---- Chapter 5 Eliza Todd POV: Jace' s eyes flicked to the greasy pizza box on my bedside table, then back to Dante. A small, humorless smile touched his lips. "Pepperoni pizza for a woman who just had a miscarriage," he said, his voice laced with disbelief. "Classy, Williams. Real classy." Dante' s jaw tightened, a muscle throbbing in his cheek. He looked like he wanted to lunge across the bed. "| was just about to go get her something else," he growled, his voice low and threatening. "Don't bother," Jace said, not backing down. "I've got it covered. Maybe you should go back to your party. I'm sure your campaign manager is missing you." The direct hit landed. Dante' s face contorted with rage. "Who the hell do you think you are?" he snarled. "This is my wife. You need to stay the hell away from her." | almost laughed. The hypocrisy was breathtaking. "Are you talking to Jace or to yourself?" | asked, my voice ---- dripping with ice. "Because last | checked, you're the one who's been spending every waking moment with another woman. A woman you helped get pregnant through IVF while your own wife was struggling." Jace' s head whipped around to look at Dante, his eyes wide with shock and disgust. Dante' s face was a mottled canvas of red and white. He didn't deny it. He couldn't. He just stood there, seething in silence, his fists clenched at his sides. Surprisingly, he didn't storm out. He stayed. He sat in the uncomfortable visitor's chair and glared at Jace until he finally, reluctantly, left for the night. Then Dante went home and, according to the text he sent me, cooked. The next morning, Kamala showed up. She swept into my hospital room with a bouquet of funereal lilies and a bag of takeout from Dante's favorite barbecue joint. "| thought you might be hungry," she said, her voice oozing fake sympathy. She placed the containers on my tray table. Pulled pork, coleslaw, baked beans. All the things Dante loved. All the things that made me nauseous even on a good day. Dante, who had just arrived himself, looked mortified. "Kamala, what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice strained. ---- "l came to see Eliza, of course," she said, batting her eyelashes. She turned to me. "I was so worried. | know we've had our differences, but-" "Get out," | said, my voice flat. Dante immediately stepped between us. "Kamala, she needs to rest. This isn't a good time." He took the bag of food off my tray. "And this isn't what she can eat right now." He then produced a small, slightly squashed-looking sandwich from his briefcase. "| made you this," he said, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "It's just turkey and avocado. Like you like." Kamala stared at the pathetic-looking sandwich, then at Dante, her painted-on smile faltering. "You... you cooked for her?" | almost felt a flicker of pity for her. She had played her game so perfectly, positioning herself as his intellectual equal, his partner in ambition, while | was relegated to the role of the needy, emotional wife. But now, with the foundation of our marriage crumbling, Dante was suddenly, clumsily, trying to play the part of a husband, and it was throwing her completely off balance. "Both of you, get out," | said again, my voice stronger this time. "I'm tired of this sick little performance. Go be together. Go raise your baby. Just leave me the hell alone." ---- "Eliza, that's not fair," Kamala started, her eyes welling up with crocodile tears. "Dante and | are just colleagues. | don't know why you insist on twisting our professional relationship into something sordid." | waited for Dante to jump to her defense, to parrot the same lines he always did. She's just being sensitive, Kamala. You know how she gets. But he didn't. He just sighed, a deep, weary sound. He took Kamala by the arm. "Let's go. She needs to be alone." Kamala looked at him, utterly stunned. "But, Dante..." "She just lost our baby, Kamala," he said, his voice rough. "Give her some space." He practically dragged her out of the room. | listened to her muffled protests fade down the hallway. Slowly, | unwrapped the sandwich. It was lopsided and the bread was a little soggy, but it was turkey and avocado. He had remembered. He came back a few minutes later, his face drawn and tired. He saw the empty wrapper on my plate. A small, relieved smile touched his lips. "I'll make you another one tomorrow," he promised. | didn't answer. | just turned my face to the wall. ---- A week later, | was discharged. The first thing | did when | got home was place a crisp, notarized document on the coffee table in front of him "This is a divorce agreement," | said. "Our assets are to be split fifty-fifty. That includes the seed money | invested in your first company, adjusted for inflation." | looked him dead in the eye. 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