Chapter 2 - What His Mother Knew
“Vivian.”
Isabella Serrano did not raise her voice.
She didn't need to.
For more than thirty years, the Serrano family had learned to recognize the difference between Isabella speaking and Isabella issuing a command.
Dominic moved before Vivian could.
He stepped half a pace forward.
Not aggressively.
Just enough to put himself between his wife and his mother.
Isabella noticed.
Her gaze shifted to him.
“Dominic.”
“Mother.”
Marcella entered behind her.
Unlike Isabella's careful composure, Marcella looked irritated.
Her eyes dropped to the purple gown.
Then to the broken hanger in Dominic's hand.
Her face changed.
Very slightly.
Dominic saw it.
“You recognize this?”
He held up the hanger.
Marcella frowned.
“No.”
“You didn't read it.”
“I can see scratches.”
“Four words.”
She said nothing.
Dominic turned the hanger toward her.
YOU DON'T BELONG HERE.
Marcella's lips tightened.
“How childish.”
Vivian whispered, “Can we please leave?”
Dominic looked at her.
She wasn't merely embarrassed anymore.
She was afraid.
That was the moment he stopped treating the situation like family cruelty.
Cruel people wanted a reaction.
Fear suggested something deeper.
Dominic turned to his mother.
“What did you tell my wife before our wedding?”
Isabella's calm expression faltered.
Celeste inhaled behind him.
Marcella looked toward Isabella.
That was enough.
“You did say something.”
Isabella removed her gloves slowly.
“This isn't the place.”
“You all seem very interested in telling me where conversations should happen.”
“Because you are angry.”
“I haven't become angry yet.”
The boutique went silent.
Even Marcella seemed to understand the warning.
Isabella looked at Vivian.
“Did you tell him?”
Vivian shook her head.
Dominic turned toward her.
“Tell me what?”
“Nothing.”
“Vivian.”
His wife backed away.
He stopped himself from following.
He did not want her to feel cornered by him too.
Isabella spoke.
“The night before your wedding, Vivian came to see me.”
Dominic kept his eyes on his wife.
“Why?”
Vivian stared down.
“Because I was scared.”
“Of marrying me?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
She looked at his mother.
Isabella answered.
“Of becoming a Serrano.”
Marcella gave a quiet scoff.
Dominic's eyes snapped toward her.
She stopped.
Isabella continued.
“Vivian knew what the family represented. The scrutiny. The expectations. The attention.”
“And what did you say?”
“I told her the truth.”
Vivian's eyes filled again.
Dominic felt his stomach tighten.
“What truth?”
Isabella's voice remained calm.
“That this family can be unforgiving.”
“No.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“What did you tell her about me?”
His mother's silence lasted too long.
“Mother.”
“I told her there would always be people who believed you could have married differently.”
Vivian turned away.
Dominic stared at Isabella.
“Differently.”
“Dominic—”
“Say what you mean.”
Isabella's expression hardened.
“A woman born into our world.”
“And?”
“A woman prepared for it.”
“And?”
His mother looked toward Vivian.
Vivian folded her arms across herself.
Dominic's voice dropped.
“And?”
Isabella finally said it.
“A woman who looked like people expected your wife to look.”
The words landed softly.
That made them worse.
Dominic glanced at Vivian.
She didn't seem shocked.
Of course not.
She had heard it before.
Years before.
The foundation hadn't cracked in the past few months.
The damage had started before their wedding.
“You told her that?”
“I was trying to prepare her.”
“You were preparing her to believe she wasn't enough.”
“I was warning her that others might be cruel.”
“You became the first one.”
Isabella's face tightened.
“That is not fair.”
Dominic almost laughed.
“Fair?”
Vivian touched his arm.
“Please.”
He looked at her.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because the next day you married me.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything.”
She finally looked into his eyes.
“You looked so happy.”
“I was.”
“And I didn't want to destroy that.”
“You wouldn't have.”
“I thought if I told you what your mother said, you'd have to choose.”
“I already chose.”
Isabella flinched.
Dominic didn't look away from Vivian.
“I chose when I asked you.”
Vivian's face crumpled for one second before she controlled it.
“You don't understand.”
“Then make me.”
She took a breath.
“Your mother wasn't cruel to me afterward. She actually tried.”
Isabella's eyes softened.
“But what she said stayed.”
Vivian pressed a hand against her chest.
“Every room I entered, I wondered who was thinking it.”
Dominic said nothing.
“Every photograph, every dinner, every woman standing near you—I wondered if people were comparing us.”
He stepped closer.
“You never needed to compete with anyone.”
“I know that now.”
“No. You know me saying it now.”
Vivian nodded.
That distinction hurt both of them.
Marcella sighed.
“Are we really going to pretend none of this is practical?”
Dominic slowly turned.
Vivian stiffened.
Marcella continued anyway.
“Your position comes with expectations.”
“My position?”
“You represent this family.”
“And Vivian is my wife.”
“Yes.”
