Chapter 1 - The Message Five Hundred Employees Read
The fifth time my husband spent the entire night away with his secretary, I didn’t call to ask where he was. Instead, I opened the company group chat with more than five hundred employees and wrote, “Mr. Moretti no longer needs to come home. He’s welcome to stay with Miss Carter permanently.” Three seconds after I pressed send, his phone started calling mine—and by morning, his father was demanding that we both come home.
My name is Claire Bennett Moretti.
For three years, I had been married to Vincent Moretti, one of the most powerful men in Chicago.
To everyone else, he was the intimidating head of Moretti Holdings.
To me, he was the husband who had stopped coming home.
And every time he disappeared overnight, Sophia Carter—his secretary—was somehow involved.
That night, I sat alone in our penthouse watching the clock crawl past three in the morning.
I didn’t cry.
I didn’t call.
I simply opened the company group chat.
Then I typed:
Good morning. This is Claire Moretti.
Thank you, Miss Carter, for taking such excellent care of my husband.
Starting today, Vincent is welcome to stay with you permanently. I’ve changed the door code, and his belongings will be delivered to company reception.
Then I pressed send.
The read count exploded.
Twelve.
Two hundred.
Four hundred eighty.
My phone rang.
Vincent.
I declined the call.
He called again.
Declined.
On the third attempt, I turned my phone off.
Then I walked into our bedroom and started packing his clothes.
Suit after suit.
Shirts.
Ties.
Cuff links.
I felt nothing but a strange, cold calm.
At seven that morning, I entered Moretti Holdings carrying two large suitcases.
The receptionist stared at me.
“Mrs. Moretti?”
“These belong to Vincent.”
Then I placed an envelope on top.
“And these are the divorce papers.”
Her mouth fell open.
Behind me, employees had already begun whispering.
I walked out without looking back.
When I turned my phone on outside, I had sixty-three messages and twenty-seven missed calls.
Then another call came through.
Richard Moretti.
Vincent’s father.
I answered.
“Claire.”
“Good morning, Richard.”
“I heard what happened.”
“I assumed you would.”
His voice hardened.
“Vincent has been staying out overnight, the entire company is discussing your marriage, and you sent divorce papers to his office.”
“Yes.”
A pause.
“Both of you are coming to the family house today.”
I looked across the street.
“Why?”
“Because I want to hear exactly what happened from both of you.”
“All right.”
But I already knew there was nothing left to save.
After hanging up, I called Nathan Brooks, an old college friend who was now a partner at one of Chicago’s top law firms.
“I need your help.”
His voice changed immediately.
“What happened?”
“I want a divorce.”
“Come to my office at two.”
At exactly two, I sat across from him with a cup of coffee between us.
“Tell me what you want,” he said.
“I don’t want Vincent’s money.”
Nathan lifted his pen.
“I only want what belonged to me before the marriage.”
“What property?”
“My father gave me a riverside mansion on the North Shore as a wedding gift. The deed is only in my name.”
Nathan started writing.
Then my phone vibrated.
Richard Moretti again.
I looked at the screen.
“Vincent’s father is calling a family meeting,” I said.
Nathan leaned back.
“And what do you want, Claire?”
I looked down at the divorce papers.
“For the first time in three years, I want to stop being quiet.”
Outside, Chicago carried on like nothing had changed.
But somewhere across the city, Vincent was dealing with a message five hundred employees had already read.
May you like
And his father was waiting for both of us.
This time, I intended to tell the truth.
