Chapter 1 - The Ring on the Table
Every woman who ever came to claim my husband heard the same offer from me: answer three questions correctly, and my place as Mrs. Moretti was hers.
For seven years, no one succeeded.
Then one afternoon, Dominic brought a woman to me himself—and even though she got every answer wrong, I slid my wedding ring across the table and said, “Congratulations. He’s yours.”
My name is Vivian Moretti.
Dominic stood behind her in a black suit, half a cigarette between his fingers.
Chicago knew him as the head of Moretti Holdings.
The people who mattered knew more.
Shipping. Clubs. Gambling. Protection. Men with guns who lowered their voices when he entered a room.
And for seven years, I had been the woman beside him.
The woman sitting across from me was Sienna Blake.
Young. Beautiful. Confident.
“You should know when to step aside,” she said. “He doesn’t love you anymore.”
I rested my chin on my hand.
Then I asked her the same three questions I had asked every woman before her.
She answered immediately.
All three answers were wrong.
My assistant stepped forward to remove her.
I raised one hand.
Then I slowly removed my platinum ring.
“Congratulations.”
I pushed it toward her.
“Starting today, you can have my place.”
Sienna blinked.
Even Dominic’s expression changed.
“I got them right?” she asked.
“No.”
“All three were wrong.”
Her smile returned.
“Then why are you leaving?”
One hand drifted deliberately toward her stomach.
“Or did you finally realize you can’t compete with me?”
That gesture was enough.
Months earlier, Dominic had told me Sienna meant nothing.
He had pulled me against him and whispered, “There will only ever be one Mrs. Moretti. You.”
“The others are entertainment.”
“I would never let one of them carry my child.”
I had believed him.
Or maybe I had simply needed to.
I stood and picked up my coat.
Dominic’s voice stopped me.
“Vivian.”
He crossed the room and caught my shoulder.
His fingers moved beneath my chin.
“The door is right there,” he said quietly. “Walking out is easy.”
His eyes hardened.
“Coming back won’t be.”
For seven years, that warning would have worked.
Because I had always come back.
After every betrayal.
Every lie.
Every woman.
Dominic never chased me.
He never needed to.
He knew I loved him enough to humiliate myself eventually.
But that afternoon, something inside me had finally gone silent.
I gently removed his hand from my face.
“I’ve thought about it.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Then explain something.”
“What?”
“She got every question wrong.”
His voice sharpened.
“So why are you still giving her your place?”
I looked at him.
For the first time in seven years, Dominic was finally asking why those questions mattered.
And for the first time, I no longer cared.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked softly.
He frowned.
I glanced toward Sienna.
“Let her baby be born as your illegitimate child?”
Dominic froze.
The surprise in his face told me everything.
Maybe she was pregnant.
Maybe she wasn’t.
I didn’t know.
I had guessed.
But apparently, my explanation was enough for him.
His shoulders relaxed.
“The lake house will be transferred to you,” he said.
“You can stay there.”
He paused.
“Sienna needs somewhere secure during the pregnancy.”
Of course.
Even my departure became something he could organize.
Then he added, almost generously, “I’ll come see you.”
I stared at him for one second.
Then I turned toward the door.
Behind me, Sienna laughed.
“Dominic, I don’t want anyone saying I only became Mrs. Moretti because I’m pregnant.”
His voice softened.
Rarely.
Tenderly.
“Then we’ll say the baby was lucky enough to have a mother worthy of the Moretti name.”
I heard her laugh again.
My hand closed around the door handle.
Cold air rushed across my face when I opened it.
For seven years, Dominic had always known I would come back.
This time, I walked out without turning around.
And he still didn’t understand that I had not given Sienna my place.
I had finally decided I didn’t want it anymore.
The black town car waiting outside looked almost exactly as it had every day for the past seven years.
But for the first time, I walked past it.
I waved at the driver and said, “Take my things to the lake house.”
He stared at me.
“Mrs. Moretti?”
“Not anymore.”
The words sounded strange.
Like they belonged to someone else.
My driver lowered his eyes.
“Where are you going?”
I smiled faintly.
“Home.”
I didn't tell him where.
Because there was a place in Chicago that Dominic Moretti didn't know I still owned.
A small brick townhouse on a quiet street near the river.
It had belonged to my grandmother.
I had bought it secretly two years before my wedding.
The property was under my maiden name.
No Moretti security cameras.
No Moretti employees.
No Dominic.
I had kept it as a private emergency exit.
I never thought I'd use it.
Until now.
When I opened the front door, dust floated through the late afternoon sunlight.
I dropped my coat over the sofa and stood in the silence.
Then I finally allowed myself to cry.
Not because Dominic had chosen another woman.
That had happened before.
I cried because I had finally understood something much worse.
He had never believed I would leave.
Not really.
He had believed my love was permanent.
That was why he stopped protecting it.
That was why he stopped apologizing.
That was why every betrayal became normal.
My phone rang.
Dominic.
I stared at the screen.
Then I turned it face down.
A second call.
Then a third.
Then a message.
Vivian, don't make this dramatic.
I laughed through my tears.
He still didn't understand.
I typed one sentence.
You don't have to worry. I'm not trying to punish you.
Then I deleted it.
Why explain something to a man who had spent seven years learning that I would forgive him?
Instead, I opened a drawer.
Inside lay a thick envelope.
Bank statements.
Property records.
Corporate documents.
Photographs.
And one folder marked in red:
MORETTI INTERNAL.
I had collected it quietly over the past year.
Not because I planned to destroy Dominic.
Because someone else had tried to destroy him.
And I had been protecting him without his knowledge.
The man who had been stealing from Moretti Holdings wasn't one of his enemies.
He was family.
Dominic's older cousin, Marco.
I knew.
Dominic didn't.
There were shell companies moving money through shipping accounts.
False invoices.
Payments to corrupt inspectors.
Missing containers.
Someone was deliberately creating evidence that looked like Dominic's operation.
If the investigation connected those accounts to him, federal agents wouldn't care that he hadn't personally approved the transactions.
They would care that his signature appeared on the paperwork.
And I knew exactly where the forged signature came from.
I had seen it on a document three nights earlier.
Sienna Blake's father had been a legal adviser to one of Marco's companies.
That was the connection I had never told Dominic.
I had hoped to uncover enough evidence before confronting him.
Now I sat alone in my grandmother's house, staring at the documents.
My marriage was over.
But Moretti Holdings was about to explode.
And for the first time, I wasn't sure whether I should save Dominic.
Because a woman could spend seven years protecting the man she loved.
But there came a moment when she had to decide whether saving him meant saving herself too.
I closed the folder.
May you like
Tomorrow, I would begin again.
And this time, Dominic Moretti would have to survive without Mrs. Moretti standing behind him.
