Chapter 3

It was two o'clock in the morning by the time I returned to the SoHo penthouse.

Vince had bought this apartment for me after our wedding—a four-thousand-square-foot loft converted from a 1920s industrial building. Its floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sweeping vista of Lower Manhattan. The deed was in my name alone.

That had been part of the prenuptial agreement. His legal team had spent three months drafting that document; it was over two hundred pages thick.

I double-locked the door. The first thing I did was text my private physician.

"I need a full cancer screening. Tomorrow morning, if possible. I'll pay in cash."

At 2:30 AM, she replied.

"There is an opening at Memorial Sloan Kettering at seven tomorrow morning. I will arrange it. Is everything alright?"

Memorial Sloan Kettering. The premier cancer center in New York.

In my previous life, I couldn't even get through their front doors.

"Just a check-up," I replied. "Thank you, Dr. Walton."

I set the phone down and walked toward the windows.

The Manhattan night was a restless sea of lights. This city never slept—even in the early hours, taxis and pedestrians still haunted the streets.

I used to love this city. During my years at the Rhode Island School of Design, I would take the Amtrak to New York every weekend to wander through the galleries of SoHo and the art districts of Brooklyn.

Then, I gave it all up for Vince.

RISD had offered me a full scholarship for graduate school; I turned it down. A curator from the Museum of Modern Art had taken an interest in my work and wanted to host a solo exhibition; I turned that down too.

Instead, I spent all my time learning how to be a "proper mob boss's wife"—how to cook Italian, how to taste wine, and how to maintain a polite, vacant smile at family gatherings.

How pathetic.

The door chimes signaled.

Vince was back.

He pushed through the door, yanking at his tie. His brow was furrowed with irritation.

"What exactly was that back there, Ava?" he demanded.

"You embarrassed me in front of everyone. You just walked out?"

Ever since Bella became his "special assistant," Vince's treatment of me had grown increasingly sharp. He found fault with everything I did—the coffee was too weak, the dinner was too salty, or my clothes were "inappropriate for family functions."

In my previous life, it was this shift in his attitude, coupled with Bella's constant provocations, that caused me to lose control over and over again.

I pushed down the dull ache in my chest.

"Believe it or not, Vince, I wasn't throwing a tantrum."

"Look." I pulled back my collar, revealing the red welt on my neck that I had tried to hide with foundation. "I already covered it up. So no, I'm not holding a grudge."

He froze, staring at the mark.

"I just need to sleep. That's all."

With that, I walked into the bathroom and locked the door.

By the time I finished my shower and emerged, Vince was gone.

However, my encrypted phone was vibrating incessantly.

Bella.

This was her ritual—whenever she was with Vince, she would send me photos. She treated my phone like her private scrapbook.

In my previous life, every photo sent me into a breakdown. I would cry for hours or storm into Vince's office to cause a scene.

Now, I opened the messages.

The first photo showed them in the manor's study. Vince was reviewing documents while Bella stood behind him, her hand resting familiarly on his shoulder.

The second was a car selfie. Bella was pouting at the camera while Vince drove.

The third showed Bella holding a champagne flute against the backdrop of the manor's terrace.

I calmly typed a response.

"The angle is wrong. His left profile is much better. Hold the phone higher. Also, there's too much negative space in the second one. It makes the two of you look distant."

A few seconds later, Bella replied.

"Did someone hack your account???"

I sent back a smiling emoji.

"No. Just a friendly tip—you can have him. Vince is all yours now."

I exited the app.

Then, I blocked her.

Setting the phone aside, I felt a wave of unprecedented relief.

This triangle worked for me now. I wanted the status of being the matriarch of the Costello family and the unlimited power of my American Express Black Card. As for Vince's body and soul, if Bella wanted them, she could have them.

I wasn't a fool anymore.

I no longer believed that love could conquer all.