The Unwanted Wife's Spectacular Ballet Comeback

The doorman nodded at Helena as she walked into the lobby. She kept her head down, walking briskly toward the elevators. She was so close. Just a few more days, and she would be gone.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. The one Dante had given her. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen. Alex Webb, Dante's assistant.

"Mrs. Velasquez," Alex said, his tone clipped and professional. "Mr. Velasquez is inquiring as to your location."

"It's none of his business, Alex," Helena replied, stepping into the elevator.

"Ma'am, he is insisting-"

Helena ended the call and turned the phone off. A cold knot formed in her stomach. He knew. He was tracking her, probably through the car or the phone. She should have expected it.

She stepped out of the elevator on the ground floor, intending to cross the lobby to the private residential wing. But before she could take three steps, the glass doors swung open.

A black Cadillac Escalade was parked illegally at the curb, hazard lights flashing. Dante stepped out of the back seat. He was still wearing the same clothes from last night, but his jaw was shadowed with stubble, and his eyes were dark with a rage that seemed to vibrate the air around him.

He stalked toward her, his long strides eating up the marble floor. The doormen suddenly found the ceiling very interesting.

Dante stopped a foot away from her, his chest heaving. "Where is it?"

Helena didn't flinch. "Where is what?"

"The necklace." His voice was a low, dangerous rumble. "The Van Cleef. The one you sold on Madison Avenue this afternoon."

So the shop had reported it. Of course they did. The clerk must have recognized the piece and called Dante's office immediately. Or maybe... maybe Dante had a tracker on it. He was capable of that. He was capable of anything.

"I sold it," Helena said clearly.

The muscle in Dante's jaw twitched. "You sold it."

"Yes."

"You sold a piece of Velasquez jewelry. My property." He took a step closer, towering over her. "To a fence."

"It's a consignment shop, Dante. And it was a gift. Legally, it's mine."

"Nothing is yours," he spat. "Not the clothes on your back, not the air you breathe. Everything you have comes from me."

"I needed the money," Helena shot back, refusing to be intimidated. "I need it to start my life away from you."

Dante's eyes narrowed. For a second, he looked almost startled by her bluntness. Then the cold mask slammed back down. He turned his head slightly, giving a sharp nod to the two men in dark suits who had emerged from the Escalade.

Before Helena could react, they were on either side of her. One grabbed her left arm, the other her right, their grips like iron vises.

"Let me go!" Helena struggled, trying to twist out of their hold. "Dante, you can't do this!"

"You are my wife," Dante said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Until I say otherwise, you will conduct yourself as such. Get in the car."

The guards lifted her off her feet, carrying her toward the open door of the SUV. Helena kicked out, her sneaker connecting with the doorframe, but it was useless. They shoved her into the back seat, sliding in beside her to trap her in the middle.

Dante climbed in after them, slamming the door shut. The sound was like a gunshot in the confined space. The driver pulled away from the curb before the door was even closed.

Helena was wedged between the two massive guards, the smell of their aftershave and Dante's fury filling the car. She looked at Dante, who was staring straight ahead, his profile like carved stone.

She reached into her purse, her fingers closing around the cashier's check and the folded papers inside. She pulled them out, throwing the sheaf of papers onto his lap.

"I want a divorce!" she yelled, the sound raw and desperate in the quiet car. "Right now! I'm done!"

Dante looked down at the papers. The words "Marital Dissolution" were printed at the top. He picked them up, his expression unreadable.

Then, with a swift, violent motion, he tore the papers in half. Then in quarters. He let the pieces flutter to the floorboard like confetti.

He pulled out his own phone, dialing a number. He put it on speaker.

"Alex," Dante said, his eyes locked on Helena's. "Freeze all accounts associated with Helena Velasquez. Credit cards, debit cards, the trust fund allowance. Everything. Now."

"Yes, sir," Alex's voice replied instantly.

Dante ended the call and tossed his phone onto the seat. He leaned toward Helena, a cruel, triumphant smile twisting his lips.

"You want a divorce?" he whispered. "You want to start a new life? Let's see how far you get without a dime to your name. You're nothing without me, Helena. And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."