I stared at Roland Pike’s face in the photograph until it blurred.
“You told me it was a car accident.”
Dominic sat behind his desk, shoulders rigid.
“I lied.”
“You think?”
“Claire.”
“No. You don’t get to say my name like I’m being unreasonable.”
Gabriel quietly moved toward the door.
I pointed at him.
“Stay.”
He stopped.
Dominic frowned.
“This is between us.”
“No, apparently nothing is between us. Apparently everyone in this house knows more about my life than I do.”
Gabriel looked uncomfortable.
Good.
I wanted someone besides me to be uncomfortable.
I lifted the photograph.
“Start talking.”
Dominic looked toward Gabriel.
“Leave us.”
Gabriel obeyed.
When the door closed, Dominic rolled toward the window.
For a moment he said nothing.
Then:
“Fourteen months ago, I was investigating Roland.”
“For what?”
“Stealing from me.”
I almost laughed.
“The mafia boss was being robbed?”
His eyes flashed.
“I own legitimate companies too.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“Roland and I had been business partners for years. Construction. Shipping. Development projects. I discovered money moving through subcontractors that didn’t exist.”
“Shell companies.”
“Yes.”
The word made my stomach tighten.
“Like Marcus used.”
“Exactly.”
Dominic turned his wheelchair toward me.
“I was scheduled to meet an accountant in Brooklyn who had evidence connecting Roland to the transfers. My driver was sick. I drove myself.”
“What happened?”
“A truck crossed the center line.”
I waited.
“The police called it an accident.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“No.”
His voice became flatter.
“The driver had been paid.”
I looked at his legs.
“The crash…”
“Fractured my spine.”
The anger drained from me for one second.
Not because he had lied.
Because I could suddenly picture it.
Metal.
Glass.
A man who had spent his entire life controlling rooms waking up unable to move his legs.
“Did you know immediately?”
“No. For three days, doctors told me swelling made the prognosis uncertain.”
His gaze dropped.
“On the fourth day, they stopped using the word temporary.”
I swallowed.
“And Roland?”
“Sent flowers.”
My skin crawled.
“Why didn’t you go after him?”
“I didn’t have proof.”
“You’re Dominic Vale. Since when do you need proof?”
He looked at me sharply.
“Since I decided I was tired of burying problems.”
That surprised me.
He wheeled closer.
“My father built his life through fear. I inherited his enemies before I inherited his businesses. For years, I believed violence was efficiency.”
“And now?”
“Now I know violence creates debts your children may spend their lives paying.”
“You don’t have children.”
“No.”
Something about his expression told me that answer contained a wound of its own.
I sat down.
“Where does Marcus fit?”
“Your firm worked on three properties connected to Pike Development.”
I remembered immediately.
A restaurant in Tribeca.
Two luxury apartments.
Marcus had handled all three contracts.
“Roland used your company to move money,” Dominic continued. “Marcus created inflated vendor invoices. The excess went through accounts he controlled.”
“My company was laundering money?”
“Without your knowledge.”
I felt sick.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wasn’t sure you were innocent.”
The words hit hard.
“You thought I was involved?”
“For the first two weeks.”
“And then?”
“I knew you weren’t.”
“How?”
“You’re terrible at lying.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
Almost.
“So you married me to investigate Marcus.”
“Partly.”
There it was.
I stood.
“Partly?”
Dominic’s face changed.
“What else?”
He looked away.
“Tell me.”
“Roland knew I was investigating him. After the crash, he started moving against my businesses. Investors became nervous. Partners questioned whether I could still lead.”
“Because you were disabled.”
“Yes.”
The simplicity of the answer made it uglier.
“Certain men in my world consider physical vulnerability the same as weakness.”
“And a wife fixed that?”
“A public marriage suggested stability.”
I stared at him.
“So I was decoration.”
“No.”
“A pretty wife beside the crippled king to prove the kingdom was fine?”
His eyes hardened.
“Don’t call me that.”
I regretted it immediately.
Not because he frightened me.
Because I had used the same cruelty Roland had.
“I’m sorry.”
Dominic turned away.
I walked around the desk.
“I mean it.”
“Forget it.”
“I won’t.”
Silence stretched between us.
