Chapter 4 - The Other Woman Was Never the Real Threat
I did not take the Seattle project.
Not because of Vincent.
Because Halston revised the position.
Instead of relocating one director for eight months, we built a traveling team that rotated every two weeks.
Daniel put me in charge.
Three months after returning to work, I was leading twelve people.
The first time someone called me Director Carter in a meeting, I almost turned around to see who they meant.
My life became busy.
Not empty-busy.
Meaningful-busy.
I flew to Denver on Mondays and came home Wednesdays.
Vincent rearranged his schedule so Lily stayed with him while I traveled.
He did not complain.
He did not ask where I was staying.
He did not send security unless I asked.
That last part required negotiation.
“Claire, you’re traveling alone.”
“Millions of women do it.”
“Millions of women were not married to me.”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
“It becomes your problem if one of my enemies decides otherwise.”
Unfortunately, he had a point.
We compromised.
A discreet security professional traveled separately during high-risk trips.
I hated admitting Vincent was right.
He enjoyed it far too much.
“Say it again.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“Don’t ruin the moment.”
Our new relationship was strange.
Not romantic.
Not exactly friendly.
We were co-parents who sometimes laughed.
Two people who knew each other intimately and no longer had permission to act like it.
The divorce had not been finalized.
Illinois required paperwork, negotiations, and time.
Neither of us rushed.
I told myself it meant nothing.
Then one Friday in March, everything changed.
A woman named Elena Marconi arrived in Chicago.
I knew the name before I knew the woman.
Elena’s father, Carlo, had controlled organized crime interests on the East Coast for decades.
The Marconi family and the Morettis had once been allies.
Years earlier, before Vincent met me, there had apparently been discussions about a marriage between Vincent and Elena.
It never happened.
I only learned that because Dominic accidentally mentioned it at Teresa’s birthday dinner.
“Elena lands Thursday.”
Vincent looked up sharply.
Dominic froze.
I noticed.
“Who’s Elena?”
No one spoke.
Teresa sighed.
“For heaven’s sake.”
She looked at me.
“Elena Marconi. Old family friend.”
Dominic coughed.
Teresa added, “Whom Vincent’s father once wanted him to marry.”
I stopped cutting Lily’s chicken.
Vincent glared at Dominic.
“You couldn’t wait until after dinner?”
“I said four words.”
“Four terrible words.”
I looked between them.
“This is fascinating.”
“It isn’t,” Vincent said.
“It’s extremely fascinating.”
Lily looked at me.
“Daddy had another wedding?”
“No,” Vincent said quickly.
Teresa smiled.
“Almost.”
“Ma.”
“What? Claire deserves amusement.”
I did not want amusement.
I wanted information.
That annoyed me.
Vincent and I were divorcing.
He could marry the Queen of England if she became available.
Still, curiosity burned.
After dinner, while Lily played with Teresa, I found Vincent in the hall.
“So.”
He groaned.
“Don’t.”
“Arranged marriage?”
“Proposed alliance.”
“How romantic.”
“I was twenty-three.”
“Was she beautiful?”
He looked at me carefully.
“Are you asking as my co-parent?”
“No.”
“As my almost-ex-wife?”
“No.”
“As a woman who is jealous?”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Good night, Vincent.”
He smiled.
“I thought so.”
I hated him.
Two days later, I met Elena.
She was nothing like Adriana.
Adriana was glamorous and playful.
Elena was quiet.
Dark-haired.
Controlled.
The type of woman who entered a room without needing attention because everyone sensed she already knew who mattered.
I encountered her at Vincent’s hotel during a meeting.
She recognized me instantly.
“Claire.”
“Elena.”
She smiled slightly.
“Vincent talks about you.”
I nearly rolled my eyes.
Apparently, all women now opened conversations this way.
“I’m beginning to worry he needs new material.”
Elena laughed.
“I understand why he married you.”
“You didn’t before?”
“I assumed he married against family expectations because he was rebellious.”
“And now?”
“Now I think he married you because you’re the only person who speaks to him like he’s irritating.”
“He often is.”
“I know.”
To my surprise, I liked her.
That should have been the end of it.
It wasn’t.
Three nights later, a photograph appeared online.
Vincent and Elena leaving a private restaurant.
His hand at her back.
Her face turned toward him.
Headline:
MORETTI BOSS REUNITES WITH WOMAN HE WAS ONCE EXPECTED TO MARRY.
I stared at the image longer than I should have.
Then I put the phone down.
Five minutes later, Daniel called.
“You okay?”
“Why does everyone ask me that?”
“Because half the city thinks your almost-ex-husband is about to marry Mafia royalty.”
“Then half the city needs hobbies.”
Daniel hesitated.
“You know you can tell me if this is hard.”
Daniel and I had become close.
Not romantically.
At least not yet.
There was attraction.
Everyone noticed.
But I had refused to begin anything while legally married.
I told myself it was ethics.
Part of me knew it was fear.
“I’m fine,” I said.
The next morning, Vincent arrived at the townhouse.
Unannounced.
I opened the door and stared at him.
“What are you doing here?”
“Explaining.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because you saw the photograph.”
My silence confirmed it.
Vincent stepped closer.
“Elena asked me to dinner because her father wants a shipping partnership.”
“Congratulations.”
“Claire.”
