The Substitute Wife Escapes Her Gilded Cage

Liv POV

The sky was a bruised purple, heavy with rain that hadn't yet fallen. We stood gathered around the marble monolith of the D’Angelo family crypt, a tableau of grief that felt as staged as a play.

Izzy stood next to Marcus. They were dressed in matching black coats, their shoulders brushing every time the wind gusted. I stood three feet away, shivering in a dress that offered no warmth, clutching a bouquet of white lilies Marcus had shoved into my hands at the last minute.

"Why is she here?" Izzy whispered to Marcus, not bothering to lower her voice enough. "She didn't even know Nonna."

Marcus didn't look at me. "She’s my wife, Izzy. It looks better for the associates if she pays her respects."

*It looks better.* That was my function. Aesthetic compliance.

I stared at the gravestone, feeling a profound sense of kinship with the corpse beneath us. We were both cold, we were both silent, and we were both trapped under the weight of the D’Angelo name.

After the service, the sky finally broke open. Rain lashed down in sheets, turning the perfectly manicured grass into mud.

"We need to eat," Marcus announced, holding an umbrella over Izzy.

He didn't have one for me.

I walked behind them to the waiting black SUVs, water soaking through my clothes, chilling me to the bone.

We went to an upscale Italian restaurant, the kind where the waiters wear tuxedos and the silence is expensive.

Marcus sat next to Izzy. I sat across from them. It felt like I was the third wheel on a date.

He picked up the menu. Without glancing at it, he handed it to Izzy.

"Order for us," he said softly. "You know what I like."

Izzy smiled, that sharp, predatory curve of her lips. She ordered wine. She ordered appetizers. She didn't ask me what I wanted.

"Oh, Liv," she said suddenly, her eyes dropping to my stomach. "You’ve put on a little weight, haven't you?"

My hand went instinctively to my abdomen. I was barely showing, but she noticed. She noticed everything that might threaten her territory.

"Just stress eating," I lied.

Marcus frowned. "Don't get fat, Liv. It’s unbecoming."

He turned back to Izzy, engaging in a conversation about people I didn't know, laughing at jokes I didn't understand.

The waiter arrived with a steaming tureen of soup. It was placed on a rolling cart next to our table.

Then, it happened.

A busboy, rushing to clear a nearby table, clipped the edge of the cart.

The heavy silver tureen wobbled.

"Watch out!" Marcus shouted.

He didn't reach across the table. He didn't look at me.

He threw his arm out, grabbing Izzy and pulling her violently toward him, shielding her body with his own.

The tureen tipped.

A wave of scalding minestrone soup cascaded off the edge of the table.

Directly onto my lap.

The scream ripped out of my throat before I could stop it. It was a sound of pure, animalistic agony. The heat seared through my thin dress, blistering my skin instantly.

I scrambled back, falling out of my chair, clawing at my burning thighs.

"Liv!" someone shouted.

It wasn't Marcus.

I looked up through a haze of tears. Marcus was holding Izzy’s face, scanning her frantically.

"Did it touch you? Are you hurt?" he demanded, his voice laced with panic.

"I’m fine, Marcus, look at Liv!" Izzy pointed at me, her eyes wide with genuine shock.

Marcus turned his head. He looked at me writhing on the floor, my skin red and peeling. His expression wasn't horror. It was annoyance.

"Call an ambulance," he barked at the waiter.

He didn't come to me. He didn't hold my hand. He stood up, helping Izzy to her feet, checking her coat for specks of broth.

I lay on the expensive carpet, the smell of soup and burnt flesh filling my nose.

I closed my eyes as the darkness crept in at the edges of my vision.

I heard them arguing as consciousness slipped away.

"You should have helped her, Marcus!" Izzy hissed.

I heard his reply, clear as a bell, the last thing I would hear before the blackness took me.

"In my hierarchy of pain, Isabella, a scratch on you is a tragedy. Her death is just an inconvenience."

The tether snapped.

I let go.