The Jealousy Game Over, Marriage Over: The Donna Who Walked Away novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: Day One
At the anniversary dinner Tommaso names Ilaria Donna for seven days and bets on his wife's tears; Marisa leaves, is locked out when she comes for her things, and hears him plan the same fake papers for day seven.
Tommaso announced the game at our own anniversary dinner, in front of fourteen of his friends.
"Seven days," he said, and raised his glass to me with a boyish grin. "Mari, you know the tradition. Starting tonight, Ilaria is the Donna."
The table cheered.
Ilaria pressed both hands to her chest. "Mari, I told him it was too much. I told him you'd hate it."
She had sat on my bed in March and fed me broth for four days when I had the flu.
I believed her.
Every year the game got bigger.
The first year it was my bathrobe.
Last year it was my seat at the gala.
This year it was my house.
It always ended the same way.
On the seventh day I signed divorce papers he had printed himself.
Then he tore them in half in front of everyone.
Then everyone clapped, because that was proof I loved him.
"Don't cry this time, amore," Tommaso said, and his friends laughed.
One of them leaned over the candles. "Fifty thousand says she cries by Tuesday."
"Fifty thousand says she's back inside two days," Tommaso said. "Open the pool at the casino tonight."
I looked at the champagne tower in the middle of the table.
I looked at my husband, who was smiling at me with real affection.
So I stepped out.
I put my napkin on my plate.
I took my coat from the maid and walked to the front door.
Behind me, the whole room whooped.
"A new move this year! Hold the line, Boss!"
"Tommaso, she looks properly angry. Aren't you going after her?"
"She can't live without me," Tommaso said, in the voice he used for jokes. "Give it a couple of hours."
I drove to the apartment I had bought at twenty-six, before I ever met him.
Nobody had lived there for years.
The wallpaper was peeling, and the dust made me sneeze at the door.
But no one in it would treat my name as a prize.
At midnight my phone lit up with the group chat.
Ilaria had photographed the spare keys beside her breakfast tray. Under it she had typed: Donna Trial, Day One.
The friends answered in a flood.
Boss, is everything in Marisa's closet fair game now?
Tommaso answered himself: Of course. Ilaria, everything in this house is yours. Enjoy.
I put my phone face down on a dust sheet.
He sent me the video of Ilaria spinning in my silk nightgown, and then a text.
Still sulking? It's a harmless joke. Come get the rest of your things if you're going to keep playing runaway wife.
I went the next morning.
The guards at the gate looked at the ground.
My fingerprint didn't open the lock.
Ilaria opened it herself, in my bathrobe and my slippers.
"Mari, thank God," she said, and her eyes were wet. "He wouldn't let me stop it."
The master bedroom had been redone.
My vanity was bare, and my perfumes and jewellery were gone.
Our wedding photograph leaned against the wall in a dusty corner.
A cardboard box covered half of the photograph, hiding half of my face in it.
Tommaso pushed the box across the floor with his foot. "Playing hard to get only works once, Marisa."
Ilaria bit her lip. "Maybe I should just take the guest room?"
She did not move from the middle of the bed.
"The Donna sleeps in the master bedroom," Tommaso said, and caught her arm.
Then he looked at me, waiting.
He wanted me to throw myself on the bed, or to cry and ask who he really loved.
I picked up the box.
"Is there anything else?"
His smile went out.
For a long moment he only looked at me.
His eyes dropped to the old brass key on its cord at my collar.
I had worn it every day since our wedding.
"Keep Papa's old key, then," he said. "Sentimental fool. Let's see how long you last."
I shut the bedroom door behind me.
On the stairs I heard him tell his friends, loud enough for me to hear, "Day seven. Same papers, same pen. She signs, she cries, I tear them up."
Everyone laughed.
I stopped on the landing with the box in my arms.
On day seven, I would sign.
This time, I would read every page first.
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