Chapter 3

Caterina "Cat" POV:

The rain slowed to a drizzle. I stepped out of the café, pulling my coat tighter against the damp chill.

And then I saw it.

Alex's black armored Audi was parked at the curb. He was getting out, rounding the hood to open the passenger door. A woman with long, dark hair emerged-Isabella Rossi.

He saw me then. His eyes, cold and gray as the stormy sky, held no surprise, no guilt. Only annoyance.

I fumbled for my phone, trying to pull up a rideshare app, my fingers clumsy with shock. I took a step back, and my heel caught on an uneven cobblestone. My ankle twisted, and a sharp, searing pain lanced up my leg. I cried out, stumbling against the wall, fighting to stay upright.

Alex watched me struggle for a beat, his expression impassive. Then he turned his back on me, took Isabella's arm, and escorted her into the very café I had just left.

My own husband. Leaving me hurt on the sidewalk for her.

A few minutes later, he came back out, holding two coffee cups. He walked over to me, his shadow falling over my crumpled form.

"Get in the car," he said. It wasn't a request. It was a command.

"I'll get my own ride," I bit out, the words tasting like acid.

He ignored me. With a sigh of pure irritation, he bent down, scooped me into his arms with cold efficiency, and deposited me in the front passenger seat.

He wasn't helping his own wife; he was handling a problem.

He got in the driver's seat and thrust a cup into my hand. It was black coffee. His preference. The kind I never drank. I silently pushed it back into the cup holder.

From the back seat, Isabella's soft voice murmured, "I think I'm getting carsick, Alex."

His tone instantly softened. The harsh edge was gone, replaced by a genuine concern that made my stomach clench. "You always did," he said, a small, private smile in his voice. "Remember that trip to the coast? You were green the whole way."

I felt like an intruder in my own husband's car. They spoke around me, their shared history a wall I could never scale.

He drove past the botanical gardens, the manicured lawns slick with rain. He'd taken me there on our first "date," a stilted, formal outing a month before our wedding. He'd told me it was one of his favorite places in the city.

I realized now it was never his place. It was theirs.

I was just a tourist in the ruins of their past.

The pain in my ankle and the sheer emotional exhaustion pulled me under. I must have drifted off, because I woke to the car being parked in our driveway. Isabella was gone. He must have dropped her off.

Alex glanced down at my swollen ankle, his lip curling in a sneer. "Are you faking this for attention, Caterina?"

A raw, cutting laugh tore from my throat. "Believe it or not, Alex, not everything is about you. I am a woman of substance, not some damsel in distress waiting to be saved."

A dangerous light flashed in his eyes. He leaned across the console, his voice dropping to a low growl.

"Is that a challenge?"