Nine Choices, One Final Goodbye

My arranged marriage had a cruel condition. My husband, Rico, had to pass nine "loyalty tests" designed by his childhood obsession, Sofia. Nine times, he had to choose her over me, his wife.

On our anniversary, he made his final choice, leaving me sick and bleeding on the side of a highway in a storm.

He raced to her side simply because she called, claiming to be scared of the thunder. He’d done this before—abandoning my gallery opening for her nightmare, my grandmother’s funeral for her conveniently broken-down car. My entire life was a footnote in their story, a role Sofia later admitted she had hand-picked for me.

After four years of being a consolation prize, my heart was a block of ice. There was no more warmth left to give, no more hope left to crush. I was finally done.

So when Sofia summoned me to my own art gallery for a final act of humiliation, I was ready. I calmly watched as my husband, desperate to please her, signed the document she slid in front of him without a glance. He thought he was signing an investment. He had no idea it was the divorce agreement I’d slipped into the folder an hour before.

Chapter 1

Alessia POV:

On the night of our anniversary, my husband left me bleeding on the side of a highway for her. It was the ninth time he’d chosen her. It would be the last.

The rain was a solid wall against the windshield, the wipers fighting a losing battle. A sharp cramp twisted in my gut, making me press a hand against my stomach.

Beside me, Rico gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. He hadn’t said a word since we’d left the restaurant, but the tension radiating from him was a physical thing, filling the small space of the car until I could barely breathe.

Then his phone lit up the dark car, the screen casting a pale, sickly light on his face.

Sofia.

His whole body went rigid. The muscle in his jaw jumped. He snatched the phone from the console, his thumb swiping to answer before the first ring finished.

“Fia?” His voice was low, urgent. All the coldness he’d shown me for the last hour was gone, replaced by a thick, syrupy concern that made my stomach clench again, harder this time.

Her voice came through the speaker, a high, panicked whine. “Ric, I’m scared. The thunder… it’s so loud. I can’t sleep.”

“It’s okay, baby. I’m on my way.” He didn’t even hesitate. The words were automatic, a promise he’d made and kept a thousand times before.

A promise he never made to me.

He slammed on the brakes, the car skidding on the wet asphalt with a terrifying screech. We jerked to a stop on the shoulder of the empty highway, the red taillights of a passing truck bleeding through the rain-streaked windows.

“Get a cab, Ally,” he said, not looking at me. His eyes were