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Chapter 20
Back at Giovanna’s apartment, Cassie poured out the entire story, her voice occasionally faltering as she described her marriage to Callum.
The evening sunset filtered through the windows, bathing the room in amber light as Giovanna listened without interruption, her weathered face registering shock, anger, and finally profound compassion. When Cassie finished–exhausted from reliving it all–the older woman’s eyes brimmed with maternal protectiveness.
“Oh, cara mia,” she whispered, rising from her chair to envelop Cassie in a fierce embrace. Her solid arms wrapped around Cassie’s shoulders as she patted her back rhythmically. “It’s over now. That chapter is finished.”
Cassie had been fighting tears since Callum’s appearance, desperately maintaining the composure she’d worked so hard to rebuild. But something about Giovanna’s unconditional warmth–so different from the calculated affection she’d grown accustomed to–cracked her carefully constructed façade.
The first tear escaped against her will, then another, until suddenly she was sobbing into Giovanna’s shoulder. The panic, rage, and grief that had been building since seeing Callum erupted without warning, her body shaking with the force of emotions she’d tried so hard to suppress.
Giovanna simply held her tighter, rocking slightly, murmuring Italian endearments that Cassie couldn’t translate but instinctively understood.
How could she not feel devastated? For three years, she’d built her entire existence around loving Callum Reid. They’d shared countless intimate moments–her teaching him to ice skate in Central Park, his surprising her with breakfast in bed on random Tuesdays, their quiet Sunday mornings reading the paper together. Memories permanently etched into her being that ambushed her without warning.
She’d abandoned her career aspirations immediately after graduation to become his wife, enduring his family’s barely disguised disapproval. She’d approached their marriage with such naïve optimism, only to discover their entire relationship had been an elaborate theatrical production with her miscast as the lead. She’d never been more than a stand–in–even the child she’d so eagerly anticipated had merely been his twisted attempt to recreate something he’d lost.
Every “I love you” she’d treasured had been mentally redirected to Laurina. Every anniversary celebrated, every gift carefully chosen–all measured against his idealized memory of another woman.
“Why?” she choked out against Giovanna’s shoulder. “Why would he do this? Make me believe in something that
was never real?”
Giovanna had no answers, only continued comfort as the sun gradually descended, painting th
gold.
om in deepening
Eventually, her tears subsided, leaving behind a strange hollowness. Opening her swollen eyes, Cassie noticed how the sunset had transformed the room, filling every corner with a warm glow that somehow made breathing easier. The light seemed to illuminate even the darkest recesses of her pain, gradually diminishing its power over her.
The next morning, Cassie arrived at work to find Callum already waiting at the vineyard entrance. He’d specifically
Lim Mr Own Life
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requested her as his guide, and company policy prevented her from refusing a potential buyer.
“Fine,” she told her manager through gritted teeth. “One hour.”
Maintaining clinical professionalism, she led him through the estate, explaining fermentation techniques and aging processes in the detached tone she’d use with any tourist.
Callum studied her with undisguised fascination as she discussed soil composition and its effect on flavor profiles. “When did you learn all this?” he asked, genuine amazement in his voice. “I had no idea you knew so much about wine.”
“My degree is in viticulture and enology,” Cassie replied flatly, as if explaining something obvious to a particularly slow stranger.
Something flashed across his face–pain? shame?-before he recovered. “You never told me that.”
“You never asked.”
The simple truth hung between them. After three years together, he hadn’t even known what she’d studied in college. The realization seemed to physically deflate him, his shoulders sagging under the weight of this fundamental oversight.
When her shift ended, Cassie handed off to a colleague only to find Callum waiting by the main entrance, his expression a carefully constructed blend of contrition and determination.
Before she could slip away, he intercepted her path. “Have dinner with me,” he said, more command than question. “Just one meal to talk things through. I’ve come five thousand miles–surely you can spare one hour.”
Cassie stepped backward, creating deliberate distance. “I already have plans.” Her tone left no room for negotiation.
A flash of the old Callum–entitled, accustomed to getting his way–appeared as he reached for her arm anyway. “Cancel them,” he insisted, his desperation making him reckless. “This is important.”
As she contemplated how to extricate herself without causing a scene, she spotted Martina and Fabio approaching from the main house.
Instinctively, her eyes sought Fabio’s, a silent plea for intervention.
“Cassie!” Martina called cheerfully, waving as if nothing were amiss.
Callum continued, oblivious to their arrival, his grip tightening slightly. “Please–just one dinner. You owe me that much at least.”
“She owes you nothing,” came Martina’s crisp interruption as she inserted herself between them, pulling Cassie protectively behind her.
Simultaneously, Fabio positioned his tall frame directly in Callum’s path, his usually warm expression replaced with glacial assessment. Dressed in a tailored suit for an earlier business meeting, he cut an imposing figure–at least three inches taller than Callum and considerably broader across the shoulders.
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American men such disrespect?” Fabio asked, his accent thickening with displeasure. “When a woman says no, a gentleman accepts and walks away.”
Callum straightened, visibly intimidated but unwilling to retreat. “This is between me and my wife. It’s not your
concern.”
Fabio glanced back at Cassie, noting her subtle head shake. Something darkened in his eyes as he returned his attention to Callum, placing one large hand firmly on the American’s shoulder. His smile never reached his eyes.
“Ex–wife, correct?” The challenge in his tone was unmistakable.
“Perhaps you should recognize your current… position. Cassie clearly doesn’t wish to see you. Continuing to impose yourself is both embarrassing and,” he paused, deliberately choosing his next word, “pathetic.”
The cutting remark landed with precision, leaving Callum pale with a mixture of anger and humiliation.
He called Cassie’s name with increasing desperation, but she was already walking away with Martina, deliberately not looking back.
Martina leaned close to Cassie’s ear as they walked toward the parking area. “Let Fabio handle this. My brother has wanted to play the hero since spotting you two from the office window.”
Cassie hesitated, tempted to intervene despite everything. “I should probably-”
“Trust me,” Martina interrupted with a conspiratorial smile, “if Fabio can’t handle your ex–husband, he doesn’t deserve the chance to become your future boyfriend anyway.”
Despite everything, Cassie found herself laughing at Martina’s brazen matchmaking.
The sound surprised her–genuine and unburdened, temporarily dispersing the dark cloud that had followed her since Callum’s appearance.
Behind them, Fabio’s voice carried faintly on the evening breeze, saying something about “respect” and “boundaries” in a tone that brooked no argument.
Ch To Doclaim My Own Life
