Chapter 2 - What They Had Been Telling Her
Dominic did not take Mara home.
He took her upstairs.
The boutique occupied the ground floor of one of Serrano Holdings’ private commercial buildings, and the executive offices above it were empty after six on Fridays.
Dominic locked the conference-room door himself.
Celeste and Bianca remained downstairs.
He wanted them separated from Mara until he understood what was happening.
Mara sat at the long table with his jacket around her shoulders.
The seven photographs lay between them.
Dominic stood opposite her.
“Who knew you used that fitting room?”
“Everyone who was with me.”
“Names.”
She hesitated.
“Mara.”
“Celeste. Bianca. Sometimes your mother.”
Dominic’s face tightened.
“Anyone else?”
“A stylist named Renee.”
“Security?”
“I don't know.”
Dominic called his head of security.
“Pull every recording from the boutique for the dates I’m sending you. Nobody leaves the building until you finish.”
Mara looked up.
“Dominic, don't imprison your family because somebody sent photographs.”
“I’m not imprisoning anyone.”
“You locked the doors.”
“Temporarily.”
Despite everything, Mara almost smiled.
“That sounds exactly like something a mafia boss would say.”
His mouth moved slightly.
It disappeared quickly.
He sat beside her.
For the first time since entering the boutique, Dominic seemed less like the man everyone feared and more like the husband who had spent Sunday mornings burning pancakes because Mara liked sleeping late.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
She looked at the photographs.
“Because I thought they were right.”
“About what?”
“About me.”
Dominic leaned back.
Mara continued.
“You don't see what happens when we enter those rooms.”
“I see people looking.”
“You think they're afraid of you.”
“Most are.”
“That isn't always why they're looking.”
Dominic was silent.
Mara pulled his jacket tighter.
“Women stare at my stomach. Men look at you and then me as if they're trying to solve an equation.”
Dominic frowned.
“An equation?”
“How someone like you ended up with someone like me.”
“Someone like me married someone like you because I was smart enough to ask before another man did.”
She looked at him.
He meant it.
That almost made it worse.
“I used to believe that.”
“Used to?”
“Then Celeste started helping me.”
Dominic's eyes darkened.
“How?”
“She told me which photographers to avoid. Which designers were cruel about sizing. Which magazines would deliberately choose bad angles.”
“That sounds useful.”
“At first it was.”
Then came the pauses.
The sympathetic smiles.
The comments disguised as advice.
Maybe not that cut.
Maybe darker colors.
Perhaps a jacket over that.
Dominic likes elegance.
The family attracts attention.
You don't want people laughing at him.
Mara had swallowed each comment because Celeste delivered it gently.
Then Bianca joined.
Soon every gown Dominic bought became another test Mara believed she was failing.
“What about my mother?” Dominic asked.
Mara became still.
He noticed immediately.
“What did she say?”
“Nothing directly.”
“Mara.”
“She agreed with them.”
“How?”
“She never had to say much.”
Mara remembered one dinner particularly clearly.
Dominic had been called away.
Mara had worn a red dress.
His mother, Isabella Serrano, looked her up and down and said, “Confidence is admirable.”
Then she smiled.
“But discretion lasts longer.”
Mara changed before Dominic returned.
He never knew.
Dominic listened without interrupting.
When she finished, his face was unreadable.
“I should have seen it.”
“How?”
“You stopped wearing red.”
Mara blinked.
“You noticed?”
“I notice everything about you.”
“Apparently not everything.”
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Dominic looked hurt.
She regretted them immediately.
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't be.”
He reached across the table.
“I didn't notice the thing that mattered.”
Before Mara could respond, his phone rang.
Security.
Dominic answered.
“Yes.”
His expression changed as he listened.
“Send it.”
A video arrived.
Dominic placed the phone on the table.
Security footage showed Mara entering the fitting room wearing the copper gown.
Twenty seconds later Celeste approached.
She looked around.
Then she opened the door.
Mara frowned.
“I wasn't in there.”
“Where were you?”
“Getting shoes.”
Celeste disappeared inside for twelve seconds.
When she emerged, something small was in her hand.
The next clip showed Bianca entering later.
Then Renee, the stylist.
Dominic paused the video.
“Three people had access.”
Mara looked at him.
“Maybe the photographs came from a hidden camera.”
Dominic immediately called security again.
“Search the fitting room.”
They waited.
Four minutes later the reply came.
A miniature camera had been discovered behind a decorative ventilation panel.
Mara stood abruptly.
Dominic caught her before she stumbled.
“Someone filmed me changing?”
His anger became frighteningly quiet.
“Yes.”
She covered her mouth.
Dominic pulled her against him.
