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She was pretty, in an obvious way. Her blonde hair curling at the ends unnaturally, her lips a shade of crimson, her ample bosom spilling over her tight top.
“I am looking for Antonio… I mean Mr Capizzi,” she said with a private smile, hinting at an intimate acquaintance with my husband.
An uneasiness beyond the jet leg I was feeling sent a cold tingle up my spine. “He’s not home.”
“I am from Mr Popolizio’s office, his lawyer,” she said, giving me information I didn’t ask for.
I frowned, my glance slipping beyond the woman’s shoulder to find two of Antonio’s men watching the interaction from the street. Is that how she got past them? I sighed impatiently. “Why are you here? If you are from Roberto’s office, you should meet downtown.”
“Oh….” The woman faltered at my sharp tone. “I was told to hand over this file….” She tried to shove the thin file she was holding onto me.
I took a step back, wanting nothing to do with whatever this woman wanted. At the same time, she purposefully loosened her grip on the thin file, feigning surprise. The contents of it, the few pieces of paper came loose and scattered onto the floor.
“What are you doing?” I dropped to my knees, flustered, helping the girl pick the papers up. My movements were choppy, but I wasn’t blind. An unusually large font glared back at me for what appeared to be documentation about the custody case. Before my sense gave word to my brain, I snatched the papers away from the girl, taking a closer look.
Shit.
I didn’t understand this legal jargon. It was a whole lot of black lettering, but Cora’s name sprang out together with Antonio’s and the address in Boston. It was signed a month ago.
“What is this?” I asked quietly, trying to figure out what it was saying, but the pounding in my head and trembling in my hands wouldn’t allow me to see the sense right in front of me.
“The signed custody, of course, for the baby. You must be happy that the mother signed off all her rights so quickly.”
So quickly…
“When?” I croaked.
“Oh, you see the date here….” She pointed towards the date a month ago. “We are already working on the divorce for Antonio now.” She didn’t even bother to correct herself in addressing him properly this time. “Oh!” She let her hands fly to her mouth, feigning shock. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”
But she wanted to tell me that. I was no fool. This woman turned up at my doorstep with the sole purpose of informing me. At least that was clear.
I let the woman grab the papers from me, eyeing the approaching men nervously.
“I will just bring this to his office,” she whispered, turning to leave.
“Yes. You do that,” I said, watching the woman hurry out, her sway so obvious that even David, one of the men, stopped to follow her ass before approaching me.
“Signora Capizzi?”
Yes. There was no doubt that she was behind this plan.
“Signora Capizzi?” I blinked. He meant me, of course.
“Who was that woman?”
Who was that woman? Was she really who she said she was?
“A salesgirl,” I lied easily. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I elaborated, “She was very persistent.”
I wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. I was definitely not going to inform these men about what had happened so they could tell my husband. I was going to wait calmly for him to tell me the truth, like he should. I was sure he would do that. He would not let me down. Again.
“How was your day?”
Great. I found out that my husband was not only lying but also planning for a divorce when he could have just fucking asked me.
“Good.” I watched him having his dinner, one hand holding mine, his rough thumb burning a path on my palm. “How about you?”
Tell me.
