She didn’t answer.

“Where have you been all night?”

She stooped to pick up her key ring, still avoiding his gaze. “Since when do you care where I am?”

He grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her forcibly up against the stone threshold. She gasped.

“Guardami!” Look at me!

“Let go.”

“Who have you been with?”

She turned away from his face.

“Tell me where you have been.”

“I just went out.”

“In the city?”

“Yes.”

“With the American?”

“Leave me alone.”

“My friend saw you with him, at Ristorante Alle Due Fontanelle. Do you deny it?”

She shrugged herself free from his grip. “Why do you care? You don’t care about me.” She started to walk from him, but he grabbed her blouse and yanked her back.

“I warned you to stay away from him.”

“Like you stay away from other women? How many are there, Maurizio? Ten, twenty, or is it in the hundreds by now?”

“Shut up!” he shouted and raised his hand. She cowered slightly, lifted her hand to cover her face, but his hand never fell. His voice became more deliberate. “You want this American criminal?”

She said nothing.

“Of course you want him. Why he would want a brutta woman like you—that is the question. You can have him. Take your things and go.”

She didn’t move.

“Vai al diavolo.” Go to the devil.

He walked to the wall and flung one of her paintings from it. The frame cracked when it hit the tile of the floor. “Take all this ugliness from my house.”

“Okay, I’ll go. Where . . . where’s Manuela?”

“Loro non sono qui,” he said, and there was cruelty in his voice. They are not here.

“They? Where’s Alessio?”

“You don’t think you will take my son with you for another man. My son is not a brutto americano. You go alone.”

“You can’t have my son.”

“He is no longer your son. You have betrayed my home. Now get out.”

“I’ll divorce you and I’ll take him.”

Maurizio seemed darkly amused. “Is that what you thought? No, you will not take him. I can promise you that. You have made your decision, now get out of my house.”

“I won’t leave him.”

“You already have. And it is not your choice now. It is mine. And my friends will see to it that it remains mine. You stupid woman, you have known me for this long and you didn’t know that it has always been my decision. You should have been more obedient.”

The word scraped across her soul like fingernails.

“You can’t . . .” She did not finish her sentence. The back of Maurizio’s hand broke across her face, knocking her to the ground. She lifted a hand to her face where it stung. Her nose was bleeding. Then he was on top of her. He grabbed her by her hair and lifted her head. She was too frightened to struggle. She began crying.

“Please don’t hurt me.”