Chapter 1

On the day Dante Moretti proposed to me, he promised he would give me a real home.

I found out the truth on the second day after moving into the brownstone in Brooklyn.

Upstairs lived Clara Bellini, the woman he had grown up with.

Downstairs lived Vivian Hart, his first love.

Across the street lived Grace Malloy, the private secretary who had been with him for seven years.

All four properties had been bought by Dante with Moretti family money.

I went to the house steward and asked to check the resident records. The old steward looked at me hesitantly.

"Mrs. Moretti, you don't know about the private group?"

He handed me his phone.

The group was called: [The Moretti Family House].

Inside were Dante's men, our mutual friends, and the staff in charge of security and the brownstone.

Everyone was in it except me.

Clara was urging the steward to fix her fireplace.

Vivian was asking Dante which floor he would be having dinner on tonight.

Grace sent a photo.

In the photo, Dante was asleep on her leather sofa, covered with the wool blanket I had knitted for him by hand.

And last night, when I had just moved into the main house, Clara had deliberately reminded everyone in the group:

[The legal wife arrived today. Everyone behave for the next few days.]

A row of laughing faces followed.

One of Dante's men opened a betting pool.

[Taking bets. How long before she finds out?]

Someone bet three months.

Someone bet six.

In the end, Dante himself replied:

[Don't overestimate her. One key to the main house made her happy enough. Even if she finds out, it won't matter.]

I stared at that sentence for a long time.

So what he had given me was not a home.

It was humiliation.

I did not make a scene.

I did not confront him.

I only sent my lawyer a message.

"Draft a divorce agreement for me. The sooner, the better."

Then I booked a flight to Atlantic City.

New York had no home for me.

And it never would.

...

On the way to the airport, my lawyer messaged me.

[The divorce agreement can be ready tonight. Send me the major assets first.]

I took out the folder I had picked up from Dante's study.

Inside were four property deeds.

The third floor was under Clara's name. The first floor belonged to Vivian. The apartment across the street belonged to Grace.

Only the "marital home" I had moved into last night was still under Dante Moretti's name.

All four properties had been signed over on the day he proposed to me.

That night, he had told me he would never let me be without a home again.

My phone suddenly rang.

It was Dante.

"Where did you go? Why is no one at the main house?"

I asked, "Aren't you going to explain that Moretti Family House group to me?"

"You know?"

He was silent for a moment, then said, "They've been with me for so many years. They don't have a title, so they deserve some security."

"You are my wife. What's the difference between my house and yours?"

I tightened my grip on the deeds.

"So because they don't have a title, they all get houses of their own?"

He sounded impatient.

"It's just property. If you like it so much, I'll transfer one to your name later."

"No need."

I looked out the window as the streets of Brooklyn grew farther away.

"Dante, let's get divorced."

The other end of the line went quiet.

"Over a few properties? Is it really that serious?"

I did not explain further. I hung up.

In the departure hall, I opened the group records the steward had forwarded to me.

The chat history was long.

I kept scrolling upward until a video from three years ago stopped on the screen.

The date of the video was the day Dante proposed to me.

In the video, Clara, Vivian, and Grace were sitting in the living room of what was now the main house.

Each of them held a new house key.

One last key lay on the walnut coffee table.

Someone laughed off camera and asked, "Who's the fourth key for?"

Dante picked it up.

"For her."

Clara laughed.

"You're really putting all four of us on the same street? What happens if we run into each other?"

Dante tossed the key back onto the table.

"She won't find out."

The room burst into laughter.

At the end of the video, Dante stood and adjusted the collar of his suit.

Someone asked where he was going.

He took a ring box out of his pocket.

"To propose."

The video ended there.

I sat in the departure hall for a long time without moving.

That night, he had come to me with that ring.

He had gone down on one knee and said he would give me a home.

But before he ever said those words, my place had already been arranged alongside three other women.

The boarding announcement sounded, and Dante sent another message.

[Go clear your head for a few days. We'll talk when you come back.]

I sent the property deeds, the group screenshots, and the video to my lawyer.

[Keep all of it as evidence.]

Then I turned off location sharing and blocked Dante.

Your family house can go on without me.