Chapter 3 - The Woman at the Head of the Table
Victoria Serrano never raised her voice.
She did not need to.
At sixty-eight, she could silence a dining room simply by setting down a wineglass.
Dominic had inherited that quality from her.
He had also inherited her stubbornness.
Unfortunately, so had Celeste.
The family dinner began at seven the following evening.
Isabella almost did not attend.
Then she remembered the card.
Know your place.
For six months, other people had been deciding what her place was.
At six-thirty, she put on the plum gown.
It fit beautifully.
Not because it disguised her body.
Because it followed it.
The neckline was elegant, the waist fitted, the skirt falling in soft sparkling folds.
Isabella stared at herself in the mirror.
Old comments immediately returned.
Too much.
Too fitted.
Too noticeable.
Dominic appeared behind her.
His expression stopped her thoughts.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then:
“Wow.”
She laughed nervously.
“That sophisticated?”
“I had a longer speech.”
“What happened?”
“I forgot English.”
She smiled.
He walked toward her.
“You look beautiful.”
“Do I look like I belong beside you?”
Dominic frowned.
“No.”
Her face fell.
He continued.
“You belong wherever you decide to stand. I’m lucky if it happens to be beside me.”
She stared at him.
“You practiced that.”
“No.”
“You absolutely practiced that.”
“Maybe in the elevator.”
She laughed.
He kissed her forehead.
Then they went downstairs.
The Serrano estate stood forty minutes outside Manhattan.
Isabella had attended countless dinners there.
She had never before arrived feeling like she was walking toward a trial.
Dominic’s hand remained at the small of her back.
When they entered the dining room, conversations stopped.
Aunt Serafina looked at Isabella’s dress.
Then at Dominic.
Her mouth tightened.
Celeste looked relieved.
Bianca looked ashamed.
Victoria Serrano sat at the head of the table.
Her gaze settled on Isabella.
“You wore it.”
Isabella’s heart pounded.
“Yes.”
Victoria nodded once.
“It suits you.”
Dominic did not sit.
“Mother.”
“Dominic.”
“Why did Serrano Holdings pay photographers to follow my wife?”
Every person at the table froze.
Victoria placed down her napkin.
“Sit.”
“No.”
“Dominic.”
“Answer me.”
Isabella wanted to disappear.
Then she remembered why she was there.
She straightened.
Victoria noticed.
“Very well,” Victoria said. “I hired an investigator.”
“A photographer.”
“An investigator who sometimes photographs subjects.”
“Why?”
Victoria looked at Isabella.
“Because someone was contacting her.”
Isabella blinked.
“What?”
Dominic stepped forward.
“Explain.”
“Three months ago, security flagged messages sent to Isabella’s social accounts.”
“I never saw them.”
“Because they were intercepted.”
Dominic’s expression darkened.
“You intercepted my wife’s messages without telling her?”
“I was protecting her.”
A bitter laugh escaped Isabella.
Everyone seemed to use that word immediately before doing something cruel.
Victoria continued.
“The messages contained details about this family that outsiders should not know.”
“Such as?”
“Your schedules. Properties. Charities. Your wedding.”
Dominic's attention sharpened.
“Threats?”
“Not directly.”
Victoria opened a folder.
She slid several printed messages across the table.
Isabella read them.
You don't belong with them.
Ask Dominic what happened to his first engagement.
Ask Victoria why she chose you.
Isabella looked up.
“Chose me?”
Dominic’s expression changed.
“I didn’t have a first engagement.”
Victoria said nothing.
Isabella looked at Dominic.
“I know.”
Then at Victoria.
“What does that mean?”
Serafina interrupted.
“This isn't appropriate dinner conversation.”
Dominic turned.
“You don’t get to determine what is appropriate anymore.”
Serafina stiffened.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
Victoria raised a hand.
“Enough.”
“No,” Dominic said. “Not enough.”
He looked around the table.
“For months, Isabella was made to believe she embarrassed this family.”
Nobody answered.
“Apparently all of you noticed.”
Bianca looked down.
Celeste whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Dominic turned toward his aunt.
“Serafina?”
She lifted her chin.
“I never lied to her.”
“You told my wife she was an embarrassment.”
“I told her society is cruel.”
“You were society being cruel.”
Serafina’s cheeks reddened.
“You cannot expect everyone to pretend obesity is fashionable.”
Silence.
Isabella felt the words strike precisely where they were intended.
Dominic stepped forward.
But Isabella touched his arm.
“No.”
He looked at her.
She shook her head.
Then she faced Serafina.
“For six months, I let you make me feel ashamed every time I ate dessert.”
Serafina looked uncomfortable.
“I let you convince me that every photograph was a threat because people might see my body exactly as it is.”
No one moved.
“I returned dresses my husband chose because I thought loving them made me foolish.”
Her voice grew steadier.
“But the most embarrassing thing at this table isn't my body.”
Serafina stared at her.
“It’s an adult woman who needs someone else to feel small before she can feel important.”
Celeste covered a smile.
Dominic did not.
He looked openly proud.
Serafina pushed back her chair.
Victoria spoke before she could stand.
“Sit down.”
Serafina obeyed.
Victoria turned to Isabella.
“I owe you an apology.”
Dominic looked surprised.
So did everyone else.
Victoria continued.
“I should have told you about the messages. And when I realized someone was watching you, I should have protected you without controlling you.”
Isabella swallowed.
“Why did you choose me?”
Victoria went still.
“That message said you chose me.”
Dominic stared at his mother.
“Answer her.”
Victoria’s eyes moved around the table.
Then she said, “Because twelve years ago, before you met Dominic, I knew your father.”
Isabella felt the room tilt.
“My father died when I was nineteen.”
“I know.”
“How?”
Victoria closed the folder.
“He worked for us.”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
“In what capacity?”
Victoria did not answer immediately.
“Mother.”
“He was an accountant.”
Isabella stared at her.
“My father was a high school math teacher.”
“He became one after leaving us.”
“Leaving what?”
Victoria glanced at Dominic.
“The organization.”
The word sat between them.
Dominic’s family's legitimate businesses were extensive.
Hotels.
Construction.
Import companies.
But everyone in New York knew another version of the Serrano name.
A darker one.
A history Dominic had spent years trying to drag into legitimate territory.
Isabella shook her head.
“No.”
Victoria reached into the folder.
She removed an old photograph.
A younger Victoria stood beside a man Isabella recognized instantly.
Her father.
Behind them was another man.
Dominic's late father.
Isabella’s hands trembled.
“Why didn't anyone tell me?”
“Because your father asked us never to involve you.”
“Involve me in what?”
Victoria slid another paper across the table.
It was a ledger page.
Her father's handwriting filled the margins.
Dominic read it.
Then froze.
Isabella noticed.
“What?”
Dominic slowly looked at his mother.
“This isn't accounting.”
Victoria said nothing.
“What is it?” Isabella demanded.
Dominic turned the page.
There were names.
Dates.
Payments.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Bellini.
Marco’s family.
Isabella stared.
“What did my father know?”
Victoria whispered, “Enough to put very dangerous people in prison.”
Dominic’s phone vibrated.
Marco.
He answered.
“Where are you?”
The attorney’s voice was breathless.
“Dominic, get Isabella out of the estate.”
Dominic stood.
“Why?”
“I found out who has been sending the messages.”
“Who?”
A loud crash came from the hallway.
The lights went out.
Someone screamed.
Dominic grabbed Isabella’s hand.
Then, in the darkness, a man’s voice came from the doorway.
“Isabella.”
She froze.
May you like
Because she recognized that voice.
It belonged to the father she had buried nineteen years ago.
