Chapter 2 - The Letter She Never Delivered
Dominic read Mara’s letter twice.
The second time hurt worse.
The first time, shock had protected him.
By the second, every sentence had found somewhere to land.
I tried to tell you about the baby three times.
The first time was the night of the Calder Foundation dinner.
The second was the morning you left for Boston.
The third time I wrote this letter because I realized I could no longer trust the messages reaching you.
Dominic stopped.
Boston.
He remembered that morning.
Mara had stood at the top of the staircase in a pale robe, one hand gripping the banister.
She had asked him not to leave yet.
He had been distracted by a crisis involving one of the Vascari shipping companies.
Celeste had arrived ten minutes later carrying documents.
At the time, Celeste had been nothing more than the outside public-relations consultant hired to handle a scandal involving one of Dominic’s companies.
Or that was what he had believed.
Dominic continued reading.
Celeste told me you already knew.
His jaw tightened.
She said you wanted the pregnancy handled privately because a child would make you vulnerable.
Dominic’s fingers crushed the edge of the page.
Mateo stood several feet away, silent.
Celeste had stopped trying to leave.
Perhaps she understood that running now would accomplish nothing.
Dominic read the next paragraph.
I didn’t believe her. Not at first. Then she showed me messages.
Messages from your number.
You said you wished I had never gotten pregnant.
Dominic looked up.
“I never sent that.”
Celeste folded her arms.
“Mara was frightened. People believe strange things when they’re frightened.”
He stepped toward her.
“Were the messages fake?”
“I don’t know what messages she means.”
“You had seven months to read this letter.”
“I didn’t read it.”
“The envelope was open.”
“It opened in my bag.”
Mateo almost laughed.
Dominic did not.
He continued.
Mara had included dates.
Times.
Details.
She wrote that Celeste had visited her privately two days before she disappeared.
Celeste had shown her photographs of a damaged vehicle.
A hospital report.
A list containing Mara’s schedule.
Then she had delivered the final threat without ever calling it one.
People around Dominic get hurt.
Children make powerful men careless.
If you love him, disappear before someone uses the baby against him.
Dominic lowered the letter.
“Did you say that?”
Celeste’s eyes glistened.
“I was trying to protect you.”
The words hung between them.
Mateo straightened.
Dominic stared at her.
“You just said you knew nothing.”
“I knew she was scared. That’s different.”
“You knew she was pregnant.”
Celeste looked away.
There it was.
The first truth.
Dominic felt strangely calm.
“How long?”
Celeste said nothing.
“How long did you know?”
“Almost from the beginning.”
Mateo muttered something under his breath.
Dominic ignored him.
“And you never told me.”
“She asked me not to.”
The lie was so effortless that Dominic almost admired it.
He raised Mara’s letter.
“She begged you to give me this.”
Celeste’s mouth tightened.
“She changed her mind constantly.”
“Stop.”
“I was protecting you.”
“Stop saying that.”
“For months you were finally becoming yourself again.”
Dominic stared at her.
“Myself?”
“You were sleeping. Working. Living.”
“My wife vanished carrying my child.”
“You didn’t know that!”
“Because you made sure I didn’t.”
The corridor went silent.
A nurse at the station glanced toward them before quickly looking away.
Celeste lowered her voice.
“You think everything was perfect before Mara left? She hated your life. She hated your family. She hated the guards, the meetings, the people calling at midnight. She was already halfway out the door.”
“Maybe.”
Dominic looked at the ultrasound photograph.
“But that decision belonged to her. And the truth belonged to me.”
Celeste’s face hardened.
“You would have chased her.”
“Yes.”
“You would have dragged her back into that house.”
“No.”
“You don’t know that.”
Dominic looked at her for a long moment.
“No. I don't.”
That answer surprised her.
It surprised Mateo too.
Dominic folded the letter carefully.
For years, people around him had learned to give him the answers they thought he wanted.
Mara had been one of the few who refused.
Maybe that was why losing her had felt like losing the only honest mirror in his life.
The operating doors opened.
A nurse approached.
“Mr. Vascari?”
Dominic turned immediately.