“Which makes her part of what I represent.”
Marcella's eyes narrowed.
“Exactly.”
Dominic almost smiled.
It wasn't kind.
“Then insulting her is insulting me.”
Marcella hesitated.
“No one said—”
“You told her a gown needed stronger seams.”
Marcella's face flushed.
“That was a joke.”
“She stopped eating dessert at family dinners.”
Marcella went still.
Dominic hadn't planned to say it.
He had only realized it moments earlier.
Once he did, other memories followed.
Vivian ordering salad while everyone else ate pasta.
Vivian claiming she had already eaten before Sunday lunch.
Vivian leaving half her dinner untouched.
Vivian asking if a jacket made her “look ridiculous.”
She had never used to ask that.
Dominic felt sick.
“What else?”
Nobody answered.
He looked at Bianca.
“What else?”
She swallowed.
“There were comments.”
“What comments?”
“Nothing serious.”
Vivian suddenly laughed.
Everyone looked at her.
Tears ran down her cheeks.
“Nothing serious.”
She repeated it.
Then she faced Bianca.
“Was it nothing when you sent me that picture?”
Dominic's head turned.
“What picture?”
Bianca went pale.
Vivian realized she had said too much.
Dominic approached Bianca.
“What picture?”
“It was stupid.”
“Show me.”
“I deleted it.”
“Show me.”
“I said I deleted it.”
Celeste interrupted.
“I have it.”
Everyone turned.
Bianca stared at her.
“What?”
Celeste pulled out her phone.
“You sent it to the family group.”
Dominic's expression changed.
“The family group?”
He had one family chat on his phone.
Celeste shook her head.
“Not the one you're in.”
Silence.
Dominic looked around the room.
“There is another family group.”
No one answered.
He held out his hand.
Celeste gave him the phone.
A photograph filled the screen.
It showed Dominic and Vivian leaving a charity dinner months earlier.
Vivian wore a fitted black dress.
Someone had circled her waist in red.
Underneath, Bianca had written:
SOMEBODY TELL DOM OUR PHOTOGRAPHERS DON'T HAVE WIDE-ANGLE LENSES THAT STRONG.
Replies followed.
Laughing emojis.
Marcella:
BE NICE.
Then another message.
BUT MAYBE BLACK WAS THE WRONG COLOR.
Then someone else:
AT LEAST DOMINIC LOOKS GOOD.
Dominic stared at the screen.
The room seemed to shrink around him.
Vivian spoke quietly.
“I wasn't supposed to see that.”
“How did you?”
“Someone forwarded it.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
He looked at the unknown number on his phone.
Someone had been watching.
Someone inside the family was sending Vivian things.
But why?
To help her?
Or to hurt her more?
Dominic scrolled.
There were dozens of messages.
Photographs.
Comments.
Some mild.
Some vicious.
Some from names he had trusted his entire life.
Then he saw one from his mother.
Isabella:
Enough. Vivian is Dominic's wife. Whatever you think privately, stop discussing her here.
Dominic looked up.
Isabella held his gaze.
“I told them to stop.”
“After how long?”
She didn't answer.
“How long did you watch?”
“Dominic.”
“How long?”
“Several weeks.”
Vivian whispered, “You knew?”
Isabella turned toward her.
“I didn't understand how bad it had become.”
“You knew there was a group.”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me?”
“I was ashamed.”
Vivian nodded slowly.
For the first time, disappointment replaced fear.
“That might actually be worse.”
Isabella's composure cracked.
“Vivian—”
“No.”
Dominic's wife stepped backward.
“You don't get to say you protected me because you eventually told them to stop.”
Nobody spoke.
Vivian picked up her purse.
Dominic touched her arm gently.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“I'll come.”
“No.”
The answer surprised him.
“Viv.”
“I love you.”
Her voice broke.
“But right now, I can't tell where your family ends and where you begin.”
The words cut deeper than anything Marcella had said.
Dominic let go.
He could command everyone else.
He would not command his wife to stay.
Vivian walked toward the door.
Celeste followed her.
Dominic remained still until they disappeared.
Then he turned to the room.
“Every person in that group.”
Marcella crossed her arms.
“What about them?”
“They are coming to my house tonight.”
Isabella frowned.
“Dominic, don't turn this into a tribunal.”
“It already was one.”
He looked at Bianca's phone.
“Except my wife was the only person who didn't know she was on trial.”
His phone vibrated again.
Another anonymous message.
He opened it.
A photograph appeared.
Vivian.
Taken only seconds ago.
She was outside the boutique walking toward Dominic's car.
Celeste was beside her.
The message underneath contained six words.
THE GROUP CHAT ISN'T THE SECRET.
Then another image loaded.
It was a photograph of a signed document.
At the bottom was Vivian's name.
Above it were the words:
POSTNUPTIAL AGREEMENT.
Dominic stared at the date.
Three months ago.
He had never seen it.
May you like
A final message appeared.
ASK VIVIAN WHO MADE HER SIGN IT.
