PROLOGUE
The gunshot at this hour has surely prompted a neighbor to call the police. Any minute, sirens might screech through the night. Five years behind bars already, then another three-year stint—if they catch him here, they’ll bury him so deep he’ll never see daylight again. Yet he remains rooted to the floor, unable to look away from her still form. Leah Baffert. Shit, no. She was Leah Rossi, back to her maiden name. He curls his lip in disgust. She thought a piece of paper could erase him, erase them. Now she’s just a broken doll on the floor of her precious home office where she helped other women escape men like him. Blood mats her shoulder-length brunette hair, turning the chestnut strands almost black. Those defiant dark eyes now stare unseeing at the ceiling, her normally tanned skin turned unnaturally pale despite the lamp’s warm glow. He shudders, unnerved. In his cell, he’d fantasized about this moment a thousand times, sketched it in his mind during endless nights. But with Leah lying dead at his feet, the reality sinks in. He’s won, finally—but beneath it lurks something unexpected. A hollowness. He’ll never feel her lips against his again or taste her homemade pasta, his favorite meal. He won’t get the chance to make her understand that everything he did was out of love. He should feel nothing but satisfaction. After all, she tried to destroy him and almost succeeded. She’d stood in that courtroom, unflinching, testifying about the bruises, the broken bones, the terror. Making him sound like a monster when all he’d done was love her too much. Five years of his life, gone because she couldn’t accept that she belonged to him. But now she’ll never be his again. Time to go.
