Aria’s POV

I agreed to meet Dante. Not in secret. In public. The location was deliberate: a Corvatti-owned restaurant draped in velvet and lined with quiet security. No Morelli had dared step foot here in years. That alone made it symbolic. Strategic. Dangerous. Gianna called it a trap. Alessia called it pathetic. I called it power.

And I dressed like it too—navy silk, heels like weapons, and my father’s crest ring on full display.

He arrived late. Not by much, but enough to remind me he hadn’t changed. Still playing games. Still pretending I might wait. He walked in alone, eyes scanning the room like it could forgive him. He was dressed well, I’ve always been proud of my handsome husband. Tailored gray, sleeves crisp, tie sharp. But none of it mattered.

He sat across from me without speaking. Let the silence do its usual test. I didn’t fill it. I never did anymore. The server poured the wine: Corvatti vintage, aged longer than our marriage had lasted. I swirled it slowly, then met his eyes.

“I came without demands,” he said. His voice wasn’t cold, just hollow. “Only answers.” I nodded once. Let the glass rest in my hand.

“Then speak,” I said. He looked down for a moment. Like the words cost him something. Then he said them anyway.

“I was never raised to love,” he said. “Only to win. And when I married you, I thought I’d won a pawn. Someone soft. Replaceable.” He paused, then met my gaze again. “But I didn’t know I’d lost the queen.”

I didn’t blink. But for a second, something in my chest twisted.

He reached for his glass. I reached for my armor. I smiled. The kind that warned and wounded.

“You don’t get to mourn what you murdered,” I said. His eyes flinched. His fingers twitched. But he didn’t deny it. That was progress, at least.

He reached for my hand. I moved it before he touched me. Not harshly.

We didn’t talk about the headlines. The betrayal. The staff surveillance. We didn’t talk about the kingdom he burned or the one I built from its ashes. This wasn’t about the past. It was about presence. About the fact that I could sit across from him, untouched by everything he thought would break me.

He shifted in his seat after I pulled my hand away.

“You don’t have to forgive me,” he said quietly. “I don’t expect that. I just needed to say it.” I didn’t answer. Let the quiet stretch. Let him sit in the discomfort he used to make my entire life.

“Do you regret Valentina?” I asked suddenly. His eyes widened, just slightly.

“She was easy,” he said. “And loud. And temporary. But I didn’t see that until it was too late.”

I nodded slowly. “That’s the problem with men like you. You think temporary things come without consequences.”

“I now think I was lucky you ignored me,” I said, swirling the last of the wine. “Because when everything burned, I was already used to being invisible.”

He looked like he wanted to argue. I didn’t let him. “But now I realize—I was never invisible. You just didn’t have the vision.”

He let out a breath like surrender. “If I could go back—”

“You can’t,” I cut in. “And even if you could, you wouldn’t know how to change.”

My phone buzzed once in my clutch. I ignored it. He noticed. “Someone waiting for you?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “Just someone who already knows what not to ask.”

He smiled, sad and broken. “Is it Luca?”

I looked at him, unimpressed.

“You lost the right to ask about my life the second you decided yours didn’t include me.”

He nodded once.

The hallway outside the restaurant was empty.

Later, Gianna called me. I saw her name flash on my screen and let it ring twice before answering. Her voice was brittle. Desperate.

“We are losing everything,” she said. “The family’s crumbling. Dante’s business is in freefall. The board is fracturing. Come back, Aria. We’ll make it right. We’ll make you the wife you deserved to be.”

I laughed. Full and free. Not cruel. Just clear.

“You couldn’t even make me tea,” I said.