Chapter 1 - Forty-One Dollars
Bonnie pushed the signed divorce papers across the table and whispered, "There. You're free."
A man in a black suit watched from across the restaurant while Ryan dropped three bills beside the contract.
Two twenties.
One single.
The stranger stopped watching Ryan.
He started watching Bonnie.
Bonnie Wexler kept her hand around the pen for three seconds longer than necessary.
Not because she wanted to change her mind.
That possibility had disappeared somewhere between Ryan's lawyer emailing her the final agreement and Ryan insisting they sign it over dinner at Bellamy's, one of the most expensive restaurants in the city.
She held the pen because putting it down would make the moment real.
Six years.
Six years reduced to ink.
Ryan leaned back in his chair.
His black suit probably cost more than Bonnie's first car. A gold watch gleamed beneath his cuff. He lifted his red wine and studied the signature.
Then he smiled.
"That wasn't so hard."
Bonnie looked at him.
Once, that smile had convinced her to marry him.
Back then, Ryan Wexler had possessed ambition and almost nothing else.
His first development company had consisted of a secondhand laptop, a folding desk, and a collection of architectural drawings taped to the wall of their tiny apartment.
Bonnie had worked overtime.
She had paid the electric bill when his first investor disappeared.
She had made grilled cheese sandwiches at midnight while Ryan redesigned proposals.
She had sold the diamond earrings her grandmother left her when his company nearly missed payroll.
Ryan used to kiss her forehead and promise that someday she would never have to worry about money again.
Apparently, he'd kept half that promise.
Ryan no longer worried about money.
He simply no longer wanted Bonnie around to enjoy it.
Beside him sat Vanessa Cole.
Vanessa was everything Ryan had recently decided a successful man's wife should look like.
Slim.
Polished.
Expensive.
Her champagne-colored satin dress caught the chandelier light whenever she moved. Her long brunette hair fell over one shoulder in carefully arranged waves.
Vanessa rested one hand against Ryan's arm.
"Can we celebrate now?"
Ryan laughed.
Bonnie lowered her eyes.
That was when Ryan reached into his wallet.
He removed three bills.
Two twenties.
One dollar.
He dropped them onto the white tablecloth.
Bonnie stared at them.
"What's that?"
"Cab fare."
Ryan took another drink.
Bonnie glanced toward the enormous windows.
Rain streaked the glass.
"You asked me to come here."
"And now dinner's finished."
Ryan nudged the money toward her.
"Forty-one dollars. It's pouring. Get a cab."
Vanessa laughed.
It wasn't loud.
That somehow made it worse.
A woman standing several feet behind Bonnie covered her mouth.
The man beside her stared at Ryan as though he couldn't believe what he'd heard.
Bonnie looked down at the money.
Forty-one dollars.
There had been a winter six years earlier when Ryan had exactly thirty-eight dollars in his checking account.
Bonnie remembered because she'd secretly transferred six hundred dollars from her savings so he wouldn't discover how close they were to missing rent.
She remembered Ryan standing in their kitchen afterward.
He had wrapped his arms around her.
"Someday I'll repay everything you've done for me."
Bonnie had laughed.
"I didn't marry you for repayment."
She wished she could speak to that younger woman now.
She would tell her love should never become an unpaid loan.
Vanessa leaned toward Ryan.
"She's making this uncomfortable."
Bonnie looked up.
Ryan sighed.
"Bonnie."
"What?"
"Don't turn this into something dramatic."
Something inside her became very still.
She closed the document folder.
Then she placed the pen neatly beside it.
"I wouldn't dream of it."
Ryan frowned.
Perhaps he'd expected screaming.
Maybe tears.
Maybe Bonnie begging him to reconsider.
He'd underestimated what six months of quiet humiliation could do to a person.
Bonnie stood.
She left the forty-one dollars exactly where he'd placed it.
Ryan glanced at the bills.
"You'll need that."
"No."
"Don't be stubborn."
Bonnie picked up her purse.
"I've paid for enough things involving you."
Vanessa's smile vanished for half a second.
Ryan's face hardened.
"There she is."
Bonnie paused.
"Who?"
"The bitter woman I've been telling Vanessa about."
Vanessa touched his wrist.
"Ryan."
"No, it's fine." Ryan looked directly at Bonnie. "She should hear it. You know what your problem is? You always acted like supporting me entitled you to part of what I built."
Bonnie felt the words strike somewhere deep.
But she refused to let them show.
"What you built?"
Ryan smiled.
"Exactly."
Bonnie looked at the signed agreement.
She could have reminded him about the first investor presentation she'd rewritten.
The permits she'd organized.
The loan she'd cosigned.
The months she'd spent balancing his company's books after work.
Instead, she simply said, "Goodbye, Ryan."
She turned.
Then the restaurant became silent.
Not gradually.
Instantly.
Forks stopped moving.
Conversations died.
