The Donna Who Vanished from the Portrait Chapter 05

The Donna Who Vanished from the Portrait Chapter 05

I didn’t head for the entrance. I went straight back to the west wing.

I signed my name on the final page of the divorce agreement, laid the master key on top of the documents, gathered my mother’s keepsakes along with a few of my own old belongings, and slipped out through the

side service door.

Half an hour later, the white silk veil fell away from the painting, and thunderous applause echoed through

the Moretti estate.

Adrian handed Sophie off to a maid before he came looking for me.

The west wing stood empty.

Every piece of jewelry, formal gown, and anniversary gift he had ever given me sat neatly where I had left them. Even the photographs I had cherished for ten years were turned face-down and stacked in neat piles

against the wall.

My cell phone rested on the pillow, open to our old message thread.

His last text, sent three days before: [Stop throwing tantrums. I’ll be home soon.]

Beneath the phone lay the signed divorce papers and the master key.

Adrian flipped to the final page. When he saw my signature, his face drained of color.

He reached automatically into his suit jacket pocket. The wedding ring was still there.

I had been weighing the choice to leave ever since I first took that ring off my finger.

But only now, when he had let go of me without a second thought for my sake, did I know for certain: he would always choose someone else over me.

His phone rang, an unfamiliar number.

He answered. A calm male voice came over the line. “Don Moretti, this is legal counsel retained by Ms.

Margaret.”

Adrian’s knuckles whitened around the stack of papers. “Put her on the phone.”

“Ms. Margaret hasn’t authorized me to discuss her personal affairs.”

The lawyer paused. “I’m instructed to confirm only one thing. Don Moretti, when do you intend to sign the

divorce agreement?”

At breakfast the next morning, the servants set a place across from Adrian, just as they always had.

Nonna shot the servant a sharp look. “Remove that setting.”

Adrian pressed his palm flat down against the table mat. “Who told you to take it away? She will be back for

meals.”

Elena stood in the dining doorway holding Sophie. “Adrian, perhaps I ought to take Sophie and leave. Margaret will never return as long as we are here.”

“She didn’t leave because of you,” Adrian replied far too quickly. “She has acted like this before. She’ll come

back once she’s had her fill of this little rebellion.”

Two days passed. No lights came on in the west wing.

On the third day, the old master’s apprentice arrived to collect leftover art supplies. That was when Adrian learned the painter had already traveled back to Ravenna the night of the gala.

Adrian drove out to find him that same day.

I was in the artist’s workshop, steadying a ladder while Matteo Rossi, the old master’s grandson, hung a

finished canvas.

Matteo stood high up on the rungs, my hands braced near his feet.

Adrian’s gaze turned ice-cold. “Take your hands off that ladder.”

Every person in the room turned to stare at him.

I stepped away from the ladder. “Did you bring the documents?”

“We haven’t seen each other for days, and you won’t even say my name?”

He threw a folder down onto the worktable. Inside was a draft for a brand-new family portrait: I stood on his right side. Elena and Sophie were pushed far back into the background.

“Your rightful place is yours now.”

“That position was mine to begin with.”

Adrian let out a cold, bitter laugh. “In the Moretti family, rank is mine to bestow.”

His tone softened. “The old painter refused to paint four figures. I’ve hired another artist. The old traditions are being set aside, starting tomorrow. Elena and Sophie have been moved over to the east wing. Come

home with me.”

“You drove all the way to Ravenna just to tell me you’re willing to move me a few inches closer on a canvas?”

“I’m conceding defeat.” He stepped toward me. “Don’t mistake my coming here for weakness.”

Matteo climbed down from the ladder and held out his coat toward me. “It’s turning cold. Professor wants

you to head back soon.”

Adrian intercepted the coat before it reached my hands. “She has a husband. She doesn’t need your

concern.”

I took the coat straight out of his grasp. “Thank you.”

Adrian’s expression darkened instantly. “Are you using him to get back at me?”

“I’ve neither the time nor energy for games like that. Besides, you don’t matter nearly as much to me

anymore.”

He grabbed my wrist, his voice dropping low. “Margaret, come home. Behind closed doors you can punish me however you wish. Don’t make a spectacle of our marriage.”

His thumb stroked slowly over the inside of my wrist.

“Did you bring the ring?”

Relief softened Adrian’s features. He pulled it out of his pocket at once. “I knew you couldn’t bear to let it go.”

I accepted the ring.

Before he could allow himself even a small smile, I dropped the diamond band right back into his jacket

pocket.

“You’ve always been so eager to decide for me. You can keep holding onto the ring for me.”

His smile froze completely. “I haven’t signed those divorce papers. Until the divorce is finalized, you are still my wife. That four-person portrait is still waiting for you.”

I pushed his hands away and pulled open the workshop door. “Go. Don’t block my doorway.”

Rain began to pour down. Adrian stood out under the building’s overhang and refused to leave.

He was convinced that watching him stand there drenched, I would do what I always had done in the past- bring him an umbrella, fetch medicine, and soften enough to let him back inside.

When the workshop lights went out for the night, the door stayed firmly shut.