Jealous Games, Broken Hearts

My husband, Rafael Vescari, was the most feared Don in the city. Men lowered their eyes when he entered a room, and women knew better than to touch him. But when it came to me, Rafael had always been different. Especially after I became pregnant with his child. He hated other men looking at me. He hated me talking to them. Lately, he barely let me out of his sight. I only spoke to another man for three minutes at the gala. That was enough to make Rafael furious. He couldn't punish me the way he normally would. So he chose another weapon. Jealousy. He brushed a strand of hair from Sloane’s face while making sure I was watching. He drove her home even though she lived only a few blocks away, and he answered every message she sent while leaving mine unread. At first, I dismissed it as a childish game between lovers. I chased after him, asked him to stop, and believed he would eventually grow tired of it. It wasn’t until I was in a car accident that I realized I was wrong. While I lay unconscious and bleeding, the hospital called Rafael. The surgeon warned him that our baby was losing oxygen and asked him to come immediately. Rafael stayed with Sloane, whose injured wrist needed only a few stitches. “Elodie is using the baby to get my attention. Tell her I’ll come when she apologizes.” He hung up. Hours later, Rafael finally reached the hospital. The surgeon met him outside the operating room. “Your wife survived. The baby didn’t.” I watched the color drain from his face and removed my wedding ring. “Our son is gone.” “And I don’t want you anymore.” Chapter 1 When Sloane posted yet another intimate photo of her and Rafael on social media, I sent him a message asking for a divorce. Rafael called three minutes later. I watched Rafael name light up my screen and disappear. When he called a third time, I answered. "What is this supposed to mean, Elodie?" His voice was glacial. I closed the bottle of prenatal vitamins on the coffee table. "Exactly what it says." There was a brief silence. "You want a divorce because Sloane made one post?" Sloane. He said her name with effortless familiarity. It still hurt, but I was tired of pretending it did not. "This isn't about her." "Then what is it? The dinner I sent her? Driving her home? Answering a few messages?" Each question pressed another nail into my heart. "It's because you knew it would hurt me." After another pause, he said, "Then remember not to spend so long talking to another man in front of me again." My message was still on the screen. [Let's get a divorce.] "He was my college classmate. We were discussing an exhibition." "I didn't like it." "So you deliberately use Sloane to punish me?" "I'm teaching you a lesson. I thought you would understand." Rafael always expected me to understand. His obligations came first. His authority was not to be challenged. Sloane could ride in his car and wear his coat because he had never slept with her. In his mind, he had not betrayed me. He had merely used another woman to remind me who controlled our marriage. "I understand now." His tone softened, certain I had surrendered. "Then come downstairs. I'm outside." His black sedan waited below my studio apartment, flanked by Vescari guards. I had moved here after our argument instead of returning to the estate. Once, the sight of Rafael coming for me would have been enough. Even without an apology, I would have told myself that his presence proved he cared. Tonight, I stayed where I was. "I'm not coming down." "Elodie, stop this." Those words unlocked three years of humiliation. I had always feared his anger, his silence, and the tenderness he displayed to Sloane whenever he wanted to wound me. I had always yielded first. "I'm not making a scene. I want a divorce." He gave a disbelieving laugh. "You're carrying my child, and you're talking about leaving me?" "That is exactly why I'm leaving. I won't let our child grow up watching his father use another woman to humiliate his mother." "I have never betrayed you," he said sharply. "There is nothing between Sloane and me. She simply knows how to make you remember your place." Even his denial was arrogant. "You are my wife. You carry the Vescari heir. You live in my property under my protection. You cannot leave me." I rested a hand on my rounded stomach. The baby moved beneath my palm. "Then let's test that theory." His voice hardened. "Fine. Take two days to calm down. When you come to your senses, return to the estate. I'll leave you a way back, but don't force me to bring you home myself." The passenger door of his car opened. Sloane stepped out wearing Rafael's black coat. She looked up at my window, smiled, and waved her phone. Rafael saw me watching. Without explanation, he pulled the coat more securely around her shoulders, making certain I saw every movement. "Now do you understand?" he asked. "This is what a lesson looks like." I ended the call. Eventually, he drove away with Sloane. A friend request appeared on my phone moments later. [Mrs. Vescari, how many days will you last this time?] Chapter 2 Rafael's mother called the next morning. "Elodie, there is a family dinner tonight. You and Rafael will attend together." I slipped my studio keys into my bag. "I won't be there." "Rafael said you had a disagreement." "I asked him for a divorce." She laughed softly, as if I had said something childish. "A Vescari marriage is not an ordinary romance. You are the Don's wife, carrying his heir. Whatever