The next days were unbearable. Rebecca ignored Vincenzo completely, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. She threw herself into Raya, into her routines, into everything that could distract her.

But at night, when the house was quiet and Raya finally slept, Rebecca poured herself a glass of whiskey. The liquid burned as it went down, but it dulled the storm in her chest just enough to let her think or at least, to stop the ache for a little while.

She sat in the dim kitchen light, glass in hand, staring at the empty room. She hadn’t realized how much the fight had drained her — emotionally, mentally, everything....