“Do not post her face without her permission.”
The man lowered his phone immediately.
Then Dante addressed the bakery manager, who had appeared near the counter.
“Preserve your security footage.
She may need it.”
Derek’s panic sharpened.
“For what? I made a comment.
Since when is that a crime?”
“It is not,” Dante replied.
“But men who behave like you often lie about what happened afterward.”
Derek opened his mouth, but Tiffany stepped away from him.
She removed her hand from beneath his elbow and stared at the diamond on her finger.
“Did she really buy your Rolex?” she asked.
Derek’s face reddened.
“This is ridiculous.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
He reached for her, but she moved farther away.
I watched something unfamiliar happen.
Derek was losing control of a room, and no amount of charm could restore it.
He pointed at me.
“You did this on purpose.”
I almost asked which part he meant.
Becoming pregnant? Walking into a bakery? Refusing to be humiliated quietly?
Instead, I placed the crushed bag of croissants on a nearby table.
“No, Derek.
I asked you to move.”
His expression twisted.
One of Dante’s men shifted forward, but Dante lifted two fingers and stopped him.
Then Dante looked at me.
“Do you want him removed?”
It was my decision.
That mattered more than the question itself.
I studied Derek—the man I had once loved, financed, defended, and forgiven.
For years, I had mistaken his need for me as devotion.
I understood now that he had loved what I did for him, not who I was.
“No,” I said.
“I want to leave.”
Dante nodded.
He picked up my paper bag as carefully as if it contained glass and offered me his other arm without touching me.
I did not take it immediately.
His hand remained still.
When I finally rested my fingers against his sleeve, he led me toward the doors.
Behind us, Derek called my name.
I did not turn around.
Outside, the humid air struck my face.
Cars crawled past the curb.
People hurried along the sidewalk, unaware that my life had split open inside the bakery behind them.
A black sedan waited nearby.
Dante opened the rear door, then paused.
“You are free to walk away,” he said.
“I will not put you in a car because I expect obedience.”
I looked at him.
The feared Dante Cassano was offering me an exit.
“Where would we go?”
“Anywhere public you choose.
A hospital.