Finally, I asked, “Why me specifically?”
“You needed money.”
“Lots of people need money.”
“You had a reason to stay.”
“That’s not enough.”
His jaw tightened.
“Dominic.”
He looked up.
“I saw you before the proposal.”
A chill moved through me.
“What?”
“Three months before.”
“Where?”
“Mercy House.”
I knew the name immediately.
A shelter my mother had supported. After she died, I continued redesigning rooms there for free whenever I could.
“You were there?”
“My foundation funds part of it.”
I sat slowly.
“I saw you arguing with a contractor,” he continued.
“He installed the wrong flooring.”
“He was twice your size.”
“He was still wrong.”
A faint smile touched Dominic’s mouth.
“You made him tear it out.”
“He charged a nonprofit for commercial-grade material and installed cheap laminate.”
“I know.”
His smile disappeared.
“I remembered you.”
That was somehow more intimate than anything he had ever said.
“Then Marcus’s name appeared in Roland’s accounts,” he continued. “When Gabriel brought me your file, I recognized you.”
“So you chose me because you knew I wasn’t involved?”
“I chose you because I thought you could survive my world.”
I didn’t know what to say.
Dominic reached for the photographs.
“Marcus disappeared because Roland realized I was watching him. We tracked Marcus to Montreal, then Boston. He came back to New York three days ago.”
“Why?”
“That’s what I intend to find out.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
I laughed once.
“Absolutely not.”
“This is dangerous.”
“He stole from me.”
“Roland tried to kill me.”
“And Marcus helped him.”
“We don’t know that.”
“We know he’s sitting across a table from him.”
Dominic’s voice sharpened.
“You will stay here.”
“Stop ordering me around.”
“Stop acting like this is a design dispute.”
“And stop acting like the wheelchair means you get to decide what everyone around you can handle.”
The room went silent.
His expression changed.
I realized what I had said.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.”
“No. I meant you’re trying to control everything because you can’t control what happened to you.”
His eyes became cold.
“That’s enough.”
“Dominic—”
“Get out.”
I left.
For the next two days, we barely spoke.
Then Marcus called me.
I was alone in my studio when my phone rang.
“Claire?”
My body froze.
I knew his voice immediately.
“Marcus.”
“Please don’t hang up.”
“Give me one reason.”
“Because you’re in danger.”
I laughed bitterly.
“From whom? The man I married or the man you stole for?”
Silence.
“You know about Pike.”
“Yes.”
“Then you need to get away from Dominic.”
“Why?”
“Because Roland knows why Dominic married you.”
“So do I.”
“No, Claire. You don’t.”
My pulse quickened.
“What am I missing?”
Marcus breathed shakily.
“Dominic thinks I betrayed him.”
“You betrayed everyone.”
“I made mistakes.”
“You stole from six employees and dozens of clients.”
“I was trying to survive.”
“By destroying me?”
“Roland had me trapped.”
“How?”
“He found out about the gambling.”
I closed my eyes.
Marcus had always gambled.
Sports. Cards. Private games.
I had never known how bad it was.
“I owed people money,” he said. “Roland bought the debt. Then he told me I could work it off.”
“By laundering his money through my company.”
“Yes.”
“You could have told me.”
“He threatened my sister.”
Marcus’s sister had two children.
That stopped me.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” he whispered. “But there’s something Dominic doesn’t know.”
“What?”
“The crash wasn’t supposed to leave him paralyzed.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“It was supposed to kill him.”
“I figured that out.”
“No. Listen. Roland didn’t order the crash alone.”
Cold spread through my chest.
“Who helped him?”
“I can’t say over the phone.”
“Then meet me.”
“No.”
“Marcus.”
“I have proof. Records. Messages. Everything.”
“Where?”
“I’ll contact you tomorrow.”
A sound came through the phone.
A door?
Marcus suddenly stopped breathing.
“Marcus?”
“Claire…”
His voice dropped to a whisper.
“Don’t trust Gabriel.”
The call ended.
I stood frozen.
Ten seconds later, my studio door opened.
Gabriel Russo walked in.
He smiled.
“Everything okay?”
I stared at the man Dominic trusted more than anyone in the world.
And for the first time, I wondered whether the enemy had been living inside our house all along.