CHAPTER 42
“No! Absolutely not!” Amber’s voice rang out, fierce and trembling, as she shot up from the bed. She didn’t realize until too late that her torn nightgown revealed more than she was comfortable with, and in a swift, defensive motion, she hugged the fabric close to her chest. Panic flared in her wide eyes, her breathing shallow and erratic.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Luca, or why you’re saying all these things now, but… these words are three years too late!” She took a step back, her hands shaking as she pointed accusingly at him. “Do you think that—this… this so-called heart-to-heart, this confession, is suddenly going to change anything?” Her voice cracked, rising in pitch, raw and edged with frustration. “You—you were engaged to another woman until what? A few hours ago? A day?” Her tone wavered as she struggled to hold back the flood of emotions breaking through her.
Luca remained silent, his dark eyes shadowed but attentive, taking in every word, every shake of her hands. He watched her, concern softening his face as she trembled, her fury mingling with the kind of deep, unbearable hurt he knew he had caused. She was still standing, her body so taut with strain that he feared she might collapse under the weight of it.
“You were going to marry her in a month!” Her voice faltered, but she couldn’t hold back the words. “For God’s sake, Luca!” She clenched her fists, shoulders slumping as she fought the tears brimming in her eyes, her body trembling as if caught in a storm.
He could see it all—the anger, the panic, the undeniable pain she was barely holding together. His heart clenched at the sight of her, so fragile yet so fiercely defiant. He wanted to close the distance between them, to steady her trembling frame, to ease the ache in her eyes. But he knew that to reach out might only shatter what little control she had left. So, he stayed where he was, helpless but unwavering, watching her unravel.
"You claimed to love her!" Amber’s voice cracked, the rawness in it piercing. “You know what? I don’t think I believe a single word that comes out of your mouth anymore.” Her tone trembled, the vulnerability in her words laid bare as they hung in the room. They both knew her words were about more than just Carlotta.
Her gaze drifted downward as if reliving each painful memory. “When I met you, when I fell in love with you, when we made love night after night in that penthouse,” she whispered, each word laced with bitterness. “You held me, whispered promises in my ear, told me how much I meant to you. I was in your bed, in your arms, believing every lie you told me, every vow you made. And yet, not once—" Her voice caught as if the weight of it all was bearing down on her, "not once did you mention you were engaged to someone else. Not once did you hint that you were set to marry Carlotta Forentino, your high school sweetheart, in six months.”
She collapsed onto the edge of the bed, her fingers gripping her hair, pulling it away from her face as she bent forward, almost as if hiding from the shame of it all. “I should’ve seen it. The red flags were there, right in front of me. I should’ve known what kind of man you really were. A lying, cheating bastard.” She laughed, a bitter sound that echoed off the walls. “But no—I was foolish. I stayed. I stayed even when my entire world turned against me, when everyone called me a whore, a slut, your mistress. When people assumed I’d baby-trapped you.”
She lifted her head, her eyes blazing with a mix of anger and heartbreak. “Do you know why I stayed?” Her voice dropped, thick with emotion. “Not because I was carrying your child, Luca. Not because I was looking to lock you down or force you into some life you didn’t want. I stayed because I believed you. I stayed because when you told me you loved me, I believed you meant it.” Her words fell heavy, her face vulnerable yet defiant, as if daring him to deny the reality she’d been forced to carry alone.
“I do love you!” His voice was raw, pleading, but Amber’s glare only deepened.
He could see her wavering, teetering unsteadily, her anger threatening to pull her under as her strength began to falter. As she swayed forward, Luca instinctively stepped toward her, catching her just before she stumbled. But no sooner had he touched her than she recoiled, shrugging off his hands with a force that was both desperate and determined. “Don’t touch me!” she hissed. Her voice cut through the air like a blade, and Luca felt the sting of it in his chest.
It wasn’t just anger in her eyes, though; it was betrayal. She was furious that he’d even dared to say he loved her, as if the very word itself was an insult now. He understood, too, that the anger was layered, tangled. She was furious because she thought he was lying. She was furious because she wished he wasn’t. And she was furious because, more than anything, she wanted to believe him.
But how could she believe him, she thought bitterly, when the very foundation of their relationship had been built on lies? She had once trusted his words, believed his promises, taken his love as truth. Yet every truth she had clung to had eventually unraveled, leaving her stranded, questioning everything she’d once known.
Luca let out a slow, heavy sigh and took a seat in the chair across from her, maintaining some distance, knowing it was the safest choice he could make. He watched her, his own chest tightening as he saw her struggle to hold herself together, anger and heartbreak flickering across her face.
The truth was, over the last three years, Amber had taught herself that every heartbreak she’d endured with Luca had been inevitable. When she heard he’d gone back to Carlotta, she’d steeled herself, convincing herself she should have seen it coming. He’d only married her for the sake of their son, she’d told herself—he’d never truly loved her. And when news of his engagement to Carlotta reached her again, she repeated the mantra: of course, she should have known. After all, he’d been fixated on his childhood sweetheart for as long as she’d known him; she was nothing but the woman who’d crossed that line with an already-engaged man, fooling herself into thinking she could hold his heart.
Each time she thought of him, she told herself it was better this way, that his betrayals had only been signs she should have noticed sooner, warnings she’d foolishly ignored. She painted their marriage as a blunder in her judgment, convincing herself it had all been built on lies, that his proclamations of love had been nothing more than empty words to comfort a woman he didn’t plan on keeping. And in that self-made narrative, she’d found a way to cope, to soften the edges of her loneliness by telling herself it had all been a mistake.
But now, with him in front of her, professing that same love, the walls she’d built over the years started to crack, letting the flood of old pain and doubt rush back in. A new anguish rose within her. Accepting that he’d never loved her had hurt, but hearing him say that he had loved her, truly, and yet had still walked away—that was a different kind of agony, one she wasn’t sure she could bear. How could she trust his love now, knowing what it had cost her before? How could she believe in him again, knowing he had made the choice to leave her behind?