Chapter 10 - The Woman Who Finally Chose Herself
I left the Moretti estate without saying another word.
Alexander followed me to the driveway.
"Claire, wait."
I turned.
"Don't."
"Your father may have been involved, but that doesn't change what happened between us."
I looked at him.
"You're right. It doesn't."
He stepped closer.
"I made mistakes."
"More than mistakes, Alexander."
"I know."
"Do you?"
He looked at the ground.
For years, I had imagined this moment.
I had imagined him apologizing, admitting he had been wrong, and promising that things would change.
But standing there, I realized something.
I no longer needed to hear it.
"Claire, I love you."
I closed my eyes briefly.
"Then you should have treated me like someone you loved."
He reached for my hand.
I stepped away.
The divorce proceedings moved quickly after the foundation investigation became public.
Margaret was removed from the foundation's board. The financial misconduct was referred to federal investigators, and the doctor who had altered Vittorio's medical report agreed to cooperate.
Sophia surrendered the Hermès watch to the authorities as part of the investigation.
She also gave a formal statement about the documents she had uncovered.
I never became her friend.
But I no longer considered her my greatest enemy.
She had been another person caught in the Moretti family's web of secrets.
My divorce from Alexander was finalized four months later.
He didn't contest my financial claims.
He didn't ask for another chance.
And for the first time in seven years, I woke up without wondering whether my husband had chosen another woman over me.
The foundation was eventually restructured under independent oversight.
I kept Vittorio's promise by restoring the programs he had cared about most.
Children's hospitals.
Scholarships.
Shelters for women escaping abusive homes.
At the opening ceremony of the first new center, I stood before a crowd of donors and journalists.
My father was there.
We had spoken privately several times, but he still hadn't explained the suspicious transfers.
He approached me after the ceremony.
"Claire."
I turned.
"Are you ready to tell me the truth?"
He looked older than I remembered.
"Yes."
He handed me a thick envelope.
"I didn't steal money from the foundation. But I did receive a payment from one of its associated companies."
"Why?"
"Because Vittorio asked me to."
I frowned.
"What?"
"He suspected Margaret was moving money. He wanted me to help trace the transactions without alerting the family."
I opened the envelope.
Inside were bank records, private correspondence, and a photograph.
The photograph showed Vittorio standing beside my father and another man.
A man whose face I recognized immediately.
Alexander.
But he looked much younger.
The date on the back was from eight years earlier.
Before Alexander and I had married.
I looked at my father.
"What is this?"
He swallowed.
"Vittorio discovered something about Alexander before your wedding."
"What?"
"He wanted me to protect you."
My fingers tightened around the photograph.
"Protect me from what?"
My father looked toward the crowd.
Then back at me.
"Your marriage wasn't the first time Alexander had been involved in a secret arrangement with someone connected to our family."
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"Who?"
Before he could answer, my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
One message.
Claire, your divorce was never supposed to happen. Alexander knows why. Ask him what happened to the woman who was engaged to him before you.
I stared at the screen.
Sophia?
No.
She had told me about their engagement.
This message referred to someone else.
A second message arrived.
And ask your father why Vittorio paid him to keep her disappearance secret.
I slowly raised my eyes.
My father was watching me.
He knew.
"Who was she?" I whispered.
He didn't answer.
Across the room, a man in a dark suit approached the entrance.
He looked directly at me.
Then he placed a small black box on the registration table.
Inside was a wedding ring.
Not mine.
Engraved on the inside were two initials.
A.M.
And beneath them, a date.
A date from three years before Alexander and I met.
I turned toward my father.
"Tell me everything."
His expression crumbled.
"Claire, there's something you need to understand. Alexander didn't choose you by accident."
My phone vibrated again.
This time, the message contained a photograph.
A young woman standing beside Alexander.
On the back, someone had written:
THE FIRST MRS. MORETTI.
I looked at the photograph.
Then at the ring.
And finally at my father.
For the first time since leaving Alexander, I felt something stronger than anger.
Fear.
Because if the message was true, then my marriage had never been the beginning of the Moretti family's secrets.
It had been part of a story that started long before I ever said, "I do."
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And somewhere in Chicago, someone knew exactly what had happened to the woman whose place I had taken.
THE END... FOR NOW.
