Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Opened the BoxBianca DeLuca had always been beautiful in ways that made people lower their defenses.
She knew exactly when to smile.
When to touch a man's arm.
When to look impressed.
And when to make a powerful person believe that helping her was his own idea.
But that evening, standing in her River North penthouse with Adrian Romano shouting questions through the phone, Bianca discovered a problem beauty couldn't solve.
He was no longer listening to her.
“Did you open Elena's package?” Adrian repeated.
Bianca walked toward the bar.
“Why are you interrogating me about a gift?”
“Because I asked you a question.”
“And I'm asking why it matters.”
“Did you see what was inside?”
Bianca poured herself a drink.
Her hand wasn't quite steady.
“I saw a little box.”
“Did you open it?”
“Adrian, please. I was trying to protect your time.”
He stared at the wall.
“My time.”
“You were negotiating a major acquisition. Elena knew that. And still she kept sending little domestic surprises to the office.”
“Was there a note?”
“I don't remember.”
“Was there an ultrasound?”
The silence that followed was different from the others.
For the first time, Bianca seemed unable to find the correct tone.
Adrian's voice dropped.
“You knew.”
“Listen to me.”
“You knew my wife was pregnant.”
“I didn't know whether it was real.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
“What?”
“There was a photograph. Some medical image. People can misunderstand those things.”
“You saw a photograph of my unborn child, and you decided it wasn't worth telling me?”
“Adrian, we need to be reasonable.”
He almost laughed.
Reasonable.
For months, Bianca had convinced him that Elena was unreasonable.
Too quiet.
Too traditional.
Too concerned with schedules and family obligations.
Bianca, on the other hand, understood his world.
She knew which investors mattered.
She wore designer suits to breakfast.
She could discuss debt structures over champagne.
She called him brilliant even when he was exhausted.
And whenever Elena asked him to slow down, Bianca told him his wife was holding him back.
Now Adrian wondered how many things he'd believed simply because Bianca had said them confidently.
“Did Elena know you'd opened it?”
“No.”
“Did you tell anyone else?”
“Of course not.”
He didn't believe her.
“Stay away from Elena.”
Bianca stiffened.
“Excuse me?”
“Don't call her. Don't message her. Don't send anyone to speak to her.”
“Adrian, don't overreact.”
“I'm not overreacting.”
He looked at the yellow shoe on his nightstand.
“For once in my life, I'm reacting to the right thing.”
Then he hung up.
Bianca stood motionless.
After a moment, she opened a separate phone and called her father.
Victor DeLuca answered on the second ring.
“Is it done?”
“There's a problem.”
“What kind?”
“Elena's pregnant.”
Victor said nothing.
“Dad?”
“How far along?”
“I don't know.”
“Does Adrian know?”
“He knows now.”
Victor cursed under his breath.
Then his voice hardened.
“Listen carefully, Bianca. The pregnancy changes nothing about what we need.”
“Adrian's furious.”
“Let him be furious. Men like Romano don't stay furious at women they believe they need.”
“He knows about the box.”
“Then you were protecting his concentration during a sensitive business period. That's the story.”
Bianca looked at the Chicago skyline.
“And if he doesn't believe me?”
Victor answered without hesitation.
“Then we remind him what's at stake in the Rivergate deal.”
The next morning, Elena woke at six-fifteen.
For a few confused seconds, she thought she was still in the mansion.
She almost reached across the bed for Adrian.
Then she saw the sloped ceiling, the old dresser, and the crack in the plaster shaped like a crooked lightning bolt.
She was home.
Her childhood home.
And Adrian wasn't there.
The realization hurt.
It also relieved her.
She sat up slowly.
Morning sickness had been worse lately.
The doctor said that was common, although exhaustion and stress certainly weren't helping.
Elena made it to the bathroom before the nausea overwhelmed her.
When she emerged, Mara was waiting outside with a glass of water and two plain crackers.
“Before you say anything,” Mara announced, “I'm not your doctor. I just remember what worked when I was pregnant.”
Elena smiled weakly.
“You're supposed to be at work.”
“I'm going in late.”
“Mara.”
“I'm the regional manager. I can tell myself I'm late.”
Mara followed her into the kitchen.
The room had pale green cabinets their father had painted himself.
A ceramic rooster watched from the windowsill.
Elena had hated that rooster when she was sixteen.
Now she almost wanted to hug it.
Mara put the kettle on.
“Adrian called me last night.”
Elena stopped.
“What did he say?”
“He wanted your address.”
“Did you give it to him?”
“No.”
“Thank you.”
“He sounded awful.”
Elena looked down.
“I imagine he did.”
“He said he didn't know you were pregnant.”
“He didn't.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Yes.”
Mara studied her.
That answer seemed to surprise her.
Elena took a cracker.
“I know exactly what Adrian looks like when he's lying. Last night, he wasn't.”
