Gabriel Russo had been Dominic’s closest friend for nineteen years.
That fact became very important when I started wondering whether he had helped someone murder him.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Gabriel said.
I forced myself to put my phone down.
“Bad client.”
“You don’t have any bad clients.”
“You clearly haven’t met enough interior designers.”
He smiled, but his eyes moved toward my phone.
“Dominic wants you downstairs.”
“Why?”
“Dinner.”
I glanced at the clock.
Eight fifteen.
Dominic and I had not eaten together since the gala.
“I’m working.”
“His exact words were, ‘Tell my wife dinner is getting cold.’”
“My exact words are, ‘Tell my husband microwaves exist.’”
Gabriel laughed.
For years afterward, I would remember that laugh.
Easy.
Warm.
Completely normal.
That was the problem with betrayal.
It rarely arrived looking evil.
At dinner, Dominic sat at one end of a table designed for twelve people.
I sat beside him instead of at the opposite end.
He noticed.
Neither of us mentioned it.
“Gabriel says Marcus contacted one of his old employees,” Dominic said.
My fork stopped.
“When?”
“Today.”
I looked toward Gabriel.
He poured wine.
“Did he contact you?” Dominic asked.
I hated what I did next.
I lied.
“No.”
Dominic studied me.
Remember what he had said?
You’re terrible at lying.
His expression told me he remembered too.
But he didn’t challenge me.
After dinner, I followed him into the library.
“You know I lied.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because you had a reason.”
I crossed my arms.
“That’s surprisingly trusting.”
“No. Trust would be believing you. I simply know forcing you won’t work.”
I almost told him.
Then Gabriel appeared in the doorway.
“Dom, call from Brooklyn.”
Dominic wheeled out.
I waited until Gabriel followed.
Then I went upstairs and locked my door.
Marcus texted at 11:42.
Tomorrow. 10 a.m. Battery Park. Come alone.
I barely slept.
At nine the next morning, I dressed in jeans, a sweater, and a coat.
I made it to the back entrance before Dominic’s voice stopped me.
“Where are you going?”
He was twenty feet away.
I turned.
“Coffee.”
“You hate coffee from anywhere except that ridiculous place on Madison.”
“Maybe I’m expanding my horizons.”
“Claire.”
I sighed.
“Marcus contacted me.”
His entire expression changed.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“What did he say?”
“That he has proof against Roland.”
“And?”
I hesitated.
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
“And he told me not to trust Gabriel.”
Silence.
Then Dominic laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because he didn’t believe it.
“Gabriel was in the hospital when I woke up.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“He carried me out of the car.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“The truck hit the driver’s side. The car rolled. Gabriel had been following me because he thought I shouldn’t go alone. Fuel was leaking. He pulled me through the passenger window.”
Dominic’s voice became quiet.
“He broke his arm doing it.”
That complicated things.
“Then why would Marcus name him?”
“Because Marcus wants us divided.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re not meeting him alone.”
“He specifically said—”
“I don’t care.”
“You can’t exactly hide behind a tree.”
Dominic stared at me.
I winced.
“That came out wrong.”
“No, it was objectively funny.”
I blinked.
He almost smiled.
“Gabriel won’t come,” he said. “Two men will watch from a distance.”
I agreed.
Battery Park was cold and gray.
Marcus arrived twelve minutes late.
He looked terrible.
The confident man who once wore thousand-dollar suits had become thin and hollow-eyed. His beard was uneven. He kept looking behind him.
“Claire.”
I wanted to slap him.
I wanted to hug him.
I did neither.
“You have five minutes.”
He swallowed.
“I’m sorry.”
“Four minutes and fifty-five seconds.”
“I deserve that.”
“You deserve worse.”
He nodded.
“Roland recruited me two years ago. At first it was just invoices. Then he started using me to gather information about Dominic’s companies.”
“You knew about the crash?”
“Not until afterward.”
“Who helped Roland?”
Marcus looked around.
“I was wrong yesterday.”
“About Gabriel?”
“Yes.”
My heart kicked.
“Then why did you say his name?”
“Because I found payments going to G. Russo.”
“Gabriel Russo.”
“That’s what I assumed.”
“And now?”
