The next day, I went to the best law firm in Manhattan.

The lawyer who met with me was a sharp, capable woman named Ms. Hayes.

“Ms. Rossi, I understand your situation,” Ms. Hayes said, pushing up her glasses. “If you have evidence of his infidelity, the divorce will be in your favor. But you need to understand, going up against the Moretti family won’t be easy.”

“Does seeing it with my own eyes count as evidence?”

“Testimony has limited power. It would be better if you had audio, video, or other physical proof.”

I nodded. “How long does the divorce process usually take?”

“If he agrees to an uncontested divorce, about a month. If not, filing a suit could take several months, or even longer.”

“And the division of assets?”

“Your premarital assets are yours. Marital assets are, in principle, split equally. But the Moretti family’s assets… are complex. If you can prove fault, you might get a larger share.”

I felt much lighter walking out of the law firm.

At least now I had a clear path forward.

Back at my studio, I started to sort through my finances from the last three years.

After we got married, Dante insisted on managing our household finances.

My credit cards and bank accounts were all linked to his.

He said it made us feel like a real family.

How ridiculous that sounded now.

I logged into my online banking and found that I only had two hundred thousand dollars in my account.

But my design income and dividends over the past three years should have been at least a million.

Where did the rest of the money go?

I pulled up my bank statements and started looking through them carefully.

I found many large transfers made to an account named “My Bella.”

Bella?

Isabella?

My hands were shaking.

Dante not only cheated on me, but he used my money to support his mistress?

As I dug deeper, I found more things that infuriated me.

Isabella’s apartment rent, her luxury shopping sprees, her vacation to the Caribbean—all paid for with my money.

Even the designer bags and jewelry she wore were bought by Dante using my money.

For three years, I had been frugal, entrusting all my earnings to him.

And he used it to spoil another woman.

What the hell kind of move was that?

Making the matriarch of the Moretti family pay to keep a mistress?

I was trembling with rage. I grabbed my phone, ready to call Dante.

But I stopped halfway.

No. I needed to be calm.

If he was going to be this heartless, I didn’t need to save face for him.

I took screenshots of all the transaction records. This was concrete proof.

Then I sent them to Ms. Hayes.

She replied quickly: “Ms. Rossi, this evidence is very beneficial to your case. I recommend you file to freeze your joint assets as soon as possible to prevent him from transferring them.”

Following her advice, I had my lawyer handle the asset preservation order.

It was five in the afternoon by the time I left the bank.

I drove past Dante’s corporate headquarters downtown and saw his bulletproof Rolls-Royce still parked there.

Isabella’s little red MINI Cooper was there too.

They were still together.

I took out my phone and snapped a picture.

It wasn't hard evidence of the affair, but it at least showed their relationship was more than professional.

Just as I was about to leave, I saw Dante and Isabella walk out of the building together.

They were talking and laughing, looking very intimate.

Isabella had her arm linked with Dante’s, just like a couple in love.

I sat in my car, watching them.

A storm of emotions churned inside me.

I used to be the one who walked with my arm linked in his like that.

He used to look at me with that same gentle expression.

Now, all of that was for another woman.

They got into Dante’s car, and I followed them.

The car drove to a luxury apartment building on the Upper East Side.

From a distance, I watched them enter the building.

This must be where Isabella lived.

I waited on the street corner for two hours before Dante came out.

He was alone.

So they really were living together.

Or rather, Dante had set up a love nest for Isabella.

With my money.

I took more pictures, then drove home.

On the way, I called Sloane.

“Sloane, guess what I found out?”

“What?”

“Dante didn’t just cheat on me. He used my money to support his mistress.”

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end. “Juliana, are you sure?”

“Bank statements don’t lie.” I told her everything I had discovered that day.

After listening, Sloane was furious. “That bastard! He’s gone too far!”

“Yeah, I think so too.”

“Juliana, you have to make him pay!”

“I will.”

By the time I hung up, I was at my studio.

As I was about to go inside, I saw Dante’s car parked on the street.

He got out and walked toward me. “Juliana, we need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” I kept walking toward the building.

He followed me. “Juliana, you can’t be like this.”

“Like what?” I stopped on the staircase and turned to look at him.

“It’s been two days. You won’t even talk to me.”

“Why should I talk to you?”

“Because we’re husband and wife.”

“Husband and wife?” I sneered. “Dante Moretti, you remember we’re husband and wife?”

My words left him speechless.

“Did you remember we were husband and wife when you were screwing Isabella?”

“Juliana…”

“And did you remember we were husband and wife when you were using my money to support her?”

Dante’s expression changed. “What are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about?” I pulled out my phone and showed him the bank statements. “What do you think these transfers to ‘My Bella’ mean?”