Chapter 7

Three days left.

I sat at my vanity, staring at my reflection. Raven-black hair, flawless makeup, the diamond necklace Nico had given me around my neck. Everything perfect. Everything fake.

My phone vibrated.

A photo.

Nico and Tiffany in a luxury Miami suite. Champagne, rose petals, their bodies tangled together.

"He said only a hotel this extravagant is worthy of me and his child. Nicer than your honeymoon suite."

I ignored it. Dialed my private advisor at the Swiss bank.

"Mrs. Moretti, an honor to serve you."

"I need all funds in the account converted to cash and portable assets. Today."

Two days left.

I met Katherine one last time. My only true friend.

"Olivia, you look... not well." Katherine's eyes were full of worry.

"I'm leaving Chicago."

"Business trip?"

"For good."

Katherine paused for a beat. Then just nodded. "I see. Do you need help?"

This was why I loved her. She never pried. Just offered support.

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

Katherine opened it. An emerald necklace worth two hundred thousand dollars. "Olivia, this is too much—"

"A gift for a real friend." I hugged her. "Take care of yourself, Katherine."

As I walked out of the Art Institute of Chicago, another message.

"He bought me this three-million-dollar bracelet at the auction tonight. Gorgeous, right? You better enjoy your last days as Mrs. Moretti."

I blocked the number.

The last day.

Three in the morning. The entire villa was silent as a tomb.

I stood in the walk-in closet, looking at the millions of dollars' worth of clothes, jewelry, bags. Hermès Birkins, Chanel suits, Tiffany diamonds... each piece had once made me feel like the mistress of this house.

Now they looked like nothing but decorations for a gilded cage.

The charity workers arrived promptly at four. I helped them load everything onto the truck.

"Mrs. Moretti, are you sure you want to donate all of this?" The young volunteer's eyes went wide. "These things... they're priceless."

"That's exactly 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. An old, decommissioned incinerator.

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

Wedding photos. Love letters Nico wrote. Honeymoon keepsakes.

All of it into the furnace.

The flames danced wildly in the darkness. Devouring every trace of Olivia Moretti.

The only thing I kept was my Steinway piano. The 1920s baby grand my grandmother left me. With me since childhood. One of the few things that truly belonged to me. I'd already arranged international shipping.

When the fire died, I felt a lightness I hadn't felt in years.

Olivia Moretti was dead.

But I wasn't done.

I walked into Nico's study. Opened his cigar cabinet. Limited Cuban cigars. Five hundred dollars each. I took them all. Gave them to the homeless man outside the gate.

His wine cabinet. Italian reds aged fifteen years. I opened every bottle. Poured them down the kitchen sink.

Then on the row of empty shelves, I placed one single bottle of cheap supermarket wine. Three dollars. The label read "Two-Buck Chuck."

Attached a note: "Pairs well with your new identity. —Your soon-to-be ex-wife."

Dawn broke. I got into the car to O'Hare.

As I arrived, I saw a familiar black Maserati pulling away from another terminal.

Nico was back.

My phone rang.

"Baby! I'm back!" His voice was giddy as a kid's. "The Miami business wrapped up faster than expected. I'll be home soon. I can't wait to see the surprise gift you prepared for me."

The surprise.

Quite a surprise indeed.

"I'll be waiting," I said calmly, watching his car disappear into the distance.

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

I hung up. Popped out the SIM card. Tossed it and the phone into the trash.

I gripped my new passport. My photo. The name: Evelyn Carter.

New identity. New beginning.

One last look at the Chicago skyline.

Goodbye, Olivia Moretti.

Hello, Evelyn Carter.

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