Page 160 of My Big, Fat, Accidental Billionaire Husband

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Dominic

The knock on my door comes at exactly 9 AM, pulling me from a haze of pain and exhaustion. I haven’t slept a minute since the home invasion. Dr. Keegan stitched me up around 5 AM, gave me painkillers I haven’t taken, and warned me to rest.

Fat fucking chance.

“Mr. Rossi?” Jake’s voice calls through the intercom. “There’s a moving crew here. They say they’re authorized to collect your wife’s belongings.”

Of course. Efficient as always, my Tatiana.

Not mine anymore.

“Let them in,” I say, my voice a rasp.

I watch from the kitchen as three men in uniforms move methodically through the guest suite. Three men, like last night. Trouble always comes in threes, doesn’t it?

They pack her clothes, her laptop, the few personal items she brought with her. With each outfit they remove, I recall where she wore it. The emerald silk gown at the gala. The navy Armani pantsuit at the investor meeting. The casual jeans she wore that Sunday when she caught me sick with fever.

One of the movers grabs her suitcase, the one she never fully unpacked because she always knew this was temporary. Always knew she’d be leaving.

I grip the kitchen counter so hard my knuckles turn white.

“Is there anything else, sir?” the head mover asks when they’ve finished.

I shake my head. They leave with pieces of her, with the tangible evidence she was ever here at all. The door closes behind them with a soft click that feels like a gunshot.

It’s done.

It’s final.

My phone buzzes. Arthur Sterling.

“What is it?” I answer, moving stiffly toward the living room. My side throbs where the bullet grazed me last night.

“Ms. Cole was here first thing this morning,” he says without preamble. “She’s signed the annulment papers. We need your signature to finalize.”

Of course she was. She couldn’t wait to be free of me.

“I’m coming in,” I tell him, and hang up.

I shower quickly, careful of my stitches, then dress in a crisp black suit with a white dress shirt. The outfit of the wealthy and powerful. I look like my usual self in the mirror, except for the haunted eyes staring back at me.

Jake meets me in the lobby downstairs, professional as always despite the events of last night. “Your car is ready, sir.”

I nod, noticing the extra security detail positioned subtly throughout the building. After last night, they’re taking no chances. Not that I care. The only thing worth protecting is gone.

The drive to Rossi Developments is silent. Ric keeps glancing at me in the rearview mirror, but knows better than to speak. When we arrive, at least there are no paparazzi. Jake would’ve made certain that security kept them well off the property today.

Eleanor greets me with a stack of messages and a concerned frown. “Mr. Rossi, you have calls from the Costa Rica development team, the PR department wants a statement about the annulment, and Mr. Sterling is waiting in your office.”

“Cancel everything,” I tell her. “Tell PR to hold off on any statements.”

“Sir?”

“Just do it, Eleanor.”

Arthur rises when I enter my office, annulment papers neatly arranged on my desk. “Dominic. I have everything ready for your signature.”

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