happens in private, the outside world cannot see a fracture within this family." "This isn't about saving Rafael's pride. It's about ending the marriage." Her voice cooled. "Be angry. Demand compensation. But do not challenge his authority in public. Rafael came to collect you himself. That was his concession." "He brought Sloane." "Then you have even less reason to hide. Sloane will attend tonight. You are his lawful wife. If you lack the courage to sit beside him, people will assume she can replace you." She did not care whether I had been hurt. She cared that the Don had been defied and that outsiders might see his marriage breaking. "I'm not going." "The Vescari name gave you status, safety, and protection. None of that comes without obligations. Seven o'clock. Do not make Rafael send someone for you." I hung up. That afternoon, my assistant Maya met me at the studio door with an uneasy expression. "Don Vescari is here." Rafael sat in the lounge with Sloane beside him, flipping through my students' portfolios. On the table were lunch and the prenatal supplements my doctor required. Rafael knew my appetite had been poor and remembered exactly when I needed to eat. That did not stop him from invading my workplace to force my submission. Sloane smiled sweetly when she saw me. "Your work is beautiful." Her hand rested on a watercolor I had submitted to a young artists' exhibition. An old streetlamp illuminated an empty chair. Rafael once said he loved it, so I had revised the light seventeen times. "It's a little lonely," Sloane said. "I wouldn't hang it in a home." "Sloane wants to learn to paint," Rafael said. "I brought her to look around." "My studio does not accept unannounced visitors." Sloane's eyes immediately filled. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize I wasn't welcome." Rafael's warning came in one word. "Elodie." Several students were watching, but I refused to retreat from my own studio. Rafael approached me. "Was yesterday not enough? I came to take you to the family dinner." "I already declined." His smile held no warmth. He turned toward Sloane. "You like that painting? Take it." "Can I? It belongs to Elodie." "I'll buy it. The security system, equipment upgrades, exhibition contacts. Which part of this studio has never benefited from Vescari resources?" Silence fell. The security protected me from his enemies. The equipment had been an anniversary gift. My work had earned its place in the exhibition. With one sentence, he reduced years of effort to his charity. "The painting is not for sale." "Or you simply don't want Sloane to have it?" Her fingers were already touching the frame. I took it from her. "No one is taking it." Rafael closed a hand around my wrist, firm enough to prevent escape but not injure me. His other hand automatically steadied my waist, protecting the child even while humiliating its mother. "Apologize to Sloane." "You want me to apologize in my own studio to a woman trying to take my work?" "Do not make me repeat myself." I pulled free. "Then don't. I will not apologize." Rafael called the head of security in front of me. "Withdraw everyone assigned to my wife's apartment and studio." The man hesitated. "Don, she is pregnant, and the East Side crew has been asking about her schedule." "She claims she doesn't need the Vescari family. Let her learn what life without its protection feels like." After hanging up, Rafael leaned close. "You may be angry, but you will not leave this city carrying my child. When fear teaches you some sense, return to the estate and apologize." He left with Sloane. Soon, the two cars that had guarded my studio for three years pulled away. Chapter 3 Before leaving, Rafael also warned me, "I'll speak to the exhibition committee. When you learn how to speak to me, perhaps you can participate." Before my class ended, the organizers called to say my acceptance was under review because of a copyright complaint. Minutes later, Sloane posted a clumsy imitation of Empty Chair. My first painting. Rafael says I have more instinct than some people who studied for years. Her friends praised her version. Sloane replied, Don't say that. Elodie might be upset. Her lines were weak, the perspective wrong, the shadows inconsistent. Yet Rafael's praise was enough to turn my work into a joke. At six, he ordered me to attend dinner. Then he reminded me that a Don's wife could not be absent and that he had prepared food suitable for my pregnancy. I called him. "Withdraw your interference with the exhibition." "Come home and apologize to Sloane. Everything will return to normal." "She copied my work and filed the complaint." His momentary silence told me he knew. "It is only a student exhibition," he said. "Once you learn to place this family above trivial matters, I can arrange something larger." "My career will always be trivial to you." "I didn't say that." "You keep proving it." His patience thinned. "You demanded a divorce, refused dinner, embarrassed Sloane, and made me a joke before my own family. I am reminding you what leaving Vescari protection means. At seven, wear the black dress I sent. Come back to me, and this ends." He believed that if he tightened the leash enough, I would kneel. At seven, I entered his car in a plain white suit, with divorce papers in my bag. This was not surrender. I intended to end his obedience test before the entire family. The Vescari dining hall was full. Rafael sat at the head of the table. Sloane occupied the