Chapter 2 - The Voice Behind the Door
Mara stepped out of the dressing room with a stranger’s phone pressed against her ear.
Dominic stopped.
There was no one behind her.
Only a voice coming through the speaker.
“Dominic.”
Mara’s face was white.
Dominic crossed the room and took the phone from her hand.
“Who is this?”
Silence.
Then a woman laughed softly.
Not warmly.
“Ask your sister.”
The call ended.
Dominic stared at the screen.
UNKNOWN CALLER.
He immediately checked the phone itself.
It wasn’t Mara’s.
Cheap black casing. No contacts. No wallpaper. No passcode.
A burner.
“Where did you get this?”
Mara hugged herself.
“It was in the dressing room.”
“When?”
“Just now.”
“Where?”
“Inside the plum dress.”
Dominic’s eyes hardened.
The same gown he had personally carried home.
The same gown that had never left his possession after they departed the boutique.
He turned toward the bedroom.
Celeste stood in the doorway.
She had followed him upstairs.
The moment she saw the phone, every trace of color disappeared from her face.
Dominic noticed.
“So you do know something.”
Celeste shook her head.
“No.”
“The woman told me to ask you.”
“I don't know who called.”
“That wasn't my question.”
Mara stepped between them.
“Stop.”
Dominic looked at his wife.
She had wiped away her tears, but her breathing remained uneven.
“This is exactly why I didn't tell you.”
He lowered his voice.
“Tell me what?”
Mara closed her eyes.
Celeste said, “Mara, don't.”
Dominic turned slowly.
His sister had just made her second mistake of the night.
“What shouldn't my wife tell me?”
Celeste looked at Mara.
Mara looked back.
Something passed silently between them.
Dominic hated it.
Not because he needed to control every conversation around him.
Because his wife and sister clearly shared knowledge about something affecting Mara—and both had decided he was the one person who shouldn't know.
“Mara.”
She sat on the edge of the bed.
For several seconds, she stared at her hands.
“It started two months ago.”
Dominic remained standing.
“What started?”
“The comments.”
His jaw tightened.
“What comments?”
Mara hesitated.
“Little things.”
“Give me one.”
“Dominic—”
“One.”
She looked at him.
“At your mother's birthday dinner, someone asked whether I planned to wear black to the foundation gala.”
“Why?”
“I said I hadn't decided.”
“And?”
“They said black would be... safer.”
Dominic said nothing.
Mara continued reluctantly.
“A week later, your aunt sent me the name of a stylist.”
“Which aunt?”
“Dominic.”
“Which aunt?”
“Lucia.”
He stored the name.
“What did the stylist say?”
“I never called.”
“Good.”
“That isn't the point.”
“Then tell me the point.”
Mara stood.
“The point is that none of it sounded terrible by itself.”
Dominic frowned.
“Then it kept happening.”
She walked toward the dressing table.
“At lunch, someone joked that Serrano women had to look perfect in photographs. At the club, Bianca told me photographers were cruel to women who were...” She stopped.
“Who were what?”
Mara looked down.
“Bigger.”
The word landed harder because of how quietly she said it.
Dominic's expression became unreadable.
Celeste moved farther into the room.
“I told Bianca to stop.”
Dominic looked at her.
“You knew?”
“I knew about some of it.”
“How much?”
“Not all.”
“That's convenient.”
“Dominic, I defended her.”
Mara turned sharply.
“Sometimes.”
Celeste froze.
The room changed.
Dominic looked between them.
Mara's eyes filled again, but this time the emotion wasn't shame.
It was anger.
“You defended me when they were obvious,” Mara said. “Then when they weren't, you laughed.”
Celeste stared at her.
“I never laughed at you.”
“You laughed with them.”
“I didn't understand—”
“You didn't want to understand.”
“Mara—”
“Do you know what the worst part was?”
Celeste said nothing.
Mara's voice shook.
“They never insulted me directly.”
Dominic watched her carefully.
“They were smarter than that. They talked about dresses. Photographs. Designers. Chairs. Portion sizes. Camera angles.”
She gave a bitter little laugh.
“Do you know how humiliating it is to spend three weeks wondering whether a chair at your husband's family dinner is going to be too small?”
Dominic's face changed.
Mara saw it.
Immediately, she regretted saying it.
“That's why I didn't tell you.”
“Who said something about a chair?”
“It doesn't matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“Everything matters to you when you're angry.”
“Correct.”