Even the pianist near the bar seemed to miss a note.
Bonnie noticed several diners looking past her.
Toward the entrance.
She followed their eyes.
The doors had opened.
A tall man stepped inside.
He wore a black tailored suit beneath a long black overcoat darkened by rain.
Water clung to his hair.
He didn't look hurried.
He didn't look angry.
He simply walked.
And people moved.
The maître d' approached him with the nervous respect usually reserved for heads of state.
"Mr. Moretti."
The name traveled through the room almost invisibly.
Moretti.
Bonnie knew it.
Everyone in the city knew it.
Vincent Moretti.
Some newspapers called him a businessman.
Others used less charitable descriptions.
He controlled restaurants, construction companies, private security firms, shipping interests, and enough real estate to make powerful men return his calls.
Stories followed him.
Bonnie had never known which were true.
She only knew Ryan had mentioned Vincent Moretti once.
Three years earlier, after losing a bid for a downtown redevelopment project.
Ryan had thrown his phone across their apartment.
"Moretti."
Bonnie had asked who that was.
Ryan's answer had been immediate.
"Someone you never want noticing you."
Now Vincent Moretti was noticing Bonnie.
He walked directly toward her.
Bonnie remained still.
Behind her, she heard Ryan's chair move.
"Mr. Moretti?"
Vincent didn't look at him.
He stopped in front of Bonnie.
Up close, he seemed even more imposing.
Late thirties, perhaps.
Dark hair.
Short stubble.
Calm eyes.
His expression changed when he looked at her.
Not much.
Just enough.
"Bonnie."
She stared at him.
"You know me?"
"Yes."
Ryan appeared beside the table.
"Mr. Moretti, Ryan Wexler. Wexler Development."
Vincent still didn't look at him.
Instead, he removed his wet overcoat.
He placed it gently around Bonnie's shoulders.
Warmth surrounded her.
Bonnie's fingers closed around the lapels instinctively.
Vanessa's mouth fell open.
Ryan's expression went blank.
Vincent finally turned toward him.
His gaze dropped to the table.
The divorce papers.
Then the money.
Two twenties.
One single.
Vincent looked back at Ryan.
"Forty-one dollars?"
Ryan swallowed.
"It's not what it looks like."
Vincent's expression remained unreadable.
Bonnie found her voice.
"Why are you here?"
Vincent looked at her.
"For you."
Bonnie almost laughed from sheer disbelief.
"You don't know me."
"I know more than you think."
Ryan stepped closer.
"Bonnie, what's going on?"
Vincent's eyes moved to him.
Ryan stopped.
Vincent then offered Bonnie his hand.
"Come with me."
She didn't take it.
"Where?"
"Somewhere dry."
Bonnie looked at the rain outside.
Then at the stranger who somehow knew her name.
"This is insane."
"Probably."
His mouth almost formed a smile.
Bonnie shook her head.
"Why would I go anywhere with you?"
Vincent studied her for a moment.
Then he said something that made Ryan's wineglass slip in his hand.
"Because my future wife shouldn't be standing alone in the rain."
The glass struck the table.
Vanessa gasped.
Bonnie stared at Vincent.
"Your what?"
Ryan stepped forward.
"She's not your future anything."
Vincent slowly turned.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
Ryan's confidence disappeared.
Bonnie saw it happen.
The arrogance.
The smirk.
Gone.
Vincent spoke quietly.
"You divorced her."
Ryan opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Vincent looked at Bonnie again.
"You don't have to come with me."
Bonnie appreciated that more than she wanted to admit.
No command.
No pressure.
Just a choice.
She looked back at Ryan.
He seemed almost frightened now.
That frightened her more than Vincent did.
Bonnie finally took Vincent's hand.
Only for balance.
At least that was what she told herself.
They walked toward the entrance.
People watched them.
Bonnie could feel Ryan staring at her back.
Outside, a black car waited beneath the awning.
Vincent opened the rear door himself.
Bonnie stopped.
"I need answers."
"You deserve them."
"Starting with why you called me your future wife."
Vincent's eyes held hers.
"That answer starts six years ago."
Bonnie's breath caught.
Six years.
The exact length of her marriage.
Before she could ask another question, Ryan burst through the restaurant doors behind them.
"Bonnie!"
She turned.
Ryan wasn't looking at her.
He was staring at Vincent.
And for the first time since Bonnie had known him, Ryan looked terrified.
"Don't tell her," Ryan said.
Bonnie slowly faced her former husband.
"Don't tell me what?"
Vincent's expression hardened.
Ryan took one step backward.
Then Bonnie's phone vibrated inside her purse.
Unknown number.
She opened the message.
There was only one sentence.
ASK RYAN WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR MONEY SIX YEARS AGO.
Bonnie looked up.
Ryan had seen the screen.
May you like
His face went white.
Then Vincent said quietly, "Bonnie, there's something inside that divorce agreement you need to see."
