Chapter 2 - The Mistress Who Knew Too Much
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
Bianca DeLuca was standing outside an apartment whose address I had given to exactly two people.
One was my attorney.
The other was the woman whose name appeared on the lease.
Neither had any connection to Bianca.
I looked through the peephole again.
She was thirty-two, strikingly beautiful, with straight black hair, carefully applied makeup, and a cream-colored coat that probably cost more than the furniture in my new living room.
I'd met her at charity dinners.
At two hospital fundraisers.
At a Christmas party where she had placed her hand on Adrian's arm and smiled at me as though we were friends.
Now she was standing outside my door after midnight.
"Elena," she called softly. "I know you're home."
I didn't open it.
"How did you find me?"
Bianca tilted her head.
"Does that matter?"
"Yes."
She sighed.
"Adrian's people aren't exactly discreet."
Something cold moved through my stomach.
"My husband didn't give you this address."
She smiled again.
"Your husband isn't as good at keeping secrets as you think."
I stepped away from the door and called Rachel.
She answered on the third ring.
"Elena?"
"Bianca is outside."
Silence.
"Inside the building?"
"Outside my apartment."
"Don't open the door."
"I wasn't planning to."
"Call building security. I'm calling someone myself."
I ended the call and contacted the number Rachel had left beside the telephone.
The overnight desk attendant answered.
I explained that an uninvited visitor was outside my unit and asked him to escort her out.
When I returned to the door, Bianca was speaking again.
"I don't want to fight."
"Then leave."
"I just need five minutes."
"No."
Her voice sharpened.
"You really think getting pregnant changes everything?"
My hand went instinctively to my stomach.
There it was.
The question I hadn't wanted to ask.
"Who told you?"
A pause.
"Adrian."
I almost believed her.
Then I remembered my husband sitting on the edge of our bed, staring at the ultrasound photograph like he'd forgotten how to breathe.
He had barely managed to speak to me.
Had he really called Bianca afterward to announce my pregnancy?
Perhaps.
He had chosen her once already.
But something about the timing felt wrong.
"When?"
"What?"
"When did Adrian tell you?"
Bianca hesitated.
"After you left."
"What exactly did he say?"
"That you're pregnant and trying to use the baby to keep him."
I closed my eyes.
For a moment, the humiliation was almost unbearable.
Not because I thought Adrian had said it.
Because Bianca believed that was what a woman would naturally do.
Use a child as a weapon to keep a man who had already walked away.
"You should leave," I said.
Bianca laughed softly.
"You're making a mistake, Elena."
"Good night."
"Adrian and I have been planning a future together."
"Then enjoy it."
"You can't keep him through guilt."
I leaned toward the closed door.
"Bianca, listen very carefully. I don't want Adrian. I want a divorce. I want my child safe. And I want you to stop appearing wherever I happen to be."
She didn't answer.
Then I heard footsteps in the hallway.
A man's voice spoke firmly.
"Ma'am, you need to come downstairs."
Bianca protested.
The voice repeated the instruction.
A minute later, silence returned.
I locked the deadbolt again.
Then I sat on the floor beside the door and started shaking.
Rachel arrived twenty minutes later with a tall woman in a dark jacket.
"Elena, this is Dana Brooks," she said. "Dana is a licensed private investigator and former Chicago police detective."
Dana had silver at her temples and an expression that suggested she'd heard every lie a frightened person could tell.
She walked the apartment once before sitting across from me.
"Did Bianca threaten you?"
"Not directly."
"Did she touch the door?"
"No."
"Did she explain how she found you?"
"She implied Adrian's people told her."
Dana exchanged a look with Rachel.
"Did your husband know this address?"
"No."
"His attorneys?"
"Not yet," Rachel said.
Dana nodded slowly.
"Then we have a problem."
I felt my pulse quicken.
"What kind of problem?"
"Someone located you quickly. That could be innocent gossip, surveillance, or access to information they shouldn't have. We need to establish which."
Rachel opened her laptop.
"I'll obtain the building's entry records and preserve the security footage."
Dana asked me to describe the people who had known about the apartment.
I listed Rachel.
The leasing contact.
A clinic receptionist who had called earlier to confirm my next appointment but hadn't been given my address.
Margaret, our housekeeper, knew I was leaving but not where.
Dana wrote everything down.
Then she asked a question that made me stop.
"Do you and Adrian share any digital accounts?"
"A household calendar. Some subscription accounts. There was a family-management service through his office."
"Who had access?"
"His executive assistant. The security director. Sometimes me."
"Sometimes?"
I frowned.
"Adrian never used it himself. I handled most of the household administration."
Dana looked at Rachel.
"We'll need to inspect that."
My phone vibrated.
A message from Adrian.
ADRIAN: Bianca just called me. She says you threatened her.
I stared at the words.
Then I showed Rachel.
She read them, her expression hardening.
"May I answer as your attorney?"
"Please."
Rachel typed a brief reply.
RACHEL: Mr. Romano, Ms. DeLuca appeared uninvited at Elena's private residence tonight. Building security removed her. We are preserving the footage and reviewing how she obtained the location. Please instruct her not to contact my client.
