1 Sitting by Dante's hospital bed, I watched the anesthesia keep its heavy hooks in him. His lips parted, slurring a string of digits into the sterile hospital air over and over again. I didn't even have to think. I picked up his phone on the nightstand, dialed the number he was mumbling, and pressed the receiver to my ear. The call connected almost instantly. A girl's voice, thick with tears and desperation, came through the speaker. I recognized her immediately. It was his star grad student. "Professor Bennett, I thought you were never going to call me again!" she cried out, her voice dripping with grievance. "Why have you been ignoring all my texts?" This was the same girl who, barely a month ago, had nearly pushed my marriage to the brink of divorce. I still remembered that night. Dante had smoked three packs of cigarettes in the freezing cold. The next morning, with bloodshot eyes, he dropped to his knees. He begged me to think of the baby growing inside me, to give him one last chance. He swore on his life that he would cut ties with her completely and return to our family. Now, my fingers gripped his phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. My body trembled, yet the voice that came out of my throat was terrifyingly calm. "He just got out of surgery. He's at St. Jude's Medical Center, room 403." Before she could process it, I added, "Come see him," and hung up. The moment the screen went black, I opened a browser and booked an appointment at a women's clinic for that very afternoon. Lying on the examination bed, I watched the cold IV fluid drip steadily into my veins. The rhythmic beeping of the monitor seemed to pull my consciousness into a blurry haze. Memories flashed behind my eyelids. I saw the college frat party years ago. Some drunk guy was mocking me, asking Dante why a brilliant Ivy League prospect like him would settle for a girl from a no-name state college. Dante had stepped right in front of me, his eyes blazing with a fury I had never seen before. "She is my entire world. Don't you ever question why I love her!" The scene shifted. It was the night I found out I was pregnant. Dante had just wrapped up a massive research grant and took his lab assistants out to celebrate. I went to the bar to pick him up, worried he would drink too much. Instead, I stood in the shadows and watched my husband look down with absolute tenderness as he took a shot glass from his female student's hand, drinking it for her. And beneath the sticky surface of the booth, hidden from the rest of the world, their fingers were tightly intertwined. The memories bled into each other, making my chest heave and my breath catch in my throat. We had been married for three years. People who didn't know us well always said I hit the jackpot, landing a handsome, brilliant professor like Dante Bennett. Those who knew our history said it was karma paying off. My dad had taken Dante in off the streets when he was a beaten, starving kid. Now that Dante was a success, he was making sure my dad and I never had to worry about a thing. I used to ask him, half-joking, why he really married me. Was it love, or was it just a debt of gratitude? He would always laugh, ruffle my hair, and call me silly. I really was incredibly stupid. I was naive enough to believe his feelings for me were genuine. It wasn't until I saw the way he looked at the woman he truly loved that the ugly truth hit me. He never loved me at all. "Mrs. Bennett? Are you awake?" The nurse's gentle voice pulled me back to reality. "The procedure went smoothly. You can rest in the recovery lounge for a bit before heading home." She helped me up and guided me to a plush chair in the next room. Just as she was about to leave, she paused, pulling a few tissues from a dispenser and handing them to me with a soft sigh. "You young people really need to be more careful. A few more weeks, and this wouldn't have been a simple outpatient procedure." It was only then I realized my cheeks were soaked with freezing tears. I didn't understand why I was crying. I had already made peace with losing this baby. The day I caught Dante crossing the line, I slapped divorce papers on the table. I told him I was terminating the pregnancy because I refused to bring a child into a broken, poisoned home. That was when Dante fell apart. He crawled to my feet, sobbing, begging for mercy. "Aria, I have no one else in this world!" he had choked out, pressing his face against my knees. "It's just you, Dad, and our unborn baby. If you throw me away, I'd rather be dead!" I knew Dante's dark past. I knew he wasn't making empty threats. So, against every instinct screaming in my head, I caved. I gave him a second chance. I forced myself to believe his promises of moving on. Yet his love for that young girl ran so terrifyingly deep that even when his brain was chemically paralyzed by anesthesia, hers