A month later, we were in court.

I sat at the plaintiff's table, dressed in a black power suit.

Dante sat at the defendant's table in a dark blue suit, his team of Moretti family lawyers behind him.

He looked much thinner, haggard even, with an unshaven jaw.

After the judge called the court to order, Ms. Hayes began to state my case.

“Your Honor, my client, Ms. Juliana Rossi, is seeking a divorce from the defendant, Mr. Dante Moretti, on the grounds of infidelity, which has caused irreparable damage to their marital relationship.”

Ms. Hayes presented all the evidence I had collected: the bank statements, the photos, the birth control pills, the condoms.

Dante’s lawyers tried to object, but the evidence was irrefutable.

“Does the defendant have any statement regarding this evidence?” the judge asked.

Dante stood up. “Your Honor, I admit I made a mistake, but I genuinely want to save this marriage. I love my wife. Please, give us a chance.”

“Love?” I couldn't help but stand up. “Dante, is this what you call love? Cheating on me? Using my money to support another woman?”

“The plaintiff will be seated,” the judge ordered.

Ms. Hayes continued. “Your Honor, the defendant's actions have severely damaged the marital bond. Mediation has failed, and my client is resolute in her request for a divorce.”

After two hours, the judge adjourned the court, saying a verdict would be delivered at a later date.

As I walked out of the courtroom, Dante caught up to me.

“Juliana, let’s talk.”

“Everything that needed to be said was said in court. There’s nothing left to talk about.”

“Juliana, I know I was wrong. Can you please give me one more chance?”

I stopped and looked at him. “Dante, do you have any idea what this past month has been like for me?”

He shook his head.

“I couldn't sleep. I had nightmares. Every day, I wondered what went wrong in our three years of marriage,” my voice trembled. “I blamed myself. I thought maybe I wasn’t good enough, wasn't gentle enough, wasn't thoughtful enough.”

“Juliana…”

“But then I figured it out,” I cut him off. “It wasn’t my problem. It was your character that was the problem.”

Dante’s face went pale.

“A man who can’t even be loyal doesn’t deserve to talk about love.” I turned to leave. “Dante, we are completely over.”

A week later, the court’s decision came down.

The divorce was granted.

Regarding the division of assets, because of Dante’s proven fault, I was awarded 60% of our joint marital property.

I hadn't wanted his money, but Ms. Hayes insisted it was what I was owed.

“Ms. Rossi, this is your legal right. You should accept it.”

The moment I held the divorce decree, I felt both relieved and empty.

Three years of marriage, over just like that.

From now on, Dante Moretti and I had nothing to do with each other.

Back at my studio, I started planning my new life.

First, work. I decided to quit my job and start my own business.

I had the skills, the capital, and I could definitely open my own design studio.

Second, where to live. I had to leave New York.

I needed to start over in a place with no memories.

After much thought, I decided on Chicago.

It was a fresh start, a great city for a new business.

I began the process of resigning from my job and contacted a real estate agent in Chicago.

Everything was moving forward smoothly.

Sloane was sad to hear I was leaving.

“Juliana, are you really going?”

“Yes. I need a new environment.”

“But I’m here, your friends are here…”

“Sloane, we’re best friends. That won't change no matter where I am,” I said, squeezing her hand. “Besides, we can call and text anytime.”

Sloane sighed. “Alright, but you have to promise me you’ll take care of yourself in your new place.”

“I will.”

“And you have to check in with me regularly.”

“I promise.”

On my last night in the city, I sat alone in my studio for a long time.

I thought about my three-year marriage—the sweet moments, the pain, the laughter, the tears.

In the end, it was all in the past.

I didn't regret the divorce. It was the best decision I had ever made.

A woman's most important assets are her dignity and her boundaries.

Dante had crossed my boundaries, so I chose to leave.

It was painful, but it was a price I had to pay.

Around midnight, my phone rang.

It was Dante.

I hesitated for a moment, then answered.

“Juliana, I heard you’re leaving New York.”

“Yes.”

“Why? Is it because of me?”

“It’s not because of you. It’s for me.”

“Juliana, please stay. We can start over.”

“Dante, we’re divorced.”

“The divorce decree is just a piece of paper. We can get remarried.”

“Impossible,” I said firmly. “Dante, give it up.”

“Juliana…”

“And please, stop bothering me.” I hung up the phone.

Then I turned it off and removed the SIM card.

Starting tomorrow, I would disappear completely from Dante Moretti's world.