Chapter 2 - The Wedding He Attended Alone
Daniel did not take Vanessa to Michael Russo's wedding.
I learned that from Sarah, who learned it from the internet, which was apparently faster than Chicago's entire intelligence community when rich people got married.
“Your husband looks miserable,” she announced Saturday evening.
I was sitting cross-legged on the floor of my new apartment surrounded by half-assembled furniture.
“He isn't my husband for much longer.”
Sarah held up her phone.
“Legally, he is.”
I tightened another screw into the leg of a bookshelf.
“Then legally, he looks miserable.”
She laughed.
Three days earlier, I had signed the lease.
Daniel had discovered it after the fact.
He did not take the news well.
“You're moving into a building with public parking?”
“Yes.”
“It has one security guard overnight.”
“So?”
“So anyone can enter.”
“People live there every day without being murdered, Daniel.”
“You don't live like normal people.”
“That is exactly what I'm trying to change.”
His eyes had gone cold.
“You are a Blackwood.”
“Not forever.”
He had stared at me for a long moment.
Then he said something that surprised me.
“Let me assign two men.”
“No.”
“One.”
“No.”
“Emily—”
“I will hire building security if I decide I need more.”
He hated that answer.
But he accepted it.
That was the first small sign that something inside him had shifted.
The old Daniel would have ordered men to follow me.
Perhaps he still wanted to.
For all I knew, he did.
But if anyone was watching my apartment, they were good enough that I never noticed.
I moved out on Thursday morning.
Daniel stood at the top of the mansion staircase while workers carried my boxes outside.
He did not help.
He did not interfere.
He simply watched.
When the final box disappeared, I picked up my purse.
“You really planned this.”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were angry.”
“I was.”
“And now?”
I considered the question.
“Now I'm tired.”
His face tightened as if that answer hurt more.
“Emily.”
I waited.
He seemed to search for something.
An apology.
A command.
A threat.
In the end, all he said was, “The house is still yours.”
I shook my head.
“No, Daniel. It never really was.”
Then I left.
My new apartment smelled like fresh paint and someone else's cooking.
The building elevator complained every time it reached the sixth floor.
The water pressure in the shower was disappointing.
A bus stopped outside my bedroom window every twenty minutes.
I loved everything about it.
Saturday night, while Daniel attended the wedding, Sarah and I ate Chinese food from cartons and assembled furniture.
At nine thirty, she found a photograph.
“Oh.”
That sound made me look up.
“What?”
“Vanessa is there.”
I froze.
Sarah immediately lowered the phone.
“Forget I said anything.”
“Show me.”
“Emily.”
“Sarah.”
She sighed and handed me the phone.
The photograph had been taken outside the reception venue.
Michael stood beside his bride, laughing.
Several guests filled the background.
And there, near the entrance, was Daniel.
Alone.
Vanessa was approximately ten feet behind him speaking to an older woman.
It wasn't intimate.
It wasn't romantic.
It shouldn't have bothered me.
The headline did.
BLACKWOOD AND COLE REUNITE AT HIGH-PROFILE CHICAGO WEDDING.
I laughed.
Sarah looked concerned.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That's not your normal laugh.”
“They aren't even standing together.”
“Exactly.”
“And somehow the headline makes it sound like they arrived holding hands.”
Sarah took the phone.
“Don't read this garbage.”
“I spent years reading it.”
“Then stop.”
I leaned back against the sofa.
“Do you know the worst part?”
“What?”
“I don't even know if Vanessa wants him.”
Sarah's face darkened.
“She certainly enjoys making people wonder.”
That was true.
Vanessa had never publicly claimed Daniel.
She simply never discouraged the speculation.
When interviewers asked whether there was “still love” between them, she smiled mysteriously.
When photographers caught them at the same restaurants, she offered no explanation.
When a magazine called Daniel “the one who got away,” she reposted the article without comment.
Daniel always insisted none of it mattered.
But it mattered to me.
And he knew it.
At eleven that night, someone knocked.
Sarah and I both froze.
“Were you expecting anyone?”
“No.”
She reached for her phone.
I approached the door and checked the peephole.
Daniel stood outside.
Alone.
Still wearing his tuxedo.
I closed my eyes.
“It's him.”
“Don't open it.”
“He knows I'm home.”
“Let him enjoy the hallway.”
Another knock came.
“Emily.”
Sarah pointed toward the bedroom.
“I can stay.”
“No. It's okay.”
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
I opened the door but left the chain secured.
Daniel stared through the narrow opening.
His eyes moved past me and landed on Sarah.
“Can I come in?”
“No.”
His mouth tightened.
“I need to talk to you.”
“You could call.”
“You don't answer.”
That was true.
I had muted him.
Not blocked.
Just muted.
“Five minutes,” he said.
Sarah crossed her arms.
“Five.”
I unlatched the chain.
Daniel entered my apartment and looked around.
His expression suggested someone had placed him inside a shoebox.
“This is where you're living?”
“Yes.”
“The windows face the street.”
“So do many windows.”
“The lock on your balcony is inadequate.”
“You've been inside thirty seconds.”
“I can see it from here.”
Sarah stood.
“I'll be in Emily's room.”
Daniel nodded.
“Dr. Mitchell.”
“Mr. Blackwood.”
Her tone made his full name sound like a diagnosis.
When she disappeared, Daniel turned to me.
“I didn't bring Vanessa.”
“I know.”
“She was invited separately.”
