"I'm sorry, Catarina…" I whispered, my voice trembling as tears blurred my vision again. "But I can't do this anymore."
Footsteps echoed from the hallway.
Closer.
"Seraphina?" Enzo's voice called out. "Where are you? The gathering's starting. You need to play the piano for Don."
The Old Don's Christmas Eve dinner. The one night a year when the entire Montecarlo family sat at the same table and pretended to be holy. I was expected to perform, the way I was always expected to perform.
I said nothing.
Not a word.
When the door finally opened, he froze.
"Jesus, Seraphina, what happened to you?"
Blood streaked down my face. My body trembled. Tears slipped silently from my eyes.
"Ask your precious kids," I snapped, the bitterness in my voice sharp enough to cut.
"What… what do you mean?" he asked, confusion flashing across his face. His thumb drifted along the edge of his jaw, that unconscious tell he'd carried since boyhood, already preparing to deflect whatever came next.
I looked at him. Really looked at him.
And for the first time, I felt nothing.
"I want a divorce, Enzo," I whispered.