Page 21 of The Sicilian Billionaire's Disposable Wife

"What do you want us to do about your sister?"

Afterward, Dario gave instructions to Bonnie, and when Bonnie walked into the bedroom feed, Kendra watched her twin's face change in real time.

The cheerful woman who ate too much pasta and wanted to scout the library was gone. In her place was the Bonnie from the car, the one with the closed-door face, and Thelma—Thelma who was never rattled, Thelma who had smiled from Porter's bed like she owned it—actually stumbled getting out of the sheets.

It was Kendra's first time seeing her twin clumsy.

Thelma's face lost all its color when Bonnie pulled up the footage on a tablet and held it in front of her. Every second. The lobby. The breaker. The cameras. The nightgown. All of it, timestamped and recorded, playing back at her like a mirrorthat showed what you actually looked like instead of what you wanted to see.

Bonnie handed Thelma a contract. Dario's legal team had drafted it. (He apparently had one working around the clock, as a "precaution." Kendra was starting to understand that her husband's definition of "precaution" and the rest of the world's weren’t even in the same language.)

Thelma's hands shook as she signed.

In minutes, it was over. Thelma had agreed never to come within three miles of Kendra, consented to enter a private rehab program for counseling, and in return, no charges would be pressed.

Kendra watched Bonnie escort her twin to the elevator on the lobby feed. Thelma walked quickly, head down, arms wrapped around herself, and for one terrible moment Kendra felt sorry for her—and then felt stupid for feeling sorry, and then felt guilty for calling herself stupid when Dario had just called her kind, and the whole emotional tangle was so classically Kendra that she almost laughed.

Almost.

"I asked her why," Bonnie revealed when she returned, almost reluctantly, handing the signed contract to Dario. "What her reason was for doing this."

"And did she...did she answer you?"

Bonnie glanced at Dario. Dario gave a small nod.

"She said she just hated you for being you."

And there it was.

Her whole life, she had wondered what she'd done, what was wrong with her, what she could change or fix or be to make Thelma stop. And the answer was nothing. There was nothing. There had never been anything. It wasn't about what Kendra did. It was about what Kendra was. And that was a thing Thelma couldn't take, couldn't copy, couldn't try on in front of a mirror and adjust the straps.

It was, somehow, the most freeing thing anyone had ever told her.

Her husband's expression had turned grim, and she touched his arm quickly. "It's fine. I'm really okay."

And it was true.

Because maybe...

Maybe this meant it was over.

Kendra started thinking out loud.

Maybe therapy would help?

Kendra missed seeing Bonnie and Dario wince upon hearing this.

Leopards didn't change their spots overnight, yes. Kendra knew that. But the keyword wasovernight. Anything was possible given enough time. People changed. People grew. Even Thelma could—

When she turned to her companions, looking at them expectantly, Bonnie suddenly recalled having something urgent to attend to downstairs, and excused herself with a speed that was impressive even for a woman trained in six forms of hand-to-hand combat.

And then Dario...

Oh!

He kissed her, sudden and deep, and swept her up in his arms, and as he made love to her that night...

It was then she knew.