The Villainess Wants a Divorce Chapter 06
I stared at the pieces of paper scattered across the Persian rug. Like fresh snow.
“Talk about this?” I repeated, a faint edge in my voice, too quiet to catch, but it was there.
“What exactly do you want to talk about? Your completely innocent friendship with Noemi? How I’m supposed to be more gracious about all of this?”
Renato pressed on, deliberate as a lawyer making closing arguments. “Gianna, we’re still family. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Family.
The word hit something raw. Whatever tears I’d still had in me. Gone.
After everything, he still had the nerve to call himself my family. My golden retriever had more loyalty
than he did.
I pushed the door open and walked out.
He followed, falling into step beside me.
I stopped short.
“Renato. Answer one question.”
I turned to face him. “Right now, how far away are you standing from me?”
Before he could answer, I made a fist and measured the distance between us.
Three fist-widths.
“Twenty-five years. Even when you’re right next to me, there are always three fist-widths between us. You’ve never once put your arm around me.”
He frowned, clearly not following.
My gaze cut into him.
“But when the two of you sat on that rooftop looking at stars, what was the distance then? Five
centimeters? Zero?”
“When you were helping her through that stream, you had your arm around her. What was that distance?”
“I’m not talking about bodies, Renato. I’m talking about where you actually are.”
He opened his mouth, floundered, and finally managed: “That was just an accident. I had no other choice
under the circumstances…”
“An accident?” I cut him off with a cold laugh.
“Do you remember, right after we got married, when Gambino held up one of our shipments at the docks?”
He went still.
“You took your men to negotiate. And I, without telling you, went to my father. I had him apply pressure on Gambino’s side. Quietly. Because I knew you needed to prove yourself. I wanted you to have that.”
“The next morning, every crate came back intact. You walked in the door and said, ‘That’s handled. All
me.””
“You didn’t even ask how I’d spent that night.”
“Renato, I did your dirty work from the shadows for years. That wasn’t so you could stand in the light
with someone else.”
He looked cornered. His mouth moved without sound.
I didn’t let up. “You spend more time with her than you spend at home.”
“The way you look at her is happier than any expression in our wedding photos.”
Our photographer had actually pulled me aside during the shoot, worried that Renato had been pressured
into the marriage.
“That’s not-” His voice came back in a rush. “I was nervous. During the photos. That’s all.”
There was something in his eyes I didn’t have a word for, something close to panic.
Renato Gatti didn’t panic. He never had.
I shook my head. I was tired of examining it.
“You’ve fallen for her,” I said simply.
“I haven’t.”
No hesitation. His voice was sharp and certain.
“This is my own heart,” he said, and his voice cracked on the last word. “I know what’s in it. I haven’t.”
I reached into my purse and dropped the copy of the divorce papers on the table.
“Renato. I’ve known you longer than anyone.”
“Every woman who ever tried to get close to you, you looked through them like they weren’t there. For years.”
“But not Noemi. The moment her name comes up, something changes in your eyes.”
“Seeing you look at her like that was the first time I understood. You never really loved me.”
I walked to the door and fired the last shot over my shoulder.
“Renato. I’m done with you.”
