Alesia's POV.
"Are you not gonna say anything?!" I yelled after my husband, as we walked into the living room. I had let him be last night because of how badly hurt he was. Still trying to proceed with the fact he just gave me away for his own debt.
"Alesia please..". He was holding his head, groaning in pain like I was the one who put us in this situation.
"Please what? That you owe One hundred and sixty grand? Or you just gave me away like a commodity to a freaking mafia boss?!"
"Can you fucking stopped with the yelling? You're giving me a headache!" He snapped back. I flinched back in fear.
"How about the fucking headache you out us in?! What did you even use the money for? We were fine, we had the bakery and I was working ....". He cut me off before I could continue.
"You mean stripping for men? Every night?" He didn't even burger to hide the disgust in his voice as he stared at me. I have always known he hated it… he hated when I danced for us… for our survival but since he never said anything. I foolishly let myself believe he was just jealous. That, those nights he wouldn't touch me was because he was jealous.
"Look, I'm sorry. I don't really mean that but I'm just..". He paused, exhaling before relaxing even more on the couch. "I'm just really frustrated right now".
"What did you even use the money for?" I found myself whispering. A flicker of guilt flashed across his eyes.
"The bank…".
"Don't even think about lying to me, Antonio. I still received the bank notification about our loan, so what did you use the money for?! Are you cheating on me?" For the first time in five years, I am questioning my own husband.
I know Jericho might have said he was seeing other women to cause a misunderstanding between us but still I couldn't help but think of it. It's been two years since Antonio last touched me, two years. He can't possibly stay that long without sex.
He stared at me like I was insane for even thinking about it. "Are you mad? How can you ever say that?"
"Two years, Antonio. Two years since you touched me. Tell me how a man goes that long unless there's someone else keeping his bed warm."
His face crumpled like I'd slapped him. Good.
"Alessia…" He dragged both hands down his cheeks. "I borrowed the money because I was trying to save us. Save you."
"Save me?" I stepped closer, fists balled so tight my nails bit crescents into my palms. "From what, exactly? Feeding us? Keeping a roof over our heads while you sat on your pride?"
He flinched, but the guilt in his eyes only lasted a second before something colder slid in its place.
"You think I liked knowing my wife had to take her clothes off for strangers?" His voice dropped, venomous now. "That every night you came home smelling like other men's cologne, I had to pretend it didn't kill me?"
"You never said a word," I shot back.
"Because I was ashamed!" he roared, surging to his feet. The sudden movement made him sway; he caught the back of the couch to steady himself. "Ashamed that I couldn't give you better. Ashamed that the bakery was bleeding money and I was too much of a coward to tell you we were drowning. I didn't want you looking at me like I was… useless."
I hated how small his voice got on that last word. I hated that it almost worked. "You're not useless…" I whispered, moving closer. At least not to me, he had saved me… saved me from my family when they were about to marry me off to some seventy years old man for money.
"I am..". He cried. His eyes filled, and he let out a broken sound. "Which husband lets his wife strip for strangers every night?" He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes like he could push the tears back in. "I'm supposed to be the provider, Alessia. But look—I got us into even more debt…"
He sank back onto the couch, shoulders folding inward.
I knelt in front of him without thinking, resting my hands lightly on his knees the way I used to when the world felt too heavy for both of us.
"Tell me," I said softly. "Please. Just… tell me everything."
Antonio stared at his bruised knuckles for a long time. Then he spoke, voice low, as if the walls might hear and judge him.
"Someone came to the bakery. A man in a good suit. Said he knew me from the old neighborhood. Told me about an investment—private, no banks involved. Real estate overseas. He showed me numbers, Alessia. People putting in twenty, thirty thousand and walking away with hundreds of thousands in months."
He swallowed hard.
"I borrowed twenty thousand from Jericho first. Told myself it was safe. A week later the man came back—said the next round was closing, but if I could get to a hundred thousand, the payout would be over a million. A million." His laugh was hollow. "We'd never have to worry again. You'd never have to dance again. We could buy a house, have children, give them everything."
I felt the cold spread through my chest.
"So I borrowed more," he whispered. "Another thirty… then fifty. Every time he asked for another piece, he promised it was the last. Greed took me, Alessia. I saw the life I wanted for you and I couldn't stop reaching for it."
He finally looked at me, eyes red and pleading.
"I thought I was so close. One more payment and it would all come back to us. But then he disappeared. Phone dead. Office empty. And Jericho…" Antonio's voice broke completely. "Jericho started adding interest every day I couldn't pay."
He cupped my face gently, thumbs brushing my tears. "I hate myself for asking this of you," he whispered. "But you'll still come home to me every night. You'll still be my wife. Nothing changes that. Three months, amore. Then no one ever gets to look at you like that again."
I closed my eyes. His lips pressed soft against my forehead, lingering there.
"I'll make it up to you," he murmured into my hair. "Every day for the rest of our lives. I swear it."