Chapter 3

I left the apartment the next morning with one suitcase, my personal tools, and the portfolio I'd owned before joining Rinaldi House.

The company files remained in Matteo's study. Bianca's wedding sketches remained on the dining table beneath my atelier key.

Matteo had sent six messages before sunrise.

The first said we needed to talk.

The last asked where I'd stored the final settings for the anniversary collection.

None asked where I planned to sleep.

At noon, I signed the divorce petition.

"Your husband knows you intend to file?" my attorney asked.

"He watched me call you."

"Knowing you're leaving and holding filed papers are different things."

"Then it's time he held them."

She filed the petition that afternoon and arranged formal service. I took a copy with me when I left.

That evening, I arrived at the De Luca charity auction carrying a velvet jewelry case. The legal folder rested inside my tote.

Gabriel met me in the private gallery.

He looked at the jewelry case instead of asking about my marriage or the headlines. "You brought a piece."

"One I made before Rinaldi House."

I opened the case.

Yellow diamonds surrounded a dark blue sapphire. I'd shaped every setting myself during the year before I married Matteo.

Gabriel studied it beneath the gallery lights. "What do you call it?"

"After Midnight."

He handed the information card to his curator. ELENA MORETTI appeared above the title.

For five years, my designs had been introduced as part of the Rinaldi tradition. My name had disappeared beneath the company logo, even when every line began with my hand.

Gabriel placed the card beside the necklace. "The designer belongs next to her work."

An event coordinator called him toward the stage. Before he left, he removed a black envelope from his jacket. My name was written across the front in silver ink.

"This was returned to my office several years ago," he said. "I thought you'd rejected what was inside."

A courier receipt was clipped to the back. Matteo's signature filled the delivery box.

"He received this?"

"At the address listed on your portfolio."

"What did you send me?"

The coordinator called Gabriel again.

"An opportunity," he said. "Open it when you're ready."

I slipped the envelope into my tote beside the divorce petition.

The gallery filled with buyers and collectors. When my necklace came up for auction, Gabriel introduced me only as its designer.

The bidding rose quickly. A woman in the front row asked whether I accepted private commissions.

"I do now."

After she won the necklace, she handed me her card. "I don't want a Rinaldi piece. I want an Elena Moretti piece. Call me."

A client wanted my work without needing Matteo's name above it. I hadn't heard that in years.

Camera flashes turned toward the entrance.

Matteo entered with Bianca on his arm. She wore my ring and smiled for the photographers. Matteo looked past them at the card beside my necklace.

ELENA MORETTI.

A longtime Rinaldi client reached me before he did. "Did you design the Rinaldi blue diamond collection?"

"I did."

Matteo stopped close enough to hear.

"Those pieces belong to Rinaldi House," he said.

"The pieces do. My name doesn't."

Bianca joined him and lifted the hand wearing my ring. "Since we're all here, we can settle my bridal designs. The fitting is still Friday."

"I won't be there."

She looked at Matteo.

He lowered his voice. "We'll discuss this at home, Elena."

"I moved out this morning."

His attention snapped back to me. "You what?"

The people nearest us went quiet.

Matteo stepped closer. "You've made your point. Come home, and we'll handle this privately."

"You proposed to Bianca in front of every camera you could find."

"This isn't the place."

"It was the place when you wanted a fiancee."

I opened my tote and removed the legal folder.

Matteo recognized the attorney's name. "Put that away."

"I told you the papers were coming."

He refused to take them, so I placed the filed petition on the display table between us.

Bianca looked down.

Her smile disappeared as she read the names at the top of the page.

"You married her?"

Matteo snatched up the petition and folded it shut. "Bianca, not here."

"You told me she was your designer."

Reporters began moving toward us. Matteo turned his body, trying to block both the papers and me from their cameras.

"Elena and I will deal with this privately," he said.

He was giving me the same order in a different room: hide the marriage, protect the company, and let him decide which parts of my life could be seen.

I stepped around him.

"Bianca."

She looked at me, one hand closed around my ring.

"Yes, Matteo married me five years ago. We were still married when he proposed to you last night."

The nearest camera swung toward my face.

Matteo caught my arm. "Elena, stop."

I pulled free.

For five years, I'd waited for him to decide when our marriage could exist in public.

I wasn't waiting anymore.

"Matteo Rinaldi is my husband," I said. "And this afternoon, I filed for divorce."