“It’s not Gabriel.”
Marcus pulled an envelope from inside his coat.
“G. Russo is Gina Russo.”
“Who?”
“Gabriel’s mother.”
I stared at him.
“She died eight years ago.”
“That’s what the records say.”
“Marcus.”
“The account was opened using her identity. Somebody wanted investigators to think Gabriel was involved if the payments were discovered.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then what do you know?”
He handed me the envelope.
“Roland has someone inside Dominic’s organization. Someone close enough to know his routes, his meetings, his security.”
My stomach tightened.
“Gabriel?”
“I don’t think so anymore.”
“Who?”
Marcus looked terrified.
“Dominic’s attorney.”
“Elliot Crane?”
He nodded.
I knew Elliot.
Sixty-two.
Silver hair.
Soft voice.
He had drafted our marriage contract.
“He’s worked for Dominic’s family for decades.”
“He worked for Dominic’s father first.”
“So?”
“So Roland has been paying him for eleven years.”
I felt suddenly cold.
Marcus grabbed my arm.
“Claire, there’s something else.”
“Let go.”
He did.
“The money I stole from your company wasn’t the reason Dominic married you.”
“I know about the public image.”
“No.”
Marcus shook his head.
“He married you because Roland was watching you.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“When I disappeared, Roland thought I’d given you files.”
“I didn’t have anything.”
“He didn’t know that.”
My heart began pounding.
“Dominic knew Roland might come after you.”
Marcus nodded.
“So he put you inside the most secure house in Manhattan.”
The realization hit me slowly.
Dominic hadn’t merely used me.
He had protected me without telling me I needed protection.
Before I could respond, Marcus looked over my shoulder.
His face went white.
“Go.”
“What?”
“Claire, go.”
A black SUV had stopped near the curb.
Two men got out.
One of Dominic’s security men appeared immediately.
The other reached beneath his coat.
People began shouting.
I grabbed Marcus.
We ran.
No gunfire came.
Instead, the men chased us toward the waterfront.
Dominic’s second guard intercepted one.
The other kept coming.
Then a black sedan screeched across the roadway.
The rear door opened.
Dominic.
“Get in!”
I shoved Marcus inside and climbed after him.
The car accelerated.
Dominic looked at Marcus.
Marcus looked at Dominic.
Neither spoke for several seconds.
Then Dominic punched him.
Not dramatically.
Not repeatedly.
One hard fist straight into Marcus’s mouth.
Marcus fell sideways.
“Dominic!”
“That was for Claire.”
Marcus wiped blood from his lip.
“Fair.”
Dominic raised his hand again.
I caught his wrist.
“No.”
His eyes met mine.
I didn’t release him.
Slowly, his fist opened.
A real man, I thought.
Not because he could hit someone.
Because he could stop.
We took Marcus to a secure apartment in Queens.
There, he showed us everything.
Bank transfers.
Emails.
Construction invoices.
Messages between Roland and Elliot Crane.
Dominic read them in silence.
Then he reached one message.
His face changed.
“What?” I asked.
He turned the laptop toward me.
The message was dated three days before Dominic’s crash.
Route confirmed. Vale will be driving. Make certain there are no survivors.
Below it was Elliot’s reply.
Understood.
Dominic stared at those words.
Elliot Crane had known him since he was seven.
Had attended his father’s funeral.
Had sat beside Dominic’s hospital bed.
Had drafted our marriage contract.
“He betrayed you,” I whispered.
Dominic’s face became unreadable.
Marcus shook his head.
“That isn’t the worst part.”
He opened another folder.
Inside was a scanned document.
An insurance policy.
Dominic’s name appeared at the top.
But beneath it was another name.
A beneficiary.
A trust controlled by Roland Pike and Elliot Crane.
Dominic looked at Marcus.
“What is this?”
Marcus swallowed.
“Your father created that trust.”
“My father is dead.”
“Yes.”
Marcus looked between us.
“But before he died, he left instructions about who would take control if you became permanently incapacitated.”
Dominic went completely still.
“Roland and Elliot didn’t just try to kill you.”
Marcus’s voice trembled.
“They needed you alive.”
“Why?”
“Because your paralysis gave them legal access to something your death never would.”