Chapter 61
Elodie’s POV
When Dante had called me earlier, I’d assumed he was already home.
But now, listening to Liora ask where he was, I realized he hadn’t been here at all.
The hotel where the banquet was held was actually closer to the estate than my apartment. And he’d left at least thirty minutes before Johnny and I did.
Which meant he should’ve been home by now.
Unless he’d taken Sienna home first. Unless he’d stayed with her for a while. Unless he wasn’t planning on coming home at all tonight.
My stomach turned.
Then I heard footsteps in the hallway.
“Daddy!” Liora’s face lit up instantly.
Dante walked in, and even though I’d been expecting it, seeing him still felt like a knife twisting in my chest.
“Hey, baby girl,” he said, his voice soft in a way it never was with me anymore.
I started to shift Liora out of my arms to give him space, but she clung to me, not wanting to let go. She just reached out one hand toward him.
Dante leaned over to pick her up, and suddenly he was right there, so close I could smell his cologne.
But underneath it was something else.
A Perfume. It was Delicate and floral and distinctly feminine.
The same scent I’d caught on Sienna at the banquet.
My breath caught.
He’d been with her. Close enough for her perfume to cling to his clothes, to his skin.
I turned my face away sharply, putting as much distance between us as the small space allowed. I couldn’t breathe it in. Couldn’t have that smell filling my lungs, branding itself into my memory.
Dante settled Liora into his arms and placed his hand on her forehead, checking her temperature. His eyes flicked to me. “How high is it now? Has it come down p>
I repeated what the doctor had told me, keeping my voice flat. Professional. “The high fever broke, but it’s still elevated. Could spike again p>
“Okay p>
He sat down on the edge of the bed with Liora in his lap, and she immediately squirmed. “Daddy, your jacket is scratchy p>
Without thinking, Dante shrugged out of his suit jacket and held it out to me.
I took it reflexively, a muscle memory from years of being his wife, of taking care of his things and the second it was in my hands, that perfume hit me full force. Again.
Sienna’s scent, mixed with his.
Evidence of where he’d been. What he’d been doing.
I stared down at the expensive fabric in my hands, and something inside me went cold.
There was a time when holding Dante’s jacket would’ve made me happy. When I would’ve buried my face in it, breathed in his scent, held onto it like it was something precious.
But that woman was gone.
I set the jacket down on a nearby chair, careful not to let it touch me any more than it already had.
“I’m going to make Liora some porridge,” I said, my voice steady even though I felt like I was shattering inside.
Liora looked at me with those big, tired eyes. “The kind I like p>
“Of course, baby. The kind you like p>
I left the room before either of them could say anything else, walking down the hallway on legs that felt mechanical. Automatic. From the corner of my eyes, I saw Dante’s eyes flick over to the jacket I had pushed away from touching me again. Good. Let him see that.
The kitchen was empty when I got there, the staff had probably already gone to bed.
Good. I didn’t want an audience for this.
I gathered ingredients methodically, rice, chicken broth, a few vegetables. Started cooking. Stirred. Watched the pot like it was the most important thing in the world.
Because if I stopped moving, if I let myself think about what I’d just smelled, I’d fall apart.
He’d been with her tonight. After the banquet. After showing her off to everyone.
He’d taken her home, and he’d stayed.
Maybe they’d talked. Maybe they’d done more than talk.
Maybe he’d held her the way he used to hold me, back when I still believed he loved me.
My hands shook as I stirred the porridge.
I pressed my palms against the cool countertop, trying to ground myself.
This was my life now. Coming back to this house when summoned. Taking care of Liora while Dante smelled like another woman. Pretending everything was fine.
The porridge bubbled gently, and I forced myself to focus on it. To make it perfect for Liora, because she was sick and she needed me and that was all that mattered right now.
Not Dante.
Not Sienna.
Twenty minutes later, the porridge was ready. I put it in a bowl, added the toppings Liora liked, and tried to carried it back upstairs but stopped.
I stood in the kitchen for a moment longer than necessary, staring at the pot I’d just finished washing. The plate of food I had just dished out. And then dropped the meal right back, probably Liora wouldn’t have the appetite to eat now.
Then I forced myself to move. To go back upstairs.
When I reached the second floor and turned the corner, I saw him.
Dante was standing by the window at the end of the hallway, his phone pressed to his ear. The light from outside cast his profile in shadow.
“The fever’s gone down,” he said quietly. “Don’t worry about it p>
I stopped walking.
Don’t worry about it p>
He was talking to Sienna. Had to be. Who else would he be reassuring about Liora’s fever at this hour?
And why would Sienna even care? What did my daughter mean to her except another piece of the life she was stealing from me?
I felt something ugly twist in my chest.
Dante hadn’t even noticed me standing there. He was too focused on his conversation, his voice taking on that gentle tone, the one I used to think was reserved for me and Liora.
But it wasn’t. It never had been.
I turned away before he could see me and walked into Liora’s room, closing the door softly behind me.
Inside, Sabina was carefully wiping Liora’s face with a damp cloth. The IV had been removed, and Liora was sleeping now, her little face finally relaxed.
She’d sweated through her clothes, and Sabina was in the process of changing her into fresh pajamas.
When Sabina saw me, she immediately stepped back and held out the cloth. “Luna, would you like to p>
“No.” The word came out sharper than I meant it to. “You’re doing fine. Keep going p>
Sabina blinked, clearly surprised.
In the past, I would’ve taken over immediately. Would’ve insisted on being the one to take care of Liora, to change her clothes and tuck her in and sit with her until I was sure she was okay.
But now?
Now I just felt tired.
Sabina hesitated, looking at me like she wasn’t sure what to do, but eventually she went back to helping Liora into clean pajamas.
I sat down on the sofa against the wall and watched, feeling strangely detached from the whole scene.
Once Sabina finished and pulled the blanket up over Liora, she turned to me. “The doctor said the fever shouldn’t come back, Luna. She should be fine by morning p>
“That’s good,” I said quietly.
Sabina lingered for a moment, like she wanted to say something else, but then she just nodded and left the room.
I stayed where I was, sitting in the dim light, watching my daughter sleep.
She looked so small. So vulnerable. And she’d asked for me when she was sick, she’d wanted her mom.
That should’ve made me feel needed. Should’ve made me feel like I still mattered.
Instead, I just felt hollow.
Because I knew. I knew that once Liora was better, once she didn’t need me anymore, I’d go back to being invisible. Back to being the woman no one wanted around.
And Dante?
My hands clenched in my lap.