was the only number he remembered. He didn't even know my license plate number by heart. A sharp cramp twisted through my lower abdomen, sending a wave of ice into my bloodstream. I don't know how long I sat there before they finally cleared me to leave. I just wanted to go home and crawl into bed, but my house keys were still sitting on Dante's nightstand. Dragging my aching, hollowed-out body, I took a cab back to his hospital room. I didn't expect Harper to be there already. Through the crack in the door, I saw her buried in Dante's chest, sobbing violently. "Why didn't you tell me you were having surgery? How long are you going to keep hiding from me?" Dante's hand hovered just inches above her hair, trembling with hesitation. Finally, he gave in. His palm rested gently on her head, his touch dripping with agonizing affection. "Stop crying. I'm fine, aren't I?" I stood outside the door like a pathetic voyeur, stealing a glimpse of someone else's epic romance. I stared at the raw, vulnerable tenderness on my husband's face. It was a look he had never, not once, given me. Harper jerked her head up, her face flushed with that toxic, entitled defiance only a twenty-something could muster. "Dante, I don't believe you don't love me. Look me in the eye and say it. Say you don't love me, and I'll walk out that door and never bother you again!" Dante's face froze. His eyes were a storm of suppressed agony and conflict. He let out a ragged sigh, his voice cracking. "Don't push me, Harper. You know exactly how I feel about you." "Then what about your wife?" Harper pressed, looking dangerously smug at his confession. "Is the rumor true? Are you only with her because you owe her dad your life? Is there really nothing between you two?" My heart seized in my chest. Sickeningly, a pathetic part of me was still holding its breath, waiting for his answer. But right at that moment, Dante looked up. His eyes locked onto mine through the glass panel of the door. Panic flashed across his face, and he instinctively tried to sit up. My keys were sitting on the table right next to his bed. I took a deep breath, swallowed the bile rising in my throat, and pushed the door open. Seeing me walk in, Harper shot up from the edge of the bed. There was no panic on her face. No guilt. No shame. Instead, she glared at me with blatant annoyance, as if I were the villain interrupting her tragic love story. This wasn't our first meeting. Just a week before I caught them, this same girl had been in my living room, eating dinner at my table. I had treated her like a little sister. When I finally confronted them after seeing them hold hands, she hadn't flinched. She looked me dead in the eye and said, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Mrs. Bennett. But this is a private faculty-student event. Non-academics need to leave." That night, when Dante dragged me out by my arm to avoid a scene, she had stood tall, watching me with that same fearless, mocking gaze. Just like today. But my stomach was cramping too fiercely to play the scorned wife. I didn't have the energy for a screaming match. I walked past them, grabbed my keys, and turned for the door. I didn't expect Dante to rip his IV out and stumble after me into the hallway. "Aria, listen to me! I swear I didn't call her!" he pleaded, grabbing my wrist. Blood was already welling up from the puncture wound on his hand. "I know," I said softly. "I called her. But she's the one you truly wanted to see, isn't she?" I sniffled, looking up into his panicked eyes. I forced the corners of my mouth up into a broken smile. "Dante, I know she's the one in your heart. So let's just get a divorce, okay?" Dante stared at me, his chest heaving. Then, suddenly, his desperation morphed into cold frustration. "Aria, I already promised you I'd end it with her. Today was an accident. You don't need to keep using divorce to threaten me." He tightened his grip on my arm. "You don't even have a job. How are you going to raise a baby on your own? How are you going to pay for your dad's nursing home?" Ever since my dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, Dante had used his university connections to get him into the best, most expensive memory care facility in the state. When my dad's condition was at its worst, Dante didn't trust the orderlies. He took time off work to bathe him, feed him, and clean up his messes with his own soft, academic hands. He didn't know it, but those moments had forged an ironclad shield around him in my heart. That was the only reason I gave him a second chance. But a shield can only take so many hits before it shatters completely. As for the baby... I yanked my arm out of his grasp and reached into my purse for the clinic discharge papers. Before I could pull them out, a loud crash echoed from inside the room, followed immediately by Harper's piercing shriek. "Professor