chair reserved for his wife, wearing the diamond bracelet he had once given me. My place was at the far end. "You finally came," his mother said. Sloane smiled. "I thought you might refuse." Rafael frowned at my suit. "Where is the dress I sent?" "At the studio." "Sit down." Instead, I placed the divorce agreement before him. "Sign it." No one moved. Rafael glanced at the papers and laughed. "You came all this way for this?" "I came so everyone would know I meant it." He pushed them aside. "Sit. I'll deal with your temper after dinner." He still did not believe I could leave. Then servants brought out a birthday cake. This supposed family dinner was Sloane's celebration. She closed her eyes and made a wish from my chair. "My only wish is for Elodie to stop being angry with me." Guests murmured that I should give Rafael a graceful way out. A server placed a glass of alcohol-free champagne before me. Even while degrading me, he remembered to protect his child. "Toast Sloane and apologize," Rafael ordered. "Then we'll go home." I lifted the glass. Relief flickered in his eyes. Then I poured it onto the floor. "There will be no apology. The divorce is real. From today on, I want none of your money, your name, or your protection." His expression went cold. "Try walking out of this estate." I removed my wedding ring and set it on the divorce papers. "Watch me." Sloane caught my arm as I turned away. "Don't leave. Rafael only did this because he cares about you." I shook her off. She deliberately fell into a table of champagne glasses. As the glass shattered, a fragment cut her wrist. "I know you hate me," she sobbed, "but you didn't have to push me." Rafael seized my wrist. "Apologize." "I didn't push her." "Rafael, let her go," Sloane cried. "I don't want to cause another fight." His grip tightened. "Apologize, Elodie." He knew me. He knew I would never attack someone without cause. Yet one tear from Sloane was enough for him to demand my surrender. Something inside me went still. "Take care of her. This is the last time you will ever use her to punish me." I left. Rafael did not follow because he was certain that, without his guards, I could not even escape the city. There was no driver waiting outside. I took a car from the garage and drove away alone. Inside, while a doctor cleaned the shallow cut on her wrist, Sloane secretly sent a message. Twenty minutes later, two unfamiliar black cars appeared in my mirror. Chapter 4 Two black cars followed me from the Vescari estate. One stayed behind me while the other forced me toward the edge of the rain-soaked road. I called Rafael, but he rejected the call. A moment later, the car behind me struck my bumper. The seat belt tightened across my stomach. My phone fell to the floor, and the baby kicked hard beneath my hand. "Don't be afraid," I whispered. "Mommy will get you out." The second car scraped against mine. At the next curve, my tires lost their grip. The car broke through the barrier and overturned. When I briefly regained consciousness, my legs were trapped beside the crushed door. Blood soaked my dress, and something warm ran down my thighs. "My baby…" Then everything went dark. At the hospital, the doctors discovered severe internal bleeding and placental abruption. My baby still had a heartbeat, but he was rapidly losing oxygen. I needed an emergency C-section. I remained unconscious, so the hospital called Rafael as my emergency contact. "Mr. Vescari, your wife has been in a serious accident. She is hemorrhaging, and the baby is in distress. We need you to come sign the surgical consent forms immediately." Rafael was still at the estate with Sloane. "Elodie walked out because I asked her to apologize. Now she is using the baby to frighten me into chasing after her. Tell her I'll come when she stops pretending." He hung up. The hospital called again, but he refused to answer. When my baby's heartbeat began to fail, the doctors proceeded under emergency authority. ... An hour later, Marco brought Rafael photographs of the crash. My car lay upside down beside the road, with blood covering the driver's seat. Sloane glanced at the photographs and shook her head. "Elodie knew you wouldn't follow her, so she staged something dramatic enough to frighten you. Using the baby to force you to come running is cruel even for her." Rafael threw the photographs back at Marco. "Did Elodie pay you to participate in this?" Marco stiffened. "Don, the hospital confirmed the accident." "Who do you answer to?" "You." "Then stop helping my wife perform for me. If you would rather take orders from Elodie, go make her your Don." Rafael ordered Marco out. He was still threatening to punish me for using our child to manipulate him when the television behind Sloane interrupted with a breaking-news report. A reporter stood beside the destroyed guardrail. "A pregnant woman remains in critical condition after two black SUVs forced her vehicle off Westbridge Road earlier tonight. Witnesses reported that one vehicle repeatedly struck her car before it broke through the barrier. Police are investigating the crash as attempted murder." The screen changed to footage from the scene. Paramedics lifted a stretcher into an ambulance. One bloodless hand slipped from beneath the emergency blanket, and the diamond wedding ring on its finger caught the camera light. Rafael stared at the hand on the screen as the ambulance doors closed. The color drained from his face. He had designed that ring himself.