Adrian called immediately.
Rachel answered on speaker.
"Mr. Romano."
"Where is Elena?"
"Safe."
"Bianca told me Elena invited her."
"That is false."
Silence.
Then Adrian asked, "What happened?"
Rachel explained.
He interrupted only once.
"She went there?"
"Yes."
"How the hell did she find Elena?"
"That's what we're investigating."
His breathing changed.
"Put Elena on."
I shook my head.
Rachel said, "She doesn't wish to speak tonight."
"Rachel."
"No, Mr. Romano. You initiated a divorce. You have representation. You can communicate through counsel."
"I wasn't aware Bianca was going there."
"Then I suggest you find out why she did."
Rachel ended the call.
I looked at her.
"Do you think he's lying?"
"I don't know," she said.
And somehow, that uncertainty frightened me more.
The next morning, I woke to a message from Adrian's mother.
TERESA: Come to lunch. We need to discuss this nonsense.
Teresa Romano had never believed in gentle invitations.
She was sixty-seven, elegant, fiercely intelligent, and capable of making grown men straighten their backs merely by entering a room.
She had always been kind to me.
But Adrian was her only son.
And I knew where her loyalty would go when the choice became uncomfortable.
I replied that I wasn't available.
Five minutes later, she called.
"Elena."
"Good morning, Teresa."
"What is this business about a divorce?"
"Adrian asked for one."
"He's an idiot."
I blinked.
She continued before I could answer.
"A monumental idiot. I raised him better than this."
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
"Then you should tell him."
"I have."
I walked toward the kitchen.
"Teresa, I'm not discussing my marriage over the phone."
"Fine. Then discuss my grandchild."
I stopped.
"Who told you?"
"Adrian."
I closed my eyes.
"Of course."
"He came to my house at two this morning looking like someone had buried him alive."
I said nothing.
"He told me everything," Teresa continued.
"Everything?"
A pause.
"Enough."
"Did he tell you about Bianca?"
"Yes."
"And the divorce?"
"Yes."
"Did he tell you Bianca came to my apartment last night?"
Teresa went quiet.
Then she asked, "She did what?"
I explained.
When I finished, her voice had changed.
"That girl has no business going near you."
"She seems to disagree."
"Adrian will handle it."
"No," I said immediately.
Teresa paused.
"I don't want Adrian handling things the way he normally handles them."
Another silence.
"You're right," she said at last.
The admission surprised me.
Then she added, "Come see me when you're ready. Not because you're Adrian's wife. Because you've been my daughter for eight years."
My throat tightened unexpectedly.
"I'll think about it."
"Eat something, Elena."
I almost laughed.
"Everyone suddenly cares whether I'm eating."
Teresa's voice softened.
"I cared before."
After the call ended, I stood beside the kitchen counter for a long time.
Then I made toast.
Because despite my heartbreak, the baby inside me was hungry.
And for once, I intended to listen to my own needs first.
At noon, Rachel forwarded confirmation of my next prenatal appointment.
Wednesday.
Ten-thirty in the morning.
I had specifically requested that all communications go to my personal email.
But beneath the confirmation was a notice from the clinic's patient portal.
A new authorized contact had been added to my account three days earlier.
The name was unfamiliar.
M. DeLuca.
I stared at the screen.
Then I called the clinic.
A receptionist answered.
I explained that someone had been added without my authorization.
She asked me to verify my identity.
After several minutes, her voice became uncertain.
"Mrs. Romano, according to our records, an additional contact was added through a household representative."
"What representative?"
"The request came from an email address associated with Romano Family Administration."
My mouth went dry.
"Who approved it?"
"I'll need to escalate that to our privacy officer."
"Please do."
I took a screenshot and forwarded it to Rachel.
Within minutes, she called.
"Elena, don't contact Adrian yet."
"Why?"
"Because I want the clinic to preserve exactly what happened before anyone starts explaining it away."
I looked at the notice again.
M. DeLuca.
Bianca's last name.
But her first initial was B.
Her brother's name was Marco.
I remembered meeting him two years earlier at a New Year's Eve party.
Tall.
Quiet.
Always watching.
He had shaken my hand and said something strange.
"You're the one who keeps the Romano household running."
At the time, I'd taken it as a compliment.
Now I wondered how much he knew about the household he had praised.
Across Chicago, Adrian Romano was sitting in his office when his head of security entered without knocking.
Vincent Caruso had worked for the Romano family for almost twenty years.
He carried a tablet and wore the expression of a man who would rather face a loaded gun than deliver bad news.
"We have a problem," Vincent said.
Adrian didn't look up.
"Get specific."
"Bianca's brother has been asking questions about Elena."
Adrian slowly raised his head.
"What questions?"
"Her movements. Her medical appointments. Where she's staying."
The room went silent.
Vincent continued.
"One of our drivers says Marco offered him fifteen thousand dollars for information."
Adrian stood.
His chair rolled backward.
"Who gave him the authority to approach my people?"
