Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
I missed Charlie. I missed cuddling up with him on my lap, missed his unconditional love.
The first twelve days I spent in bed, feeling sorry for myself.
On the thirteenth day, someone knocked on the door. When I told whoever it was to go away, they answered that I had received a package.
Reluctantly, I went to the door, cringing when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I opened it and took the large white envelope, assuming it was paperwork about Lina’s guardianship. I pushed the shutters and window open to let in some fresh air and sunshine. The room smelled stale, and it seemed my sadness had permeated even the walls.
Once seated at the desk, I opened the envelope and withdrew the papers.
And stared.
I checked the return address. It was my attorney, so I’d assumed they were the papers to take over guardianship of Lina. But when I opened them, there was a second envelope inside. This one was from Raphael or his attorney. He must have sent it to my attorney who forwarded it here. This was the document discussing the annulment of our marriage.
“Unbelievable.” I flipped through the pages, shaking my head. “Didn’t waste any time, did you?”
After everything that had happened, he’d just drawn up the papers and would put things into motion. All that was needed was my signature, and he’d get a nice big payout from my grandfather.
I questioned now what had happened in that office that day. Maybe he hadn’t been lying at all in the chapel. Maybe he’d lied after hearing about the payout, knowing he could be rid of me and still get paid in a matter of weeks rather than years. And save his own house and get Moriarty off his back on top of it. Maybe he didn’t want me at all. It’s not like he was fighting for me.
I shoved the chair back and found a pen in one of the drawers.
Instead of signing the document, I drew an X through the center of it and wrote the words Fuck You at the very top in big, bold letters.
Unless I signed, he’d get nothing.
And why should this be easy for him, when it was anything but for me?
I called the front desk and scrawled Return to Sender on the envelope, handing it back to the man who’d just delivered it and telling him to send it back. I then went into the bathroom to have a shower and give myself a kick in the ass.
Why in hell was I wallowing in my pain, when he was out drawing up paperwork to be rid of me? To collect money to do just that?
Apart from my father, I’d known two other men. And they’d both betrayed me. They’d used me and then discarded me like I was a piece of trash.
Well, fuck them. I’d had enough.
I left the hotel later that morning and stepped onto a gondola that took me across the canal and spent the day exploring the beautiful old city. I’d always wanted to come here, to see it. I just never thought it’d be alone. But I forced a smile on my face and walked along with other tourists through markets and narrow streets, eating lunch in a tiny café where I ordered by pointing to a dish another diner was eating. I returned to my hotel when it was dark out with a bottle of wine I’d bought, feeling exhausted, the depression I’d been shoving to the side creeping back in as I opened my bedroom door and walked inside. I opened the window, pulled my chair up to it, and watched the water and the people below. I drank the entire bottle of wine and didn’t not even bother undressing before I collapsed on top of the sheets, oblivion seeming like a fine idea right then.
At first I thought the pounding was my head.
I’d been drunk once before, at Raphael’s house that first night.
That hangover was nothing compared to what was happening now. The sound wouldn’t stop, the throbbing wouldn’t go away.
“Sofia! Open the door!”
I rolled over onto my side, realizing I still had on my clothes and even one shoe.
“I know you’re in there. Don’t make me break it down.”
I glanced over at the door. The pounding started again, and I heard another door open and someone yell out that it was the middle of the night. I checked the time. It was almost two o’clock in the morning.
“Goddamn it.” He started banging again.
Raphael?
I sat up, clutching my head. Was I still drunk, or was this a hangover? Getting up, I unlocked the door and pulled it open to find Raphael standing outside, looking like he was about to ram his shoulder into it.
“Why are you pounding?” I asked, stepping back when he shoved his way in before closing it.