Erasing Mrs. Moretti

"A small burn," I said, my voice ice.Dante's hand froze mid-air. His brown eyes, the ones I used to get lost in, flickered with suspicion.But I wasn’t the naive music student I was five years ago. I had learned how to hold a perfect smile at a Moretti family dinner, how to survive with grace amidst blood and betrayal."I got you a gift," I said, picking up a beautiful blue box from the sofa and sliding it toward him.The box was light. Inside was our wedding photo, cut into a thousand tiny pieces, each no bigger than a fingernail.Dante took the box, a look of what I once would have called genuine surprise on his face. "What’s the occasion? Did I forget something?" He didn't open it, instead placing it on the coffee table and reaching out to touch my face.I took a step back, my smile perfectly in place. "You really don't remember, Dante? It's our fifth wedding anniversary."His expression froze, as if he'd been slapped. I saw the flicker of panic in his eyes, the guilt of a man caug

"I want to sit in the back."On the way to the hotel, Dante looked at me, confused. "Why? You always sit up front."Because I couldn't stand to sit in the passenger seat his little whore had occupied countless times. The thought of Jenna sitting there, cooing at him, begging him to pull over so they could fuck, made me want to vomit.But I just said, "I feel like having more space."Dante thought nothing of it.As Dante led me into the hotel, his arm around my waist, other patrons stared with a mixture of envy and awe. In our world, being Mrs. Moretti was a dream for countless women.If only they knew the price.Several of the family's Capos came over to greet us.Dante kept his hand on the small of my back, poured me wine, and whispered in my ear, "This bottle is worth twenty thousand dollars, but even it can't compare to your beauty."Once, words like that would have made me blush.Now, they just made me want to laugh. In his mind, my worth was clearly less than that of a twenty-two-

Another message followed immediately. It was an ultrasound picture.A tiny gestational sac was clearly visible on the black-and-white image. In the top right corner, it read: 8 weeks.[Surprised? You know, when I told Dante the news, he was as wild as an animal.][Oh, and by the way, he really is an animal with me. Not so… boring… like he is with you. Is he always so restrained when you two do it? Hahaha, that’s because he doesn’t even want to touch you! But with me… God, I can barely handle his passion!]I leaned against the window, the world spinning around me.The child we had hoped for for five years was now growing inside his mistress.Maybe I should congratulate them.Another text arrived.[By the way, he’s taking me to Vegas tomorrow. We’re going to have a romantic little getaway. ~]I turned off my phone and faced Dr. Ricci. "Doctor, I think I need to leave now.""But your husband—""I'll tell him myself."I went to my lawyer's office. I needed a divorce agreement."Regarding t

(Dante's POV)Dante had planned to go straight home.Jenna wrapped her arms around his waist, whispering in his ear, "Don't go yet… I'm not done playing."Her fingers traced patterns on his chest, her voice seductive. "Besides, you said it yourself, she's just a boring porcelain doll. What's one more night? You can go back tomorrow."Dante hesitated for a second. It was true. Alessia would never be this forward, would never beg him to stay. In five years of marriage, she had always waited patiently, never complaining about his late nights or business trips."Fine," he said, setting down his luggage. "But just for a few hours. I have to be back in Chicago tonight."Hours later, when Dante surfaced from the haze of sex and champagne, it was already the next morning."Dammit." He glanced at his watch and shot out of bed.He frantically dialed Alessia's number to explain, but was met with a mechanical voice: "The number you have dialed is not in service…"Not in service?Alessia never turn

(Dante's POV)Dante suddenly shot up from the sofa.He would wire her money. A lot of it. Ten million dollars.Wherever she was, whatever life she wanted, she would need money. He was terrified of her suffering, and maybe… maybe the money would be enough to cool her anger. Maybe this gesture of goodwill would make her contact him.Dante expertly typed in the number for Alessia's private, secret account.A red error message flashed on the screen:[TRANSFER FAILED: TARGET ACCOUNT HAS BEEN PERMANENTLY CLOSED]Dante stared at the screen, his mind blank.He felt as if the last, fragile link between them had just been severed.His hands began to tremble, his heart hammering against his ribs. For the first time, he felt true panic—not the tension of facing a business rival, not the pressure of family matters, but a complete, desperate terror.Alessia hadn't just left. She was erasing every trace that she had ever existed.Dante suddenly remembered that Alessia used to keep a blog. Maybe, just