“I know.”
“Michael has known her for years.”
“Daniel.”
He stopped.
“You don't have to explain where Vanessa goes anymore.”
His face hardened.
“I do if you're using tonight as another reason to leave.”
“I don't need another reason.”
He looked exhausted.
For once, the perfect Blackwood suit didn't disguise it.
“I didn't understand you were serious.”
“I told you.”
“You've been angry before.”
“And you assumed I'd forgive you.”
“Yes.”
The honesty startled me.
Daniel looked toward the floor.
“I assumed you'd calm down.”
“Because I always did.”
“Yes.”
“And that was convenient.”
His head lifted.
“No.”
“It was.”
He started to argue, then stopped.
I walked into the kitchen.
“You trained me to believe every disagreement could end our marriage if I pushed too hard. Eventually I stopped pushing.”
“I never intended to divorce you.”
“Then why say it?”
His silence was an answer.
Because it worked.
I gave a bitter smile.
“You wanted me afraid.”
“I wanted the argument to stop.”
“Same result.”
He dragged a hand through his hair.
“Tell me how to fix it.”
I almost laughed.
Four years.
Hundreds of lonely dinners.
Dozens of headlines.
Three divorce threats.
And now he wanted instructions.
“I don't know.”
“I'll stop seeing Vanessa.”
“This isn't only about Vanessa.”
“I'll answer every call.”
“It isn't only about the phone call.”
“Then tell me what it is.”
I looked at him.
“It's about being married to someone who always expected me to understand him while never trying to understand me.”
He went quiet.
“You would disappear for days and call it business.”
“I had responsibilities.”
“You'd cancel dinner without telling me.”
“I—”
“You'd bring armed men to my charity events, turn them into security operations, and then disappear before dessert.”
“Emily—”
“You told me I was jealous whenever Vanessa embarrassed me publicly.”
“She never—”
“You knew the rumors hurt me.”
That stopped him.
“You knew.”
He looked away.
“Yes.”
“And you did nothing because confronting her would have been uncomfortable.”
He had no answer.
“That is our marriage, Daniel. Whenever my pain required something inconvenient from you, I was expected to tolerate it.”
His voice lowered.
“I didn't know you felt like that.”
“Because you didn't ask.”
For the first time since arriving, he looked genuinely lost.
“I love you.”
The words hit me like a memory.
I had wanted them so many times.
Now they felt late.
“I love you too.”
Hope flashed across his face.
I destroyed it with the next sentence.
“But love isn't enough to make a bad marriage good.”
He stared at me.
Behind him, headlights moved across the window.
“I'll change.”
“Maybe you should.”
“For you.”
“No.”
That surprised him.
“For yourself.”
A long silence followed.
Finally, Daniel nodded.
Then his gaze moved to my bare left hand.
“I can't look at that.”
“At what?”
“Your hand.”
My chest tightened.
“That's not my problem anymore.”
He flinched almost imperceptibly.
Daniel Blackwood did not flinch.
He moved toward the door.
Before leaving, he stopped.
“Rebecca Shaw's office sent documents.”
“Yes.”
“I haven't signed anything.”
“I assumed you wouldn't.”
He turned.
“Not because I want to punish you.”
“Then why?”
“Because signing them feels like agreeing that I can lose you.”
I swallowed.
“You already lost me.”
His eyes closed briefly.
“I know.”
Then he left.
The next morning, my photograph appeared online.
Someone had taken it while I was carrying boxes into the building.
EMILY BLACKWOOD MOVES OUT OF MARITAL HOME.
Another article followed.
TROUBLE IN THE BLACKWOOD MARRIAGE?
Then:
VANESSA COLE ATTENDS SAME WEDDING AS DANIEL BLACKWOOD WHILE WIFE LIVES ALONE.
By noon, reporters were outside.
That was when I discovered one disadvantage of normal apartment life.
No private gates.
Sarah called Daniel before I could stop her.
Within twenty minutes, three black vehicles arrived.
Security officers moved reporters away from the entrance without touching anyone.
Daniel did not come upstairs.
Instead, his head of security called me.
“Mrs. Blackwood, Mr. Blackwood instructed us to remain outside until the press leaves.”
“I didn't ask for that.”
“He knows.”
“Then why—”
“He specifically instructed us not to enter your building unless you request it.”
I paused.
That was new.
“Fine.”
The men stayed on the sidewalk.
By evening, the reporters disappeared.
Daniel never called.
The next afternoon, Vanessa did.
Her name appeared on my screen.
I almost ignored it.
Instead, curiosity won.
“Hello?”
“Emily.”
Her voice was softer than I expected.
“I think we need to talk.”
“No, we really don't.”
“Please.”
I closed my eyes.
“What could you possibly have to say?”
A pause.
Then:
“Daniel isn't telling you everything.”
My stomach tightened.
“About what?”
“About me.”
I said nothing.
Vanessa exhaled slowly.
“There are things from our past you should know before you divorce him.”
“Why?”
“Because if you leave believing he's still in love with me, you're leaving for the wrong reason.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“And if I stay?”
“I didn't say you should.”
That surprised me.
Vanessa continued.
“In fact, after what he's done to you, I'm not sure I would.”
I stared at the rain sliding down my apartment window.
“What do you want?”
“To meet.”
“Why?”
“Because Daniel protected a secret for eleven years.”
May you like
Her next words made my heart stop.
“And that secret is the reason he always comes when I call.”
