Chapter 22: The cost of his choice
The night felt longer than usual.
The silence in the apartment was no longer comforting. It was heavy, pregnant with words unsaid and truths that clawed under the skin. Alessia lay still in bed, her back turned to the door, her eyes fixed on the empty side of the mattress that once smelled of Luca’s cologne.
She didn’t hear his footsteps, not this time.
But she knew he was there.
He stood by the door, his shadow blending with the darkness, hesitant. Broken. Silent.
"Alessia," he whispered.
She didn’t answer.
His voice cracked with guilt. "I know you’re awake, love. I... I just want to talk."
Still, she didn’t turn. Didn’t blink. Her chest was a dam, and the weight behind it threatened to break her apart.
"I’m only doing this because Bianca’s pregnant. She asked for one night. One massage. She says she feels alone."
Alone? The word made her eyes sting. What about me? Alessia screamed in her mind. Aren’t I the one being left behind in my own marriage?
"I’ll be back before midnight," Luca murmured. "Please don’t misunderstand."
She curled tighter beneath the blanket, pretending to breathe slowly.
"I love you, Alessia. You’re my home."
The door clicked shut.
And with it, Alessia shattered.
****
Luca’s feet felt heavier with each step as he crossed the quiet corridor. Every breath was a betrayal. His chest burned with conflict, and his heart felt misplaced and stuck somewhere between obligation and the woman he truly loved.
Bianca’s door was already ajar.
As he entered, the scent of jasmine and vanilla struck him first—strong and deliberate. Then came the visual: Bianca reclining on a velvet settee, dressed in an expensive silk nightgown, her eyes lined with kohl, her lips painted in crimson.
She looked like a temptation wrapped in deceit.
"You came," she said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
Luca nodded, jaw clenched. "Only because you said you weren’t feeling well."
Bianca stood and walked toward him, the silk brushing against her legs like whispers of seduction. "It’s not just my ankles this time, Luca. My back... my hips... they ache. I just need comfort."
She ran her hand along his chest, fingers tracing old scars like she knew them still.
Luca inhaled deeply, resisting the urge to pull away. His hand went to the buttons of his shirt. He undressed quietly, movements mechanical, heart screaming.
She lay on the bed, the covers pulled back invitingly. "Join me. Please."
He slipped beside her, resting on his back. He wasn’t aroused. Not even close. He was furious with himself, with this situation, with the mess that was now spilling into the sanctity of his marriage.
Bianca turned to him. "You used to kiss me when I was sad. Hold me tighter when I was scared. Can you... at least do that now?"
Luca turned slowly, hesitating.
She caught his hand and placed it on her waist. "Just hold me."
His arm rested around her, and her body snuggled into his like a puzzle piece that never quite fit.
The air grew thick.
Then came the sound.
A moan.
Low at first, then louder. As if echoing through the walls like a siren of betrayal.
Luca’s eyes widened. "Bianca... what the hell are you doing?"
But she only smirked, still facing the other side. Her voice came in a whisper. "She’s awake, isn’t she? Let her hear what she thinks is happening."
"Stop it," Luca growled. "Now."
Another moan. Louder.
"Bianca!" he barked, removing his arm from her and sitting up. "I said stop!"
"You’re already in my bed, Luca. What’s the point pretending?"
"I didn’t come here to sleep with you!" His voice was raw, torn from the depths of his guilt. "I came because I thought you were in pain. But you’re just... cruel."
Bianca sat up, her silk gown falling off one shoulder. "Is it cruel to want the man who might be the father of my child to comfort me?"
Luca stood up, fury pouring from his eyes. "That child, if it’s even mine, won’t grow up seeing this. I won’t let you manipulate me through guilt."
She rose too, desperate now. "So what, you’re just going to walk out?"
He grabbed his shirt. "Damn right, I am."
Her voice dropped, bitter and cold. "Then at least leave the door open. Let her stew in her assumptions."
Luca’s steps echoed like judgment as he walked out without looking back.
*****
Alessia had heard everything differently.
Every Single Sound.
The moans.
The shifting of the bed.
The silence afterward.
Her hands were shaking as she reached for her phone, scrolling with trembling fingers to Daisy’s number.
It rang once. Twice. Then a sleepy voice picked up. "Alessia?"
She choked on a sob. "He’s... he’s in her room."
Daisy sat upright in her bed miles away. "What?"
"I heard her. Moaning. Loud. Over and over." Her voice cracked. "She’s wearing silk, Daisy. And he went in willingly."
"Oh God..."
"He’s screwing her, Daisy. Just like he screwed me. The same hands. The same lips. He’s sharing his body with another woman while I’m here breaking."
"No, Alessia, no—he wouldn’t..... "
"I heard her!" Alessia snapped. "Don’t defend him! He’s with her. In her bed."
Silence.
Then Daisy said softly, "Do you want me to come over?"
"Can you?" Alessia’s voice was barely above a whisper. "I don’t think I can breathe if I stay here another night."
"I’ll come in the morning. Just hold on for me, okay?"
Alessia nodded through her tears. "Okay."
She ended the call and sat up, her hands pressed to her chest.
The apartment felt like a prison.
Every room haunted.
Every breath heavier than the last.
She walked to the balcony, barefoot, the cold tiles biting her skin. The sky was weeping too—soft rain beginning to fall, as if the universe mirrored her pain.
Then she looked across the courtyard—and saw a silhouette.
Luca.
Walking back toward their apartment.
She ducked back inside, wiping her face, dragging herself into bed. She lay flat, pretending once again.
The door opened.
Soft steps.
Then the dip of the mattress beside her.
He didn’t say anything.
Neither did she.
But when he reached to hold her, she tensed.
And when he whispered her name, she didn’t answer.
Luca’s heart sank.
He had chosen the wrong door—and now he was locked out of the one that mattered most.....Certainly. Here’s a powerful, editor-worthy cliffhanger ending that heightens the emotional devastation and raises the stakes, ensuring your readers must click next:
*****
Just as Luca shifted closer, desperate to bridge the silence, Alessia turned to him at last.
But it wasn’t love in her eyes.
It was fire.
And something else.
Resolve.
"I’m leaving in the morning," she whispered, her voice flat and final.
Luca froze. "What?"
Her next words cut like ice through his chest.
"You chose her bed, Luca. Now sleep in it forever."
And before he could speak, before he could even beg
Alessia reached for the nightstand drawer.
And pulled out her wedding ring.
She had removed it, since last night.
The one that pulsed beneath her fingers with ancient heat
with power tied to blood, betrayal, and vengeance.
Her voice was low. Cold.
"Maybe it’s time I remembered who I really am."
The page shimmered.
Luca’s eyes widened.
"No... Alessia, don’t..... "
But it was already too late.
The shadows in the room shifted.
And the woman beside him—
was no longer just his wife.
She was the storm.
And hell was about to break loose.
"I’m divorcing you Luca "... Alessia finally said.