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“So, I’m a liar?” he screamed again. The spittle that flew from his mouth and landed in her face felt like hot lava.

Myla flinched. She wanted to keep her mouth shut because she didn’t know how to answer without upsetting him more than he already was.

“Answer me! I’m a man!” he screamed. “You think you’re just going to disrespect me and talk to me crazy. You’re the only person that has a problem with me. Nobody else has a problem with me.”

“Dante, all I said was—”

“All you said was what?” Dante interrupted. He had demanded she answer him only for him to take over the conversation when she began. He continued, “I know what you said. So, I’m just making shit up, h’uh? Just like I made up the fact that Miranda was helping you fuck somebody in your office. Then you wonder why I can’t trust you. All you do is lie and make shit up!”

“I didn’t make anything up! The only person making shit up is you! I wasn’t lying or cheating!” Myla screamed with the last bit of energy as she pounded her fist against the sides of her head. It seemed like Dante lacked comprehension skills. She was frustrated and agitated from talking in circles.

The truth is his comprehension skills worked extremely well. His goal was to lead her far away from the original topic of her not feeling well, then guilt her for everything to get what he wanted. So far, it was working.

Dante looked at her falling apart and frowned at her in disgust.

“Look at how you’re acting. You would rather stand firm on a lie and act childish than tell the truth,” Dante taunted.

Myla had had enough.

“You know what, you’re right. I did everything you said I did,” Myla caved and apologized for something she hadn’t done. She gave a false confession, not because she was guilty but because she wanted the torturous interrogation to stop. The verbal attacks were just too much. Peace, even if it was short-lived, was all she wanted. If she had to admit to a lie for him to leave and allow her a moment of peace, she would admit to everything she had never done.

She was exhausted; she wanted to go to sleep. Even with her stomach doing somersaults and the raging lunatic demanding false truths, she could feel the weight of her eyelids being pulled down.

“You always pull me out of character with your lies. See how you make me act? These unaccredited schools give anyone PhD’s. Because God knows your brain is as empty as The Mary Celeste,” Dante spat coldly as if the universities she attended were the equivalent to ICDC College.

Myla burst into tears because sadly, she agreed. She had graduated top of her class, yet she couldn’t seem to figure out what was wrong with Dante.

Dante smirked. He had more venom on his tongue, but before he could throw another insult, his attention shifted to his ringing phone.

“Mr. Vincenzo, are you ready to make a deal?” Dante said into the phone with a light chuckle.

Myla looked up through red-rimmed eyes in complete confusion. Gone was the anger and rage that had reduced her to nothing. It had been replaced with something charismatic and light.

What the fuck? she thought as she stared at the man who had completely transformed.

What she was witnessing made her shed more tears. What made him switch on her the way that he had? In the beginning of their relationship, smiles, laughs, and tenderness were what she got from Dante.

She prayed for those days to return. But it seemed like she was just a target for him to unleash his anger on. Myla’s body stiffened when she heard him end the conversation. She looked up, and he was glaring at her. The smile that was just on his face as he conversed was completely gone. It seemed as though his mask only slipped with her.

“You need to get up and get dressed. This is the only way I’ll forgive you for all the lies you’ve told. You owe me this much,” Dante said dryly before walking out of the room.

23

Myla stared at the paper that held Sunny’s number, debating whether she should call. She had never been the type to ask any woman, aside from Miranda, for advice, and certainly not for help regarding a man. As if Miranda could hear her thoughts, Myla’s phone rang. The picture that she and Miranda took when they were fourteen years old showed vividly on her screen.

“I’ll call you back, Mimi,” Myla lied as her eyes began to water. She was too embarrassed to speak to her. Miranda had tried everything she could to warn her about Dante, but she hadn’t listened. The thought of hearing, ‘I told you so,’ made her keep her distance.

I need to stop lying to myself, Myla thought as she continued to look at the phone’s screen. Miranda had never thrown anything in her face in all the years that they’d been friends, and she knew she wouldn’t start now.

Myla felt like she should’ve known better. As Dante said, she was a doctor. Yet she had clearly gotten this relationship wrong. She was a psychologist; she was trained to recognize toxic traits and behaviors. She should’ve spotted the red flags that were clearly waving in her face. But she didn’t. She had to admit that what she was going through was her fault. Whether it was her fault or not, Myla needed to speak with someone who had history with Dante

Embarrassment twisted her stomach in knots, but without giving it any further thought, Myla dialed the number quickly. She knew if she hesitated, she would talk herself out of doing it.

The sound of the ringing phone rivaled nails on a chalkboard. She hated this. This was something she never expected to do. She felt like she was losing her mind. With Dante, it had become hard to decipher fact from fiction.

“Hello?”

The sound of the mature voice answering the call surprised Myla. She wasn’t expecting Sunny to sound formal. When she spoke to her in the restaurant and at the hospital, Sunny sounded like a typical around-the-way girl.