting her spiral like this is worse for the baby than anything else."

He paused, waiting for me to show fear.

Instead, he was met with dead silence.

Finally, the doctor spoke, his voice strained. "Mr. Valerius... what are you talking about?"

Dante's expression sharpened. "Her treatment."

Dr. Marchetti took a heavy breath.

"I assumed you had been told. After the delay, there was no way to save the pregnancy..."