fter catching my husband, Dante, in bed with his assistant, Angelina, again, I did something stupid.

I leaked the video. I wanted the whole world to see them for what they were.

But all I got was a lawsuit from the family and a six-month jail sentence.

And an essay from my son titled, “My Mother Is Crazy.”

That’s when I finally broke.

I filed for divorce and gave up custody of our son.

The day I left, Dante sneered at me. "Where you gonna go without me, Isabella? It's not too late to come crawling back."

What he didn't know was that my mother runs the Wright family—the biggest outfit in Italy.

And I'm her only heir.

The third time I caught my husband with his assistant, I didn't hold back. I put their mess on front street for the world to see.

But my little stunt only got me a lawsuit from the family and my own son calling me a psycho.

I was finally done. “I want a divorce.”

"Isabella Moretti, you stand accused of maliciously leaking private Moretti family business, causing severe damage to the family's reputation."

The judge's voice echoed through the courtroom. I sat at the defendant's table, the cold steel on my wrists a sharp reminder of the price.

Three days ago, I'd sent a video of my husband, Dante, and his assistant, Angelina, going at it in his office to the Chicago Tribune.

Now, I was paying for it.

"Does the defendant have anything to say?"

My lawyer stood up. "Your Honor, my client is deeply remorseful—"

"I'm not," I cut him off.

The court fell silent.

"Isabella!" Dante shot up from his seat, his eyes burning with rage. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"

I turned to look at the man I’d spent ten years with. He was still as handsome as the day we met.

Only now, when I looked at him, all I felt was disgust.

"I know exactly what I'm doing," I said, my voice calm.

The judge banged his gavel. "The defendant is sentenced to six months in prison. Bail is set at five hundred thousand dollars."

The crack of the gavel sounded final.

In the prison visitation room, Dante sat across from me.

He wore a handmade Italian suit, the emerald cufflinks I’d given him on his cuffs. A gift from my dowry.

"You're insane," he said, his voice pure accusation. "You'd burn down this family over some nobody?"

"A nobody?" I laughed. "Dante, the money you've spent on her could buy half the docks."

"That was just business—"

"What kind of business? The kind you do on your office desk? Or in our bed?"

His face flushed.

"Enough!" Dante slammed a fist on the table. "You think the reporters outside are going to let this go? Leo's getting laughed at by his classmates. The family elders are demanding answers. And it's all because of you!"

My heart twisted at the mention of our son.

"How's Leo?"

"He's fine. Better, even, without his psycho mother around," Dante sneered. "In fact, he wrote an essay. It's called 'My Mother Is Crazy.'"

That's when my world shattered.

"That's impossible..."

Dante pulled a piece of paper from his jacket and slid it across the table.

It was Leo's childish handwriting.

My mother is a psycho. She smashes things at home and screams at my father. She told strangers our family secrets. I'm ashamed she's my mother. I wish Aunt Angelina could be my new mom. She's gentle and smart, not crazy like my mom...

My hands were shaking.

"He wrote this?"

"Every word," Dante said, pulling the paper back, a smug look in his eyes. "You get it now? Even your own son can't stand you."

I closed my eyes as the tears finally fell.

Ten years of marriage. I gave up everything for this family. My career, my dreams, even my name. I made myself the perfect Moretti matriarch—I laundered their money, schmoozed for them, gave them an heir.

And now, my own son hated me.

"A divorce," I said, opening my eyes. My voice was terrifyingly calm. "I agree to a divorce."

Dante was stunned. He expected me to beg, to plead, to give in for Leo's sake.

"What did you say?"

"I said, I want a divorce. I want fifty million in cash. You can keep everything else. Including Leo."

"Isabella, you can't—"

"I can." I stood up. "Tell the elders their traitor problem is solved."

Dante stared at me, then finally nodded. "You'll regret this, Isabella."

As for bail, it was clear he had no intention of getting me out early.

I thought I was going to be locked up for the full six months, but the next day, the door to the visitation room opened again.

A few men in black suits pushed their way in. Leading them was a blonde woman. She looked about fifty, dressed in a Chanel suit, a Cuban cigar held between her fingers.

"Mom?" I stared, shocked.

Victoria Wright. My mother, who I hadn't seen in years.

My mother bailed me out.

Outside the prison, Victoria lit her cigar.

"Twenty-four years, Isabella. Are you finally ready to take my advice?"

I remembered what she’d said when I was six, when she'd tried to take me away from my father. "Darling, remember this: never find yourself without a weapon."

I chose to stay then.

Now, I finally understood.

My voice was hoarse but steady. "As soon as the divorce is final, I'm coming with you."

A black Armani suit, perfectly tailored.

The outfit Victoria had waiting for me was worth thirty grand—more than any of the gowns I ever wore as the Moretti family matriarch.

I stood in front of the mirror and looked at the woman staring back. Thirty years old, still beautiful, but her eyes were hollow.

"Ready?" Victoria asked from the doorway.

"Yeah," I said, turning to face her. "One last time."

The Moretti family estate sat on fifty acres of Long Island's Gold Coast. I had lived here for six years, hosted countless dinners, and welcomed capos from all Five Families.

Now, I was walking back in as a traitor.

The core members of the family were all in the living room. Dante stood by the fireplace, holding our son, Leo.

The moment Leo saw me, fear flashed in his eyes, quickly replaced by anger.

"Why is she back?" The seven-year-old clung to his father's neck. "Dad, you said the crazy traitor wasn't coming back!"

Every word was a punch to the gut.

My son, the child I carried for ten months, was looking at me like that.

