My Husband and My Best Friend Betrayed Me on Our Wedding Day. Twice. novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Two Minutes

In Luca's car Valeria learns he wrote her nine letters she never got, then sees her father's $260,000 life insurance leave the joint account and takes the key to his flat.

Luca drove with both hands on the wheel and did not speak until the second red light.

I held my veil in my lap. The church was in the mirror behind us.

"Your two minutes are up," I said.

"I know."

He kept his eyes on the road. "I wrote you nine letters after the divorce."

"I never got a letter from you."

"I know that too. You never answered one."

I almost laughed.

"You didn't write to me, Luca. You were in a bed with my best friend, and then you were gone."

His jaw moved.

"The paper I want to show you is in a drawer at my flat," he said. "I won't hand it to you in a car while you're wearing that dress."

"Then why did you say it on the steps?"

"Because you were walking away from both of us, and I needed you to get in."

The light turned green. He did not move the car until the driver behind us leaned on the horn.

My phone buzzed in my clutch.

It was the bank app. A notification, two lines long.

Transfer complete. $260,000.00 to Sorrentino Foods Holdings, from joint account ending 4417.

I read it twice.

The time stamp said 12:41. The priest had finished at 12:30.

Stefano had taken my father's money while he was telling me about Bianca.

"Pull over," I said.

"Valeria."

"Pull over now."

He swung into a loading zone outside a pharmacy. I was out of the car before it stopped, with the train of my dress in both fists.

I called the number on the back of my card, standing on the sidewalk in front of a rack of sunglasses.

A woman with a calm voice asked for my name, my date of birth and the last four digits of the account.

"The money in that account was my father's life insurance," I said. "It was for a house. Somebody just moved all of it."

"I see the transfer, Ms. Morandi. It was made by the other account holder, Mr. Sorrentino."

"He's not my husband. He stopped being my husband ten minutes after the priest finished."

"I understand. But either holder can move funds from a joint account without the other's signature."

"It went to his family's company."

"I can note your complaint. I can't reverse it."

I hung up.

My father had carried that policy in a drawer for twenty years. He paid for it with overtime and never missed a month.

He died six years ago, and my mother and I sat in a lawyer's office and signed for the money.

I had put every dollar of it into the account because Stefano wanted us to buy a house.

My phone buzzed again.

Stefano.

"Page four of the prenup, wife. Everything in the joint account became shared property on the day you said I do. The company thanks you for your deposit."

I stood with the phone in my hand.

I had signed that prenup in Bianca's office. She had read it with me, page by page, with a highlighter.

"It's standard," she had said. "Every couple does it. I'd never let you sign anything bad."

She had put her initials next to mine on page four.

Behind me a car door shut.

Luca walked up and stopped a few feet away. He had a grey sweatshirt over his arm.

"Put this on," he said. "People are staring."

"I don't care if they stare."

"I know. Put it on anyway. You're cold."

I was shaking, and I had not noticed.

I pulled the sweatshirt on over the beaded bodice. It smelled of cedar, and the sleeves came down past my fingers.

"How much?" he asked.

"All of it. Two hundred and sixty thousand dollars. It was my father's."

Luca did not say that he was sorry.

He said, "Tell me what you want to do."

"I want it back. I want it back in front of his father and his whole family."

"Then you'll need a place to sleep that isn't your mother's house or his."

"Why not my mother's?"

"Because that's the first place he'll look."

He took a key off his ring and held it out.

"A flat on Wickenden Street, third floor. Nobody knows I'm renting it. You don't owe me a word."

"I don't trust you."

"You shouldn't yet."

"You slept with Bianca, Luca."

"Then look at the paper tomorrow," he said, "and tell me to my face that I did."

I stared at him.

He still held out the key.

Across the street, a woman came out of the pharmacy, saw a bride in a man's sweatshirt, and went back inside.

My phone buzzed a third time.

It was Bianca.

"Valeria please let me explain. I'm at your mother's. I'm not leaving until you talk to me."

I took the key.

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