“Your wife is awake.”
Every other thought disappeared.
“Can I see her?”
“She’s sedated and weak. Five minutes. Keep her calm.”
Dominic started forward.
The nurse glanced at Celeste.
“Only one visitor.”
“Good,” Dominic said.
Celeste stiffened.
“Dominic—”
He stopped.
“Mateo.”
“Yes?”
“Celeste leaves the hospital.”
Celeste stared at him.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“You need me.”
“No.”
Those two letters hurt her more than shouting would have.
Dominic followed the nurse.
Mara was in a private recovery room.
Machines surrounded her.
An IV ran into her arm.
Her face looked smaller against the pillow.
But her eyes were open.
They found him the moment he entered.
Fear came first.
Then confusion.
Then something that looked almost like grief.
Dominic stopped beside the door.
He suddenly understood that entering the room did not mean he had permission to approach her.
“Mara.”
Her lips parted.
“Dominic?”
“Yes.”
Her hand moved toward her abdomen.
“The baby.”
“Still inside you.”
Her eyes filled immediately.
“Heartbeat?”
“Strong.”
She closed her eyes.
A tear slipped sideways into her hair.
Dominic had imagined this reunion a hundred times during the first months after she left.
In some versions he demanded answers.
In others she apologized.
In the worst ones she told him she had never loved him.
He had never imagined standing beside a hospital bed trying to tell her that their unborn child was alive.
He moved one step closer.
“Mara, I didn’t know.”
Her eyes opened.
He held up the letter.
She stared at it.
Then terror changed her face.
“Where did you get that?”
“Celeste.”
Mara’s monitor accelerated.
“No.”
“Mara—”
“She has it?”
“The letter?”
“No.”
Her voice cracked.
“The other thing.”
Dominic remembered the surgeon.
Don’t let Celeste take it.
“What other thing?”
Mara struggled to sit up.
Pain stopped her.
The nurse moved forward, but Mara grabbed Dominic’s wrist.
Her fingers were surprisingly strong.
“My phone.”
“We didn’t find one.”
“It was in my car.”
“What’s on it?”
Mara stared at him.
“Proof.”
Dominic’s stomach tightened.
“Proof of what?”
“The messages weren’t the reason I stayed away.”
He leaned closer.
“Then what was?”
Mara looked toward the door.
“Three weeks after I left, I realized the messages from your number were fake.”
Dominic said nothing.
“I was coming home.”
The sentence nearly broke him.
“What stopped you?”
“Someone followed me.”
“Who?”
“I never saw his face.”
The nurse stepped forward.
“She needs to rest.”
Mara ignored her.
“He knew the apartment where I was staying. He knew my doctor’s name. He knew the baby was a boy.”
Dominic froze.
A son.
He was having a son.
Mara saw the realization in his face.
“I wanted to tell you myself.”
Dominic could barely speak.
“You should have.”
“I tried.”
“I know.”
Her eyes moved to the letter.
“You read it?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know why I couldn’t trust anything anymore.”
Dominic lowered his head.
“I know why you thought you couldn’t.”
Mara studied him.
The distinction mattered.
Before either could speak again, Mateo appeared at the doorway.
He looked grim.
“Boss.”
Dominic turned.
“I told you—”
“It’s the car.”
Mara tightened her grip on Dominic.
“What about it?”
Mateo looked at her.
“Police impounded it after the crash.”
“And?”
“Someone got there before them.”
Dominic’s expression changed.
“The phone?”
“Gone.”
Mara closed her eyes.
Dominic looked toward the hallway.
“Celeste?”
Mateo shook his head.
“She never left.”
“What?”
“I went downstairs with her. She got a call in the lobby.”
“And?”
Mateo held up his own phone.
“I heard enough to know we have a bigger problem.”
Dominic waited.
Mateo’s next words changed everything.
“She told whoever called that Mara survived.”
Mara went completely still.
Mateo continued.
“Then she said, ‘You should have made sure the car never reached the hospital.’”
Dominic turned toward the doorway.
But Celeste was no longer in the lobby.
May you like
And neither was her cream handbag.
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