The Wright Queen

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