Don't Cry Now, My Heartless Ex-Husband

Alexia POV

The fireworks outside were booming, rattling the windowpane, but the silence inside the hotel room was heavier. Suffocating.

Jacob stood by the door. He didn't look like a man who had just desecrated a grave. He looked like a man who had just closed a difficult business transaction.

"It had to be done, Alexia," he said. His voice was calm. Reasonable. Terrifyingly steady. "The family honor was compromised. The rumors you started..."

"I didn't start rumors," I said. I was standing by the window, looking down at the shadowy alleyway three stories below. "I told the truth."

"Truth is a matter of perspective," he countered. He walked closer, his shoes silent on the plush carpet. "I still care for you. You know that. But you have to learn your place."

"My place is six feet under, apparently. Or scattered in the sea like my mother."

He flinched. A muscle in his jaw jumped. Good.

"How is your hand?" he asked abruptly.

The question was so absurd a hysterical laugh bubbled in my throat.

"My hand?" I held up the claw. The scars were jagged silver lines under the unforgiving hotel lights. "You destroyed it. You destroyed my heart. You are the root of every ounce of pain in my body, Jacob. Don't pretend to care about the wreckage you caused."

His eyes flickered. For a second, I saw the man I thought I married ten years ago. The man who once brought me a single red rose.

Then the door burst open.

Cassandra rushed in. She wasn't wearing a hospital gown anymore. She was draped in silk.

"Jacob!" she gasped, clutching her chest. "She's scaring me! Jacob, look at her eyes!"

Jacob turned to her instantly. His body shielded hers. The instinct was immediate. Undeniable.

"It's okay," he soothed her, his hand resting on her back. "She's just upset."

"Upset?" Cassandra peeked out from behind his arm. Her fear vanished, replaced by a sneer only visible to me. "Sister, I heard you're destitute. Living like a sewer rat."

She opened her designer clutch. She pulled out a stack of euros. Thick. Crisp.

"Here," she said, flinging the money at my feet. "Buy yourself something nice. Maybe a glove to hide that ugly hand."

I looked at the money scattered on the carpet. It was probably skimmed from the shipments I had tracked.

"Your money is dirty," I said, my voice trembling with suppressed rage. "And my dignity isn't for sale."

"Dignity?" Cassandra laughed. It was a brittle, glassy sound. "You're a cripple, Alexia. You're nothing."

I remembered the nights I stayed up fixing the ledgers she butchered. The times I covered for her "mistakes" so Jacob wouldn't worry.

"I know about the accounts, Cassandra," I said softly. "I know about the phantom shipments."

She froze. Then she wailed. A loud, theatrical sob that echoed off the walls. She threw herself into Jacob's arms.

"She's lying! She's trying to turn you against me because she's jealous!"

Jacob wrapped his arms around her. He looked at me over her shaking shoulders. His eyes were ice again. The man with the rose was gone.

"That's enough," he said. "You've lost your mind, Alexia."

"Is this love, Jacob?" I asked. "Hiding behind a thief? You have no conscience."

He didn't answer. He couldn't.

"Lock her in," he ordered the guards outside. "Cassandra needs to rest. We'll deal with Alexia's... discipline... later. Get the enforcer."

The enforcer. That meant broken bones. That meant they were done playing nice. That meant I wouldn't survive the night.

The door clicked shut. The lock turned with a finality that chilled my blood.

I was alone.

I looked at the money on the floor. I kicked it aside.

I walked to the window. I opened it. The winter air bit my face, sharp and stinging.

Three stories. There was a dumpster filled with cardboard boxes below. It was risky. It was stupid.

But staying here was suicide.

I climbed onto the narrow ledge. I didn't look back at the room. I didn't look back at the husband who chose a thief over his wife.

I jumped.