Erasing Mrs. Moretti

Three days left.

I sat at my vanity, staring at my reflection. Long black hair, perfect makeup, the diamond necklace Dante gave me around my neck—all so perfect, all so fake.

My phone buzzed again.

A photo.

Dante and Jenna in a luxury suite in Las Vegas. Champagne, rose petals, and their bodies tangled together.

[He said only a hotel this lavish is good enough for me and my baby. It's even nicer than your honeymoon suite.]

I ignored it and called my private advisor at my Swiss bank.

"Mrs. Moretti, a pleasure."

"I need to convert all the funds in my account into cash and portable assets. Within the day."

Two days left.

I met Maria for a final goodbye. She was my only real friend.

"Alessia, you look... unwell," Maria said, her eyes full of concern.

"I'm leaving Chicago," I said, getting straight to the point.

"For a business trip?"

"For good."

Maria paused for a moment, then simply nodded. "I see. Do you need my help?"

That was why I loved her. She never pried, only offered support.

"No. But..." I handed her a small package. "This is for you."

Maria opened it. Inside was an emerald necklace worth two hundred thousand dollars. "Alessia, this is too much—"

"No, it's a gift for a true friend," I said, hugging her. "Take care of yourself, Maria."

As I walked out of the museum, I got another message.

[He bought me this three-million-dollar bracelet at an auction tonight. Beautiful, isn't it? You'd better enjoy your last few days as Mrs. Moretti.]

I blocked the number.

The last day.

Three a.m. The entire mansion was as silent as a tomb.

I stood in my walk-in closet, looking at the millions of dollars worth of clothes, jewelry, and bags. Hermès Birkins, Chanel suits, Cartier diamonds… each one had once made me feel like a successful woman.

Now they just looked like a gilded cage.

The charity workers arrived promptly at four. I helped them load everything into their truck.

"Mrs. Moretti, are you sure you want to donate all of this?" one of the young volunteers asked, her eyes wide. "These things... they're priceless."

"Exactly. Which is why they should go to people who actually need them."

After they left, I took three large boxes and drove to an abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city. It had an old, decommissioned incinerator.

One by one, I tossed in the "evidence."

Our wedding photos, the love letters Dante had written me, souvenirs from our honeymoon… I threw them all into the furnace.

The flames danced in the darkness, devouring every last trace of Alessia Moretti.

The only thing I kept was my violin. The 1920s Italian instrument that had been with me since childhood was one of the few things that was truly mine.

As I watched the fire die down, I felt a sense of relief I had never known before.

Alessia Moretti was dead.

As dawn broke, I got into the car that would take me to the airport.

Just as we pulled up, I saw a familiar black Maserati pulling away from another terminal. Dante was back.

At that exact moment, my phone rang.

"Baby! I'm back!" Dante's voice was as excited as a child's. "Vegas business wrapped up faster than I thought. I'll be home soon. I can't wait to see that surprise gift you got me."

A surprise.

It was certainly a surprise.

"I'm waiting for you," I said calmly, watching his car disappear into the distance.

"I love you, Alessia. Wait for me."

I hung up, popped out the SIM card, and threw it and the phone into a trash can.

I clutched my new passport. The photo was of me, but the name was Ava Chen. A new identity. A new beginning.

I took one last look at Chicago, then walked resolutely toward the boarding gate.

Goodbye, Alessia Moretti.

Hello, Ava Chen.