“Does that change anything?”
Elena considered the question.
Then she shook her head.
“It changes what he knows. It doesn't change what he did.”
Mara leaned against the counter.
“Good.”
Elena gave her a tired smile.
“I'm not sure how good any of this is.”
“It doesn't have to be good today.”
For a while, the sisters sat quietly.
Then Mara reached across the table.
“Ellie, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“If Adrian had come home that first night, opened the box, and been excited about the baby, would you have stayed?”
Elena looked toward the window.
A neighbor was walking a golden retriever beneath the trees.
Ordinary life continued outside.
Children went to school.
Coffee shops opened.
People caught trains.
Her marriage had collapsed, and the world hadn't even noticed.
“Yes,” she admitted. “I probably would have.”
“Even after Bianca?”
“I didn't know everything about Bianca then.”
Mara waited.
“I wanted to believe he was tired. That he'd lost his way. That once he knew about the baby, he'd remember the family we always said we wanted.”
“And now?”
Elena placed one hand on her stomach.
“Now I don't want my child growing up believing that love means begging someone to come home.”
At ten o'clock, Elena walked into the offices of Park & Associates.
Evelyn Park greeted her with a cup of ginger tea.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like my life exploded, but nobody remembered to cancel the morning traffic.”
Evelyn smiled gently.
“That's a fair description.”
They sat across from each other.
Evelyn was in her mid-forties, with sharp eyes and an ability to make complicated legal problems sound manageable without pretending they were simple.
She had handled difficult divorces before.
But Elena Romano's case was unusual.
Most spouses of billionaires fought over assets.
Elena had explicitly instructed Evelyn not to seek Adrian's separate property.
Her prenuptial agreement already identified their respective premarital assets, while eight years of marriage had created other financial issues Evelyn was determined not to ignore.
Elena wanted to waive or settle those claims without turning the proceedings into a public spectacle.
And she was pregnant.
“Elena,” Evelyn began, “I've reviewed the agreement again.”
“I know what it says.”
“Then you also know I have an obligation to make certain your decisions are informed. You may choose not to pursue wealth, but you shouldn't surrender rights merely because you're hurt.”
“I'm not trying to prove anything.”
“Then tell me why you're walking away from potentially significant marital assets.”
Elena took a breath.
“Because I have savings. I have my father's house. I have a profession I can return to. I don't want three years of litigation teaching my child that money matters more than peace.”
Evelyn nodded slowly.
“That is a legitimate choice. We'll still obtain the necessary disclosures, and any agreement must be voluntary and properly documented.”
“Fine.”
“Now, about the baby.”
Elena straightened.
“I want sole custody.”
“I understand what you want. But Illinois courts deal with the allocation of parental responsibilities and parenting time. We cannot obtain a custody order for an unborn child. After the birth, the court will consider the baby's best interests, and Adrian has parental rights that won't disappear because he was unfaithful.”
Elena's eyes filled.
“I know.”
“I'm not saying this to discourage you. I'm saying we'll build a realistic plan. You can seek primary parenting time, medical decision-making authority, appropriate boundaries, and a schedule that reflects the child's needs.”
“What if he turns the baby into another thing he owns?”
“Then we document conduct, not assumptions.”
Elena looked at the tea in her hands.
“He's used to having everything arranged for him.”
“Children don't come with executive assistants.”
Despite herself, Elena laughed.
Evelyn leaned forward.
“Let me ask something difficult. Are you afraid Adrian would physically hurt you?”
“No.”
“Has he threatened you?”
“No.”
“Do you believe he's capable of loving this child?”
Elena's throat tightened.
“Yes.”
That was the terrible part.
She did believe Adrian could love their baby.
She simply didn't know whether he understood that loving someone required showing up when it was inconvenient.
Evelyn made a note.
“Then our goal is to protect the baby without manufacturing a war.”
Elena nodded.
And for the first time since leaving the mansion, she felt that someone was listening to what she actually wanted.
Meanwhile, Adrian was learning how much of his life had been built on things Elena did without asking for recognition.
At seven-thirty that morning, he had opened the kitchen pantry looking for breakfast.
There were expensive imported ingredients, specialty oils, and enough coffee to supply a small hotel.
But he couldn't remember which foods Elena had told him to avoid before taking his medication.
His prescription bottle was nearly empty.
The pharmacy informed him that Elena had been coordinating renewals through his physician's office.
The housekeeper didn't know the details.
His assistant knew his meeting schedule but not his medical routine.
For eight years, Adrian had lived inside a carefully managed world.
Now he was discovering its foundation had a name.
Elena.
He called his physician.
Then he called the pharmacy.
He arranged his own prescription renewal, following the instructions on the label and confirming the schedule with his medical team.
It took twenty minutes.
He had spent years acting as though those twenty minutes were too important to waste.