“And then people disappear from Christmas dinner.”
Celeste almost smiled.
Dominic didn't.
“Who?”
Mara rubbed her forehead.
“Please stop asking for names like you're preparing an execution list.”
“I'm preparing a seating chart.”
That got the smallest sound from her.
Half laugh.
Half sob.
Dominic walked to her.
This time, when he touched her hands, she didn't pull away.
“You should have told me.”
“I know.”
“No.”
He waited until she looked at him.
“You should have been able to tell me.”
That distinction broke something in her.
Her mouth trembled.
Dominic pulled her against him.
For weeks he had watched his wife become quieter.
She stopped asking what he thought of her clothes.
Stopped changing in front of him.
Stopped coming downstairs when his relatives visited unexpectedly.
He had noticed all of it.
He had simply misunderstood it.
He had assumed she was tired.
Busy.
Stressed about the gala.
He hadn't considered that every time he sent her another gown, he might have been unknowingly handing her another test she believed she could fail.
Mara pressed her face into his chest.
“I loved the emerald one.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
The second dress.
“You said you hated the sleeves.”
“I lied.”
“I know that now.”
“And the copper one.”
“The sixth?”
She nodded.
“That was my favorite.”
“Then why return it?”
Her grip tightened on his shirt.
“Because I tried it on.”
Dominic waited.
Mara whispered, “And someone took a picture.”
The photographs.
Dominic's eyes opened.
He looked toward Celeste.
She was staring at the floor.
“Who?”
“I don't know,” Mara said.
“The fitting-room photograph came from inside the boutique.”
“I know.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“No.”
“Did anyone enter?”
“Not while I was changing.”
“What happened afterward?”
Mara stepped back.
“My phone buzzed.”
“With what?”
“A message.”
“Show me.”
“I deleted it.”
Dominic's expression tightened.
“Why?”
“Because I didn't want you finding it.”
“What did it say?”
Mara looked at Celeste.
Again.
Dominic saw.
Celeste whispered, “Tell him.”
Mara laughed without humor.
“Now?”
Celeste swallowed.
“Yes.”
Mara faced Dominic.
“The message said, ‘Imagine this photograph beside Dominic's.’”
His face became still.
“And then?”
“Another message came.”
“What did it say?”
She hesitated.
“‘He'll see what everyone else sees.’”
Dominic turned away.
He walked toward the window.
Not because he needed distance from Mara.
Because he needed several seconds before speaking.
Dominic Serrano had spent years cultivating the ability to remain calm while other people panicked.
Anger was useful only when controlled.
But this wasn't business.
Someone had watched his wife undress.
Photographed her without permission.
Used the photograph to humiliate her.
Then convinced her to hide it.
That wasn't gossip anymore.
It was calculated.
“Dominic,” Celeste said carefully.
He turned.
“Give me your phone.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“Your phone.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever did this knows enough about my household to put a burner phone inside a dress I personally brought home.”
Mara looked at the plum gown.
Celeste slowly reached into her handbag.
She handed Dominic her phone.
He unlocked it.
She protested.
“You don't know my code.”
“I paid for the phone.”
“That doesn't explain—”
“Your birthday.”
Celeste stared at him.
“Seriously?”
“Security isn't your strength.”
He opened her recent messages.
Nothing obvious.
Then he opened the family group chat.
Mara immediately looked away.
Dominic noticed.
He scrolled.
Most of it was ordinary.
Dinner plans.
Photographs.
Foundation logistics.
Complaints about relatives.
Then he found a photograph of Mara.
Taken at a restaurant.
She was laughing, unaware of the camera.
Someone had zoomed in on her waist.
Dominic stopped scrolling.
The message beneath it was from Bianca.
Maybe burgundy isn't her color.
Aunt Lucia had replied:
It's not the color.
Then a laughing reaction.
Dominic's thumb stopped.
The room went silent.
Celeste whispered, “I didn't respond.”
He looked at her.
“You stayed in the group.”
Her face fell.
Dominic scrolled farther.
Another photograph.
Mara getting out of a car.
Another comment.
Another joke disguised as concern.
Then one message changed everything.
It had been sent six weeks earlier by a contact saved as Mother.
Enough. Dominic loves her. Stop this before he sees it.
Dominic stared.
His mother knew.
He looked at Celeste.
“She knew?”
Celeste nodded reluctantly.
“How long?”
“I don't know.”
“Wrong answer.”
“A month. Maybe longer.”