Bennett... my stomach... it hurts so bad!" Without a single second of hesitation, Dante spun around and sprinted back toward the door. After two steps, he glanced back at me over his shoulder. "If you want to go home, just go. I'll explain everything tomorrow. But stop bringing up divorce. I don't want to hear that word again." I honestly don't remember how I got home that day. All I know is that shortly after walking through the front door, a violent fever hit me. Tossing and turning in a pool of sweat, my mind dragged me back to when Dante was eight years old. He was huddled in an alley, covered in blood, nearly beaten to death by his alcoholic father. I remembered tugging on my dad's sleeve, begging him to save the pretty boy with the sad eyes. I remembered his high school graduation. He got a full ride to a prestigious university, while I barely scraped into a local college. It was the first time I ever drank alcohol. Fueled by liquid courage, I cornered him and blurted out, "Dante, I'm in love with you. Do you want to be together?" Since the day we met, Dante had never said no to me. Not even that night. We dated, we graduated, we got married. It was supposed to be a fairy tale. How did it rot into this? A shrill ringtone ripped me out of the fevered nightmare. It was an unknown number. "Hello, is this Aria Bennett? Your father managed to bypass our security system. He's missing." It took them until three in the morning to find him. He was standing on the cracked pavement in front of our old childhood home, clutching two melted caramel apples in his wrinkled hands. "Aria, baby, come here! Daddy bought treats for you and little Dante," he beamed, his eyes milky and vacant. "Why didn't you wait for me at the school gates? Did you run off to play again?" Sticky caramel dripped onto his calloused fingers. I broke down. I threw my arms around his frail body, sobbing uncontrollably into his chest. "Dad... why did you wander off? You scared me to death!" After that night, I refused to take him back to the facility. We moved straight into the old house. I was divorcing Dante anyway. There was no way I was going to let him keep paying for my father's care. I had my own savings, enough for my dad and me to live a quiet, simple life. I didn't expect Dante to track us down so quickly. When I opened the front door, he pushed his way in, his face dark with fury. "Are you out of your mind taking him out of care? Do you have any idea how unstable his condition is right now..." "He is my father, Dante. I can take care of him," I cut him off smoothly, blocking the hallway so he couldn't take another step inside. Maybe his snobby academic friends were right. We were from two entirely different worlds. He was the esteemed Professor Bennett, and I was just an unemployed housewife. But even so, he had lost the right to dictate my family's life. Shock rippled across his face. "Are you seriously still throwing a tantrum over what happened?" I didn't answer. It was exhausting even looking at him. Arguing felt childish now. But he refused to back down. "Whatever issues we have between us, we handle them between us. You don't use Dad's safety as leverage in your petty little war! Aria, you've taken this joke way too far!" I almost laughed in his face. It was mind-blowing how he could commit the ultimate betrayal, yet stand there with such righteous indignation, lecturing me about being petty. But my body was still recovering from the surgery, and I had zero strength to fight. I just slammed the door in his face. What I didn't anticipate was the sheer scale of Dante's arrogance. The next afternoon, I ran to the grocery store. When I came back, the house was dead silent. My dad was gone. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Dante. "I've moved Dad to a private, secure location. Don't bother looking for him. He's got round-the-clock professional care. As for you, when you're ready to apologize and act like an adult, I'll let you see him. I'm flying out for an international symposium for a few days. We will discuss this when I get back." He fired off the sentences like a dictator, hung up, and immediately turned his phone off. I dropped my phone, my legs giving out as I collapsed onto the porch. For the first time in my life, I felt completely, utterly powerless. It was suffocating. I tried everything. I called lawyers, I called the police. But legally, Dante was listed as a primary contact and power of attorney from the previous facility. He had covered his tracks perfectly. Unless he gave the word, I wasn't seeing my dad. I spent the next few days wandering the empty house like a ghost. Every morning, I prayed for Dante's flight to land so he could finally tell me where he hid my father. But Dante never called. Instead, the police did. The call that brought the news of my father's death. My dad had slipped out while his