At noon, Miles entered his office.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“Have you eaten?”
“No.”
“Then eat.”
Adrian glanced at him.
Miles folded his arms.
“Funny how annoying it is when someone cares whether you eat.”
Adrian didn't respond.
Miles sat.
“What's happening with Elena?”
“She won't see me.”
“Can you blame her?”
“No.”
That answer made Miles pause.
Then Adrian opened his desk drawer.
He had brought the ultrasound photograph to work.
He placed it on the table between them.
Miles looked at it.
His expression softened.
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“That's your baby.”
Adrian rubbed his face.
“Apparently.”
“Do you want to be a father?”
Adrian stared at him.
“Of course.”
“Because there's a difference between wanting a child and wanting to win an argument about a child.”
Adrian looked away.
Miles continued.
“I'm saying this as your friend. You can't treat Elena like a hostile acquisition.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Adrian didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, “Bianca opened the announcement box.”
Miles froze.
“What?”
“She knew Elena was pregnant.”
“And didn't tell you?”
“No.”
Miles exhaled.
“Adrian, that isn't normal.”
“I know.”
“Did you ask why?”
“She said she was protecting my concentration.”
Miles looked at him for a long moment.
“Does that explanation sound familiar?”
Adrian frowned.
“Every time Elena tried to speak to me, Bianca said Elena was distracting me,” Miles continued. “Every time Elena wanted a weekend away, Bianca said the timing was terrible. And every time you complained about your marriage, Bianca made sure you had somewhere else to go.”
“You think she manipulated me?”
“I think she had help from the world's most willing participant.”
Adrian looked down.
Miles stood.
“You still made every decision, Adrian. Don't let her become your excuse.”
That afternoon, Elena visited the offices of Northline Preservation Studio.
Before marrying Adrian, she had worked as a historic preservation architect.
She loved old buildings.
Not because they were beautiful.
Because they had survived.
She loved finding a broken staircase beneath layers of cheap remodeling, discovering century-old craftsmanship hidden behind plaster, and restoring structures other people considered worthless.
She had once supervised the restoration of a nineteenth-century public library.
Then Adrian's business grew.
He needed a hostess for dinners.
Someone to handle family obligations.
Someone who could coordinate foundation events and travel.
Elena gradually reduced her working hours.
By the fifth year of their marriage, she had stopped accepting outside projects.
She told herself it was temporary.
Temporary became three years.
Now her old colleague Naomi Brooks was standing in front of her with tears in her eyes.
“Elena Vega.”
Elena smiled.
“It's Romano now.”
Naomi raised an eyebrow.
“For how much longer?”
Elena laughed.
Then Naomi hugged her.
“I heard rumors. I'm sorry.”
“Don't be.”
“Would you like to tell me what's going on?”
“Not yet.”
“Then I won't ask.”
They sat in a small conference room covered with building plans.
Naomi pushed a folder across the table.
“The Halsted Community Library.”
Elena's eyes widened.
“The restoration finally got funding?”
“Partial funding. Enough to start.”
She opened the folder.
The building was magnificent.
Three stories of red brick, arched windows, and a roofline damaged by decades of neglect.
Elena had studied it in graduate school.
“They want someone experienced with structural preservation and community partnerships,” Naomi said.
Elena's pulse quickened.
“Are you offering me a job?”
“I'm offering you an interview, because my partners would murder me if I skipped procedure.”
Elena smiled.
Naomi leaned forward.
“But between us? I've been waiting three years for you to remember what you were good at.”
Elena looked at the blueprints.
For eight years, she had arranged Adrian's world.
Here was an opportunity to rebuild her own.
“I'd love the interview.”
Naomi grinned.
“Good. Because construction starts in six weeks.”
Then her expression shifted.
“There is something else.”
Elena looked up.
Naomi opened another folder.
“The library project received a preliminary pledge through the Romano Civic Foundation. We thought you should know.”
Elena frowned.
“I haven't reviewed any new grants.”
Naomi hesitated.
“That's strange.”
“Why?”
“Because the approval paperwork has your signature.”
Elena stared.
“What paperwork?”
Naomi turned the document around.
At the bottom was Elena Romano's name.
Above it was a signature that looked exactly like hers.
But Elena had never signed it.
And beside the library's legitimate grant proposal was another entry.
A multimillion-dollar payment to a company called DeLuca Cultural Ventures.
Elena read the name twice.
Then she slowly closed the folder.
“Naomi,” she asked, “where did you get this?”
“It came through the foundation's approved funding packet.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
Elena felt the blood drain from her face.
Three weeks ago.
The same week Bianca had opened the package announcing Adrian's baby.
Elena looked at the forged signature again.
May you like
And suddenly she wondered whether Bianca had wanted her husband for love.
Or whether she had needed Elena out of the way for something much bigger.
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