“I’m serious. It has nothing to do with me.”
His expression tightened.
“That’s the problem.”
“What?”
“It has everything to do with you for me.”
I said nothing.
He continued.
“I didn’t touch her except to guide her away from photographers.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“There is nothing between us.”
“Vincent, you are allowed to date.”
“I don’t want to date.”
I folded my arms.
“That’s ironic.”
“I know.”
“Very.”
“I know.”
“Painfully.”
“Are you enjoying this?”
“A little.”
He almost smiled.
Then became serious.
“The divorce is final next month.”
My chest tightened.
“Yes.”
“You still want it?”
The question hung between us.
I hated him for asking.
I hated myself for not answering immediately.
Finally I said, “Yes.”
Something in his face broke quietly.
He nodded.
“All right.”
I expected an argument.
None came.
He reached into his coat and handed me an envelope.
“What’s this?”
“Something I should’ve given you years ago.”
Inside was a partnership agreement.
I stared.
“Moretti Hospitality?”
“You helped me build half the strategy that made it profitable.”
“I gave you opinions over dinner.”
“You reviewed acquisitions. Pricing. Expansion.”
“You never paid me.”
“I know.”
My eyes lifted.
“That is not funny.”
“I’m not trying to be funny.”
The agreement transferred a minority equity stake in the legitimate hotel division to me.
I looked at the number.
Then back at him.
“This is worth millions.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want guilt money.”
“It isn’t.”
“Then what is it?”
“Recognition.”
My throat closed.
Vincent spoke quietly.
“I took your work for granted before I started taking you for granted.”
I stared at him.
“You cannot buy absolution.”
“I know.”
“You cannot rewrite our marriage with paperwork.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying you know.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
That irritated me even more.
I put the papers back into the envelope.
“I’m not signing.”
“Have Rebecca review it.”
“No.”
“It doesn’t require anything from you.”
“No.”
“Claire—”
“I don’t want part of your empire because you feel guilty.”
His expression changed.
“It isn’t my empire.”
“What?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
His voice became rough.
“You built parts of it too.”
I could not speak.
He left before I found an answer.
Two days later, the real problem arrived.
Not Elena.
Not Adriana.
Not another woman.
A man.
Victor Hale.
Victor had been one of Vincent’s senior financial officers for eight years.
He was polished, loyal-looking, and trusted enough to manage millions.
Then Halston discovered irregular transactions connected to one of the hotels we were analyzing.
I found them.
At first, they looked like accounting errors.
Payments routed through shell vendors.
Inflated renovation contracts.
Duplicate invoices.
I followed the numbers.
The trail led to Moretti Hospitality.
I froze.
Daniel noticed.
“What?”
I turned the screen toward him.
“This vendor.”
“Hale Development?”
“It’s connected to one of Vincent’s companies.”
“Your Vincent?”
“He is not my Vincent.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow.
“Focus.”
We dug deeper.
Someone had been stealing.
Millions.
Over several years.
And whoever did it had used companies close enough to Vincent’s legitimate empire that investigators would eventually assume he knew.
I called Rebecca.
Then, after ten minutes of pacing, I called Vincent.
He answered instantly.
“Claire?”
“We need to talk.”
He heard my tone.
“What happened?”
“Not on the phone.”
Thirty minutes later, he entered Halston’s private conference room.
Dominic followed.
Daniel stayed.
Vincent did not like that.
I ignored it.
I placed the documents on the table.
“Someone is laundering theft through hotel renovation contracts.”
Vincent’s face became stone.
Dominic began reading.
“How much?”
“Initial estimate? Eleven million.”
Daniel added, “Potentially more.”
Vincent looked at me.
“How did you find it?”
“I was reviewing vendor relationships.”
His eyes held mine.
Then something unexpected happened.
He smiled.
Not happily.
Proudly.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Vincent.”
“You found what three internal audits missed.”
“This is serious.”
“I know.”
Dominic suddenly swore.
We looked at him.
He held up one page.
“Victor Hale authorized three of these.”
Vincent’s expression changed completely.
Cold.
Dangerous.
The Mafia boss returned.
“I want him brought in.”
“No,” I said.
Three men looked at me.
Vincent’s voice lowered.
“Claire.”
“If you handle this your way, every regulator in Illinois will assume you’re hiding something.”
“He stole from me.”
“He may have framed you.”
Silence.
That possibility landed.
Daniel leaned forward.
“Ms. Carter is right.”
Vincent did not appreciate Daniel agreeing with me.
I continued.
“If Hale expects an internal response, he’s prepared for it.”
Dominic nodded slowly.
“She’s right.”
Vincent looked at me.
“What do you recommend?”
The question mattered.
Not because he needed help.
Because years earlier, he would have decided first and informed me later.
Now he asked.
I opened another file.
“We let him think no one noticed.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“We trace everything.”
“And when we know who else is involved?”
I met his gaze.
“We destroy him legally.”
A slow smile appeared.
“There she is.”
“Who?”
“The woman who told me my first hotel acquisition was overpriced.”
“It was.”
“You were insufferable.”
“You married me anyway.”
His smile faded into something warm.
“Yes.”
Across the table, Dominic looked between us.
Daniel did too.
May you like
And for the first time, I understood the real threat to my new life was not another woman.
It was that Vincent and I worked together frighteningly well.
