Alice shot Dante one last disdainful glance before turning on her heel and walking away, her back straight and unyielding.
'I won't waste another word on him,' she thought, her footsteps firm against the floor.
Dante froze where he stood.
That single look hit harder than any argument ever could. He watched Alice leave, then slowly shifted his gaze toward Victor, who was laughing softly while talking to his wife and daughter.
The warmth between them was unmistakable, almost tangible, and envy surged up Dante's chest before he could stop it.
'So this is what a family looks like,' he thought bitterly.
Outwardly, Dante always acted like a man who only cared about profit and loss, about gains and calculations.
But deep down, he craved warmth just as much as anyone else.
He wanted laughter at the table, conversations that weren't laced with tension, a home that didn't feel hollow.
Yet looking at his life now, it seemed he was never destined to have such things.