“And she didn't tell me?”
“She was trying to stop it quietly.”
“Quietly.”
Dominic repeated the word as though testing how much he hated it.
Mara touched his arm.
“Your mother did speak to them.”
“And apparently that solved everything.”
“No.”
Mara's voice was gentle.
“It didn't.”
Dominic handed Celeste's phone back.
“Call Bianca.”
Celeste stiffened.
“Now?”
“Now.”
“It's almost midnight.”
“I promise she's awake.”
Celeste hesitated, then called.
Speakerphone.
One ring.
Two.
Bianca answered.
“Celeste?”
“It's me.”
“What happened?”
Dominic gestured for Celeste to continue.
She swallowed.
“I need to ask you something.”
Silence.
“What?”
“Did you write on the hanger?”
Bianca immediately hung up.
Nobody moved.
Dominic looked at Celeste.
Celeste looked horrified.
Mara whispered, “That doesn't mean she did it.”
Dominic's phone vibrated.
He checked it.
Security.
One of the guards downstairs had sent him a message.
Mr. Serrano, Ms. Bianca Moretti has arrived at the front gate.
Dominic stared at the screen.
Celeste whispered, “She was just on the phone.”
“I know.”
“She couldn't have gotten here that fast.”
“I know.”
Mara's expression changed.
Dominic called downstairs.
His head of security answered immediately.
“Boss.”
“Don't open the gate.”
A pause.
“Sir?”
“You heard me.”
“Yes.”
“Is she alone?”
Another pause.
“No.”
Dominic's eyes narrowed.
“Who is with her?”
“We can't see. Passenger is sitting in the back.”
“Keep the gate locked.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dominic ended the call.
Celeste moved toward the window.
“Why would Bianca come here?”
Dominic was already heading downstairs.
Mara followed.
“No.”
He turned.
“No?”
“You're not leaving me upstairs after someone put a phone in my dress.”
He considered arguing.
Then decided she was right.
“Stay behind me.”
Mara rolled her eyes.
“I married you, Dominic. I didn't enlist.”
Despite everything, he almost smiled.
Celeste followed them.
Downstairs, two security men were waiting.
Dominic took the tablet showing the front gate camera.
A black SUV sat outside.
Bianca stood beside it.
She was still wearing the burgundy suit from the boutique.
She kept looking behind her.
The rear passenger door remained closed.
Dominic activated the intercom.
“Bianca.”
She jumped.
“Dominic, let me in.”
“Who's in the car?”
“No one.”
He looked at the screen.
“You've known me too long to lie that badly.”
Her face tightened.
“Please.”
“Who wrote on the hanger?”
Bianca looked toward the SUV.
“Let me inside first.”
“Answer.”
“I can't.”
“Then leave.”
“No!”
Her panic was real.
Mara stepped closer to the monitor.
“Dominic.”
He saw it too.
Bianca wasn't frightened of him.
She was frightened of the car.
“Walk to the gate,” Dominic ordered.
Bianca did.
“Leave your phone.”
She dropped it.
“Handbag.”
She dropped that too.
“Now tell me who's in the SUV.”
Bianca looked directly at the camera.
Her lips trembled.
“I thought it was just about the dresses.”
Dominic felt Mara stiffen beside him.
“What does that mean?”
“I thought they wanted her out of the gala photographs.”
“Who is they?”
Bianca started crying.
“I didn't know they were taking pictures inside the fitting room.”
Mara covered her mouth.
Dominic's voice became colder.
“Who?”
Bianca looked behind her.
The SUV's rear door opened.
Only a few inches.
Bianca saw it.
Her face collapsed.
“Dominic, open the gate.”
“Name.”
“Please.”
“Give me the name.”
A hand appeared around the edge of the SUV door.
Bianca backed toward the gate.
“I never meant for Mara to get hurt.”
Dominic's security chief reached for his weapon.
Dominic watched the monitor.
“Bianca.”
She pressed both palms against the iron gate.
“Your family didn't start this.”
Dominic went still.
“What?”
Bianca looked directly into the camera.
“Someone wanted Mara to believe they did.”
Behind her, the SUV door opened wider.
A woman stepped out.
Mara gasped.
Celeste dropped her phone.
Dominic stared at the screen.
He knew that face.
The woman walked toward Bianca and raised her eyes to the security camera.
May you like
Then she said the one name nobody in the Serrano family had spoken in twelve years.
“Dominic... ask Mara about Elena.”