new, expensive private nurse was using the bathroom. He was found wandering down a busy highway, muttering about "picking Aria up from school." A semi-truck couldn't brake in time. "Mrs. Bennett, we are incredibly sorry. By the time paramedics arrived, there was nothing they could do. We tried to reach your husband to get you there in time, but his phone went straight to voicemail." The morgue was freezing. My dad lay on a stainless steel table, a stark white sheet pulled over his face. Every step toward him felt like walking on broken glass. The moment I pulled back the sheet, my sanity snapped. I dropped to my knees on the unforgiving tile, grabbing his ice-cold, stiff hand, pressing it against my face. "Dad... daddy, please... why did you leave me all alone?" I wailed until my throat bled. The man who had held up my entire sky had been ripped away from me. I cried until my vision blurred into nothingness, until I was just an empty shell being physically supported by the morgue attendants. "We're so sorry for your loss, ma'am," they whispered. Just then, my phone chimed in my pocket. It was a text from Harper. [Can you stop having those nurses blow up Professor Bennett's phone? He is at an incredibly important conference right now. He doesn't have time to deal with your dead-weight father!] Attached was a photo. Dante was standing at a podium, looking handsome and commanding. Pressed right up against his side was Harper, beaming with pride. The photo was taken the exact second they locked eyes. The raw, unfiltered adoration passing between them was sickeningly obvious. Over the next few days, I arranged my father's funeral completely alone. I brought his ashes back to the old house and set up a memorial table in the living room. An old superstition says that unborn souls who aren't mourned will wander forever, lost in the dark. So, next to my father's urn, I placed a tiny wooden plaque. It read: Hope Bennett. It was the name Dante and I had picked out the night I showed him the positive test. I hadn't tried to contact Dante once, but suddenly, his texts started flooding in. [Have you thought about it? Do you realize how childish you were acting?] [When I fly back, I'll take you to see Dad. We can go to your OBGYN appointment for the baby right after.] I ignored every single one. Until tonight, when he sent: [Aria, I know I was harsh before. I lost my temper and crossed a line. Please, talk to me?] If this had happened a month ago, seeing his rare apology might have made my heart waver. But what he didn't know was that while he was playing the concerned husband, Harper had been relentlessly sending me updates of their romantic getaway. A picture of their intertwined hands watching the sunrise from a hotel balcony. A video of Dante cooking room service pasta for her in a plush robe. Paragraphs of unhinged rants, telling me I wasn't good enough for him and calling me a desperate leech who wouldn't let go. Exactly five minutes before Dante texted his apology, Harper had sent the final blow. It was a photo of Dante, shirtless and fast asleep, his head resting peacefully on her bare chest. [I gave him my virginity.] [Dante said he never knew what it meant to have two souls and bodies perfectly intertwine until tonight.] Fighting back the urge to vomit, I saved every single photo, every single text. I logged onto the university's official portal and found the anonymous tip line for the ethics committee and the Dean's office. I was going to let him go quietly. I really was. But they crossed the line. They killed my father. The day Dante finally flew back, I had already changed the locks on the house. He stood on the porch, knocking with practiced patience. "Aria, open the door, please. Don't you want to see Dad?" I had just finished lighting fresh incense for my father and my baby. As he pulled out his phone to call a locksmith, I yanked the front door open. A flash of irritation crossed his face, but the moment he looked past my shoulder into the living room, his eyes blew wide open in sheer horror. Dante shoved past me, stumbling toward the memorial table. He stared at the urn and the two plaques, his entire body trembling violently. "Aria... what the hell is this?" he choked out, his voice cracking. "Dad is perfectly fine! What kind of sick joke..." Before he could finish the sentence, his phone erupted in his pocket. It was the Dean of his college. Dante answered, his eyes still glued to the memorial. "Hello?" "Professor Bennett, the university has received a massive file containing evidence of an inappropriate relationship between you and your student, Harper. Furthermore, there are severe allegations of academic fraud and falsifying data for her publications. Based on our preliminary review, the evidence is damning. You need to come to the campus immediately."
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