Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN IN THE RED DRESS
Three days after I left, a photograph appeared online.
Dante Caruso leaving a private restaurant with a beautiful woman in a red dress.
Her name was Bianca Morelli.
Twenty-seven.
Socialite.
Daughter of a wealthy real estate investor.
The caption read:
MAFIA BILLIONAIRE MOVES ON AFTER WIFE'S MYSTERIOUS DEPARTURE.
I stared at the picture.
Olivia sat beside me.
“Don't look at that.”
I couldn't stop.
Bianca's hand rested on Dante's arm.
He looked tired.
But he hadn't moved away.
Something inside me twisted.
I called my attorney that afternoon.
Her name was Rebecca Sloan.
She specialized in high-asset divorce cases.
I had never imagined needing someone like her.
But when she asked whether I wanted to file immediately, I hesitated.
“I need to understand my options.”
She nodded.
“That's a good place to begin.”
We discussed finances.
Property.
Personal safety.
My legal rights.
And the fact that being married to a powerful man did not mean surrendering my independence.
For the first time, I began looking at my marriage as something I was allowed to evaluate.
Not merely endure.
That evening, Dante called.
I answered.
“Elena.”
His voice sounded rough.
I closed my eyes.
“What do you want?”
“To explain.”
I looked toward the window.
“Then explain.”
A pause.
“The woman in the photograph is Bianca Morelli.”
“I know.”
“Her father owns property we're negotiating to purchase.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“Elena.”
“There's always a business explanation.”
He was silent.
I continued.
“Every dinner. Every trip. Every woman standing too close to you. Every night you didn't come home.”
His voice broke.
“I never cheated on you.”
I closed my eyes.
“Do you expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Silence.
Then Dante whispered:
“Because it's true.”
I wanted to believe him.
God help me, I did.
But trust wasn't a switch I could turn on because he sounded sincere.
“Even if you never touched another woman,” I said, “you made me feel replaceable.”
Dante said nothing.
“And that's something you can't explain away.”
I ended the call.
What I didn't know was that Bianca Morelli had deliberately arranged the photograph.
She had known exactly where the photographers would be waiting.
She had known I would see it.
May you like
And she had a reason for wanting my marriage to collapse.
A reason that had nothing to do with love.
