The Billionaire's Regret, The Heiress's Revenge

Caterina "Cat" POV:

I tried to get out of the car on my own, but the moment I put weight on my foot, pain blasted behind my eyes.

Alex let out another impatient sigh, got out, and came around to my side. He lifted me again, carrying me into the house without a word, his touch so impersonal he might as well have been carrying a sack of groceries.

He placed me on the living room sofa and disappeared, returning with the first-aid kit. He knelt before me, his movements clumsy as he unwrapped an elastic bandage.

"Don't do that again," he said, his voice harsh as he wrapped my ankle. But his touch, surprisingly, was gentle.

It was the story of our marriage. The harsh and the gentle. The push and the pull. A cycle of control designed to keep me off balance, always craving the brief moments of warmth.

But I felt nothing now. Just a strange, hollow calm. The part of me that used to ache for his approval had gone numb.

"Thank you," I said, my voice polite and empty.

He finished and remained kneeling, looking up at me, clearly expecting tears or an apology. "Don't you want to ask about her?"

I shook my head. I didn't need to ask. I already knew. I'd seen her public profile. She'd been back in the city for two weeks.

"I'm sleeping in the guest room tonight."

I started to push myself up, but his hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around my arm. "Caterina."

There was a flicker of something new in his eyes-not anger, but a sliver of uncertainty. The realization that this time was different. That his usual tactics were failing.

"She needed a position," he said, his voice tight. "There was an opening at the foundation. It's just business."

"Okay," I said, my voice flat. "It doesn't matter."

He reached for me again, his touch almost tentative this time. "Don't be like this."

I flinched away from his hand as if I'd been burned. "Don't touch me," I said, the words sharp as glass.

The shock on his face was absolute. I had never, not once, denied him.

His eyes narrowed. "Don't push me, Caterina."

I didn't answer. I turned my back on him, limped out of the living room and down the hall to the guest room. I closed the door behind me, the click of the latch sounding as final as the sealing of a tomb.

The next morning, I woke to an empty house. Alex was gone.

I took a car to the De Luca Foundation, the charity I had poured my heart and soul into for the last four years. It was the one part of my life that was truly mine.

I walked straight into the director's office. Maria, a kind woman in her sixties, looked up from her desk, her face breaking into a warm smile.

"Caterina! I wasn't expecting you."

I placed a white envelope on her desk. "Maria, I'm here to tender my resignation."

Her smile vanished. "What? Why? Is everything alright?" She looked genuinely shocked. "But... the Waterfront Revival Project. It's your baby."

"I know," I said softly. "But it's time for me to move on."

Maria looked utterly confused. "I don't understand. Alex reassigned your lead role on the project yesterday. I thought you knew."

The floor seemed to drop out from under me. My project. The one I had conceived, pitched, and fought for. He had taken it from me.

My voice was barely a whisper. "Who did he give it to?"

Maria's eyes were full of pity. "A new hire. Her name is Isabella Rossi."