Page 2 of Reborn to Love You

“Such as?”

“Does Niccolò de Vindice have a girlfriend?”

“Nope.”

Leah, Nellie, and the boys were the ones who answered simultaneously, which had Niccolò’s expression turn glacial while Payton looked confused.

“How do you guys sound so sure?” Payton looked at their boss. “Why does it seem like I’m the only one who doesn’t know you’re dating? I should be the one—”

“Don’t let them fool you,” the billionaire interrupted her coolly. “They know nothing at all.”

Nellie felt so proud of herself for not giving in to a snicker. Because contrary to what their CEO was saying, it was Payton, not Nellie and the others, who knew nothing at all.

“And more importantly, my private life is my business.”

“Well, about that—” Payton’s expression turned rueful. “All those indirectly relevant keywords I mentioned have something to do with your personal life. The second one is actually quite similar: Is Niccolò de Vindice married?”

Obviously not, Nellie thought, but you are, and there lies the problem.

Because right then, Payton’s phone had just buzzed against the table, and flashing on its screen was her husband’s photo.

“You can take that,” Niccolò said.

“No, it’s fine—” Payton grabbed her phone and dropped it into the pocket of her blazer. “Sorry about that. Shall we continue?”

“Yes, let’s.” Nellie couldn’t speak quickly enough. All of them were aware of their boss’s unrequited feelings for Payton. But it would always be the elephant in the room and would stay that way, too, since they also knew it was a line no one should ever cross.

Eric Cheyney would never be on anyone’s list of favorite people in this office, but he was still Payton’s husband, for better or for worse.

And unfortunately, when Payton got home that evening, none of them would know until it was too late—it was for the worst.

"DRINK IT, SWEETHEART."

They had been married for four years. Four. That wasn’t exactly an entire lifetime, sure, but it should’ve been long enough for him to know that she didn’t drink. But here he was, forcing wine down her throat. She knew it was his most expensive wine, but she had never liked the taste of alcohol, and he had always known that.

“There you go.” Eric’s tone was satisfied as he continued making her drink against her will. Liquid had begun to dribble past her lips, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

Payton wanted to stop him, but she couldn’t even lift her hand. His arm was deceptively warm behind her shoulders. Even with her thoughts hazy, she knew it wasn’t about her husband comforting her. It was to keep her in place as he made her drink from his wine glass.

“Good girl.”

The room was starting to blur as well. She watched him straighten. He was like a ghost now, but even so. When he walked to the kitchen island, and she saw a sheet of paper in his hand—

That was her stationery. The one she used to write letters to her friends and post them, the old school way.

“I’m sorry.”

At first, Payton thought he was apologizing to her—

“I just can’t go on anymore. There’s this darkness inside of me that I can’t escape from.”

Eric looked at her with a smile. “It sounds like you, doesn’t it? I used your ChatGPT account, got it to write a letter. Fictional, of course. I told him you wanted to be an author.”

Tears started rolling silently down her cheeks. She wanted to run away. She wanted to ask him why. But she still couldn’t move.

He walked back to her, and her tears rolled faster when she heard him actually start to whistle. How could this be the same man she had fallen in love with, the same man who had promised to love and cherish her, for better or for worse, till death do them part?

“Aww, don’t cry, sweetheart.”