"Nobody."
"Then why am I hearing about this now?"
"Because the driver reported it an hour ago."
Adrian walked toward the window.
Below him, Chicago traffic moved through the streets.
For years, he had believed his power made the people he loved untouchable.
Now his wife had left.
His unborn child existed in a world he suddenly recognized as far more dangerous than he had allowed himself to admit.
"Get me Marco," he said.
Vincent hesitated.
"Boss—"
"Now."
Vincent didn't move.
Adrian turned.
"What?"
"Elena's attorney has already warned your office against contacting her through intermediaries. If you send men after DeLuca, you'll make her fear of your world look entirely justified."
Adrian stared at him.
Vincent held his gaze.
Then Adrian slowly exhaled.
For the first time in years, he understood that the fastest way to solve a problem might also be the easiest way to lose his family permanently.
"Then we do this properly," he said.
"Define properly."
"Document everything. Give it to my attorney. And if Marco committed a crime, let the police have him."
Vincent blinked.
That was not the answer he had expected.
Neither, apparently, had Adrian.
But he meant it.
Or at least he wanted to become the kind of man who could mean it.
At four that afternoon, Dana arrived at my apartment.
She placed a printed photograph on the table.
It showed a dark blue SUV parked across from my building.
"Do you recognize this vehicle?"
I leaned closer.
My skin prickled.
"I saw it outside the grocery store six months ago."
"Are you certain?"
"Yes. There was a small dent near the back window."
Dana pointed.
The dent was visible.
"Where was the photograph taken?"
"Two hours ago."
I looked toward the balcony.
"Is it still there?"
"No. We documented it leaving."
Rachel joined us by video call.
Dana explained that the vehicle was registered to a transportation company connected to Marco DeLuca.
There wasn't yet evidence that the person inside had threatened or followed me.
But the connection was enough to make my heart pound.
"Why would Marco care about my baby?" I whispered.
Dana didn't answer immediately.
Then she asked me something I hadn't considered.
"Elena, did Adrian ever explain why his relationship with the DeLuca family had become so important this year?"
"No."
"What about any business disagreement?"
I thought back.
Over the past few months, Adrian had become increasingly irritable whenever Marco's name appeared on his phone.
Once, during dinner, he'd stepped into the hallway and said sharply, "I'm not signing another extension."
When he returned, he claimed it was a shipping dispute.
I told Dana.
She made a note.
Then she asked whether I had access to any financial records from Adrian's household office.
"Only the expenses I managed."
"Did you keep copies?"
I almost smiled.
For eight years, I had kept copies of everything.
Invoices.
Receipts.
Contracts for household services.
Payments for renovations.
Security upgrades.
Even the annual cost of maintaining the estate's ridiculous heated driveway.
"Yes," I said.
"Where are they?"
"On an encrypted drive."
Dana leaned forward.
"Could we look?"
I hesitated.
"Most of it is ordinary household information."
"That's exactly why I'm interested."
I retrieved my laptop and opened the files.
There were hundreds of folders.
Dana scanned the screen.
Then she stopped.
"What's this?"
She pointed to a payment ledger.
Six recurring transfers had been made over the previous nine months.
Each was listed under a household security expense.
Each went to a company called North Harbor Risk Consulting.
The amounts were oddly specific.
$18,750.
$18,750.
$18,750.
Always on the same day of the month.
"I never authorized those," I said.
Dana looked at the date of the most recent transfer.
Three days earlier.
The same day someone had added M. DeLuca to my medical account.
Rachel's voice sounded through the laptop.
"Elena, don't delete or change anything."
I felt suddenly cold.
Because I remembered one more detail.
The previous Christmas, Adrian had instructed me to stop questioning the household security expenses.
He'd said Vincent was handling them.
But Vincent's own approved security invoices were stored elsewhere.
These payments didn't match his department's usual billing process.
Dana looked at me.
"Has anyone besides you had access to these files?"
"Adrian's office."
"And?"
I swallowed.
"His former chief financial officer."
"Name?"
"Nicholas Ferraro."
Dana's expression changed.
Rachel noticed.
"Dana?"
The investigator stared at the screen.
Then she said quietly, "Nicholas Ferraro disappeared from Chicago fourteen months ago."
My fingers tightened around the laptop.
"Disappeared?"
"Nobody filed a missing-person report. But he left his position without notice and stopped appearing in public."
I looked at the transfers again.
Nine months.
A company with no recognizable purpose.
A vanished financial officer.
And a man connected to Bianca DeLuca watching my apartment.
Then Dana pointed toward the bottom of the ledger.
"Elena, what does this notation mean?"
I leaned closer.
Beside the final payment, someone had entered a short internal note.
FAMILY CONTINGENCY — E.R.
Those were my initials.
Before I could speak, my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
One photograph appeared.
It showed me standing outside my obstetrician's office eighteen days earlier.
I was holding the small white bag containing my first ultrasound photograph.
May you like
Beneath it was a message.
UNKNOWN: Adrian wasn't the first man to learn about the baby. And he won't be the last.
