Chapter 1

On Thanksgiving Day, I woke up to find that my husband, Don Moretti, and his lieutenant Vivian had shaved my head completely bald.

Vivian stood at the bedside, doubled over with laughter.

"It's overcast tonight—no moon. But Claire, your head is so perfectly round, all shaved clean like that. You'll make a lovely moon for everyone to admire."

I didn't break down screaming the way I used to. I didn't smash anything or demand answers. I just calmly picked up my phone and held a transfer request in front of Adrian's face.

"Fifty thousand dollars. Pay up."

This was the seventh time this month.

Ever since Vivian had been diagnosed with cancer, Adrian Moretti had treated her "bucket list" as the most important standing order in the entire Moretti family.

Vivian was his most trusted lieutenant, and she had once been my closest friend.

She said she wanted to experience being a bride, so Adrian—right there at our wedding, in front of every relative, ally, and guest—ripped the gown off my body and let her wear it to finish the ceremony.

She said she also wanted a honeymoon, so Adrian locked me on the rooftop and flew off with her to a private island.

In the beginning, I did break down. I confronted him. I begged him through tears to come to his senses. All I got in return was his cold, cutting rebuke.

He called me heartless. He said Vivian was dying—why couldn't I just let her be happy?

After that, I started putting a price tag on everything.

Shaving my head: fifty thousand dollars.

Giving up my wedding: one hundred thousand dollars.

Giving up my honeymoon: two hundred thousand dollars.

If my suffering had no value in his eyes, then I'd turn it into an invoice.

At the dinner that evening, Vivian deliberately picked up a dessert, one she'd packed full of wasabi, and shoved it into my mouth.

The burn shot straight through my sinuses, and I choked until tears streamed down my face.

Adrian frowned slightly but did nothing to stop her.

Vivian held up her phone and snapped a photo of me in that wretched state, laughing without a shred of restraint.

"Is tonight’s moon even as bright as Claire's bald head? Forget moon-gazing tonight—just look at her."

I wiped away my tears and held my phone in front of Adrian again.

"This time it's a hundred thousand."

The smile froze on Adrian's face.

"Claire, have you lost your mind over money?"

I didn't argue.

What he didn't know was that with this hundred thousand, I would have recovered the exact two million dollars my father had left me in my wedding trust—just enough to buy my way out of this joke of a relationship for good.

I held up the phone and repeated myself.

"One hundred thousand. Transfer it."

Adrian's brow furrowed deeper.

Vivian immediately softened her voice, as if stepping in to smooth things over on my behalf.

"It's all my fault. I shouldn't have insisted on moon-gazing tonight."

She looked at me with reddened eyes.

"I'm sorry, Claire. Once I'm dead, your hair will grow back..."

Adrian's gaze melted instantly.

He sighed and approved my transfer request.

"Vivian doesn't have much time left. Do you really have to measure everything in dollars? When did you become so cold-blooded?"

Cold-blooded.

Last month, during a camping trip, Vivian suddenly announced in the middle of the night that she wanted to watch the sunrise from the mountaintop.

Adrian didn't hesitate. He packed her and all the gear into the car and drove off, leaving me asleep in the middle of nowhere with no cell signal.

A storm rolled in that night. I spiked a fever, started hemorrhaging, and nearly miscarried. I was stranded in those woods for two days before a park ranger finally found me.

And now, he was calling me cold-blooded.

My phone chimed.

One hundred thousand received.

Adrian's voice dripped with disappointment.

"This whole scene you've been making—it was always about the money, wasn't it? There's your money. Happy now?"

About the money?

He seemed to have long forgotten that when we got together, the Moretti family was drowning in a financial crisis, and he was nothing more than a broke college kid who couldn't even afford dinner.

Later, when he wanted to build his own crew, when he wanted to launder the family's dirty money into legitimate assets—I handed over every last cent of the two million dollars my father had left me before he died.

Now that money was fully recovered.

It was time for me to go.

Vivian suddenly picked up her phone and let out an exaggerated gasp.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry, Claire."

"I meant to send your bald photo to Adrian, but I accidentally posted it in our college alumni group."

The group chat exploded instantly.

"Oh my God, isn't that Claire Hale? What happened to her?"

"Her head's so round and shiny—she really does look like the moon, hahahaha."

The group admin, Mason, tagged Vivian.

"Vivian, we've all heard about your illness. What else is left on your bucket list? Everyone's here tonight—let us help you figure it out."

Vivian glanced shyly at Adrian, then typed with her head lowered.

"Actually... there's one thing I've always regretted."

"If it's possible, I'd like Adrian to be my husband for three days."

The entire group erupted, tagging Adrian one after another.

"Say yes! Say yes!"

"You and Vivian were always the perfect match. If it weren't for Claire, you two would've been together ages ago."

"Exactly. Claire was always the odd one out. What's the big deal about lending out her husband for three days?"

Back in college, Adrian and Vivian had been everyone's idea of the perfect pair.

Adrian hadn't yet risen to the seat of Don, but he'd already taken over most of the Moretti family's operations. Vivian managed his books and even helped him deal with difficult lawyers and family elders.

They talked about routes, ledgers, territory, and protocol.

I couldn't understand a word of it, couldn't get a word in edgewise. All I could do was trail quietly behind them, buying their coffee and saving their seats.

Adrian looked at the messages flooding the group chat and let out a low laugh.

Not a second of hesitation.

"Alright. I agree."

Vivian immediately posted a beaming emoji in the group.

"Adrian said yes!"

The chat was instantly flooded with "congratulations."

I stood up, grabbed my bag from the couch, and walked toward the door.

Adrian caught up and seized my wrist.

"Where are you going?"

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Since the two of you are together now, I can hardly stick around being the odd one out, can I? Wouldn't want to intrude."

Adrian pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"Will you stop making a scene? These three days are just to fulfill Vivian's wish. Move into the guest room for a few days—that's all."

"She doesn't have much time left. Do you really have to begrudge her even this?"

I turned my head and looked at the enormous wedding portrait hanging on the living room wall.

The people in the photograph were Adrian and Vivian.

Just because Vivian said she wanted a set of wedding photos taken, I'd had to surrender my place.

Our marital home—she'd moved into that, too.

Because she said she was afraid to be alone, Adrian spent every night at her side, coaxing her to sleep.

I pulled my hand free and looked him in the eye.

"Adrian Moretti, I'm not making a scene."

"Let's get a divorce."