His voice was soft. Unguarded. The voice of a man who had nothing to prove and no one to perform for. I had not heard that voice directed at me since before the miscarriage. Maybe longer. Maybe ever.
I replayed the video over and over, tears streaming down my face. As dusk fell, the room around me grew dim. The estate's exterior lights clicked on automatically, casting long shadows through the windows. Somewhere beyond the gate, one of the soldiers coughed. The world kept turning. The Family kept running. And I sat in the dark with my husband's betrayal playing on a loop in my hands.
Dante finally came home. I heard the car first. Then the gate. Then the front door, and the familiar sound of his shoes on the marble entryway. His voice was gentle as he lightly scolded me, "Olivia, why didn't you turn on the lights? It's so dark. What if you fall?"
He flipped the light switch, and the room lit up. I quickly covered my tear-streaked face as he knelt in front of me and took my hand.
"Why are you crying? Who made my precious wife and our little one so sad?" he asked, his voice soft as he kissed my belly.