For several seconds she resisted.
Then she collapsed into his chest.
“I thought the dresses were the problem.”
“They never were.”
“I thought I was.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
“No.”
The word came out like an oath.
“You were never the problem.”
A knock sounded.
Dominic released her.
“Who?”
His security chief answered.
“Marco.”
Dominic unlocked the door.
Marco entered carrying a plastic evidence bag.
Inside was the camera.
“We found something else.”
He handed Dominic a small memory card.
“Footage?”
“Probably.”
Dominic inserted it into a secure laptop.
Folders appeared.
Not seven.
Dozens.
Photographs of Mara.
At restaurants.
At charity dinners.
Outside their home.
Walking alone.
Some went back almost a year.
Mara stared.
“This started before the dresses.”
Dominic opened another folder.
Financial records appeared.
Payments to photographers.
Payments to gossip accounts.
Draft articles.
One headline read:
MAFIA KING’S WIFE BECOMES HIS BIGGEST LIABILITY.
Another:
SERRANO’S EMBARRASSING MARRIAGE.
Mara whispered, “Oh my God.”
None had been published.
Yet.
Dominic scrolled.
Then he found a document labeled PHASE TWO.
Password protected.
Marco said, “Give me twenty minutes.”
“You have ten.”
Marco left with the laptop.
Mara stared at Dominic.
“What is phase two?”
“I don't know.”
“You have an idea.”
Dominic didn't answer.
That frightened her.
“Dominic.”
“My family business isn't what it used to be.”
She gave him a look.
“That's the sentence criminals use immediately before saying something terrifying.”
Despite himself, Dominic smiled.
Then his face became serious.
“My grandfather built things violently. My father expanded them. When I inherited control, I moved most of our money into legitimate businesses.”
“Most?”
“This isn't the moment for percentages.”
She almost laughed.
Then she remembered the photographs.
“Could somebody be using me against you?”
“Yes.”
“Your family?”
He looked toward the locked door.
“Maybe.”
Mara's stomach dropped.
Celeste had been cruel.
Bianca had been worse.
But secretly photographing her was different.
“Why?”
“Control.”
“Of you?”
“Of Serrano Holdings.”
Mara remembered Dominic's board.
His mother.
His uncles.
Celeste.
Several cousins.
Dominic owned the controlling share because his father had left it to him.
Unless—
“What happens to your shares if something happens to you?”
Dominic looked at her.
“They go to you.”
Mara stopped breathing.
“And if something happens to me?”
“To our future children, if we have them. Otherwise, a trust.”
“Controlled by?”
He didn't answer immediately.
“Dominic.”
“My mother and Celeste.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
Mara stood.
“You think this is about money?”
“I think someone wants us divided.”
“Why not just kill me?”
Dominic's expression became lethal.
“Don't say that.”
“It's a reasonable question.”
“No, it isn't.”
“In your world?”
“Especially in my world.”
He took her face gently between his hands.
“No one touches you.”
Mara searched his eyes.
“Someone already did.”
That silenced him.
Not physically.
But they had entered her privacy.
Her marriage.
Her sense of herself.
Dominic finally understood the depth of it.
He kissed her forehead.
Then Marco returned.
He looked disturbed.
“Password cracked.”
Dominic opened PHASE TWO.
There was only one document.
A schedule.
Saturday: leak photographs.
Sunday: publish anonymous testimony.
Monday: deliver legal packet.
Mara frowned.
“What legal packet?”
Dominic opened the attached file.
His face went completely still.
Mara moved beside him.
The document was a petition.
Not for divorce.
For annulment.
Her signature was already on it.
Except Mara had never signed anything.
She stared at the page.
“That isn't my signature.”
“I know.”
Another attachment appeared beneath it.
A medical declaration.
Dominic read the first paragraph.
Then shut the laptop.
Mara grabbed his wrist.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Dominic.”
He didn't move.
“Show me.”
She reopened the screen.
The document claimed Mara was psychologically unstable and incapable of managing Serrano assets.
At the bottom was the name of a physician.
Mara recognized it.
Her doctor.
She looked at Dominic.
“I saw him last month.”
“Why?”
“Routine appointment.”
“Did anyone arrange it?”
Mara thought.
Then remembered.
“Your mother.”
Dominic's phone rang.
Isabella Serrano.
He and Mara stared at the name.
Dominic answered on speaker.
His mother's voice came through calmly.
“Dominic, darling. Bring Mara to the family house.”
“Why?”
A pause.
“Because there is something your wife has neglected to tell you.”
Mara went pale.
Dominic looked at her.
May you like
Isabella continued.
“And once you see what I have, you may not want her to remain your wife at all.”