"Leo, I'm just here to take care of a few things," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"I don't want to hear it!" Leo shouted, tears welling up. "You betrayed the family! You went on TV and said bad things about Dad! Aunt Angelina said you're a psycho and you'll hurt us!"

"But Leo, I would never hurt you..." I knelt down, trying to meet his eyes.

"Liar!" Leo spun around and buried his face in Dante's chest. "Dad, make her leave! I hate her!"

The memory hit me, sharp and ugly.

A rainy night. I pushed open the study door and saw him with Angelina, tangled together on the couch. Her dress was on the floor, his shirt was wide open.

"Dante!" My voice cut through the silence.

They scrambled apart, fumbling with their clothes. Dante tried to explain—it was a "moment of weakness," he was "under too much pressure," Angelina was just "comforting" him.

I wasn't listening. I just felt the rage and humiliation burn in my chest. I grabbed a glass vase from his desk and smashed it on the floor.

Shards of glass sprayed across the floor. My heart felt like it went with them.

My ankle was cut, blood streaming down, but I couldn't feel a thing.

Then I heard a cry.

Leo was standing in the doorway in his little blue pajamas, his eyes wide with terror. He saw the whole ugly scene: me, unhinged, standing in the wreckage.

I lost him in that moment.

"Isabella." Dante's voice pulled me back to the present. "You've cost this family a fortune. After the media ran with that video, our stock dropped fifteen percent. Our partners are starting to think we're weak."

"I'm aware," I said, getting to my feet.

"So, I'll sign the divorce papers," I continued. "I'm giving up custody of Leo, all claims to family assets, and the Moretti name."

The room was quiet.

But I saw Leo's shoulders relax.

My son was relieved that I was leaving.

Dante walked to the desk and pulled out a thick stack of documents. "I had them drawn up. Once you sign this, Isabella, there's no going back. You'll lose all privileges and protection of the Moretti family. Including," he paused, "the right to see Leo."

I looked at the papers, covered in dense legal jargon. Each line erasing the last ten years of my life.

I pressed my lips together. "I'll sign."

I picked up the letter opener from the desk and sliced my thumb.

No hesitation. No trembling. I pressed my thumbprint onto the last page of the divorce agreement.

The red print was a final, bloody seal.

"Finally!" Leo suddenly squirmed out of Dante's arms, his face lit up. "The traitor is finally gone from the family! Now I can hold my head up high!"

The joy on his face was genuine, a stark contrast to the disgust he'd shown me moments before.

Dante walked over, taking the blood-stained papers. "Do you have any idea how much you've shamed him, Isabella?" he said, as if justifying his son's reaction.

"You're always making a scene, you have no class, no grace. You never acted like a Moretti wife should. You never tried to understand the pressure I'm under."

I wrapped a napkin around my stinging finger and said nothing.

"Leo gets made fun of at school. He can't even look the other heirs in the eye."

"You're the one who cheated. You're the one who caused the scandal, not me," I said, looking right at him, my voice flat. "You can twist it however you want, blame it all on me, but you can't change what you did."

My mind drifted back three months, to another night I was left completely alone.

It was a major family fundraiser. All of the Morettis' biggest partners were there.

I was in a beautiful gown, playing the part of the perfect hostess. Everything was going smoothly until I saw them in the garden.

Dante and Angelina, standing close. She was whispering in his ear, her hand resting on his chest. He didn't push her away.

It wasn't the first time.

After the vase incident, I was on edge, paranoid. Every time I saw them alone, every time Angelina looked at my husband with those possessive eyes, the rage would start to boil.

"Enough!" my voice cut through the quiet night. "You can't even wait? You have to do this in front of everyone?"

The guests in the ballroom turned to look.

"Isabella, what are you talking about?" Dante came over, trying to take my hand. "Angelina and I were just discussing the charity fund."

"Discussing?" I snatched my hand back. "You have to be that close to discuss things? Her hand has to be on your chest?"

A dead silence fell over the crowd.

"Mrs. Moretti," Angelina suddenly said, her voice soft and reasonable. "I understand your concern. As a woman, it can be unsettling to see your husband speaking with another woman. But tonight is an important night for the Moretti family. Perhaps we could resolve this misunderstanding in private?"

Her calm, reasonable tone painted me as the hysterical one.

"Misunderstanding?" My voice grew sharper. "I saw it with my own eyes and you call it a misunderstanding?"

"Darling," Dante said, stepping in front of me, a warning in his eyes. "You've had too much to drink. Maybe you should go upstairs and rest."

"I'm not drunk!" I shoved him. "I saw you! Do you think I'm blind?"

And then, Angelina gave her master performance.

She walked up to me and gave a small, elegant bow.

"Ma'am, I am so sorry my presence has caused this problem. Perhaps I should leave so this wonderful evening can continue." She paused, her voice laced with hurt. "I only wanted to contribute to the family's charity work. If that makes Mrs. Moretti uncomfortable, I will withdraw from all my projects."

She played her part, and I lost. Her cool composure made my rage look like madness.

Dante looked from me to her, and I saw the scales tip.

"Isabella, you're disappointing me."

In that moment, I knew I'd lost.

Everyone started looking at me differently—the way you look at a crazy woman who's about to fly off the handle.

"Go to your room," Dante's voice was quiet, but it was an order. "Now."

The humiliation still suffocates me.

But the worst part was seeing Leo, watching from the shadows.

That's what led to the essay. His damn essay calling me a psycho.

My heart died for good that night.

But it was over now. All of it.

I put down the pen and walked out of the Moretti estate, without a single look back at Dante or Leo.

Behind me, I heard Dante's mocking voice, "See you in court. Hope you're just as decisive then."