Chapter 2 - The Woman He Had Buried
Three weeks after Claire disappeared, Alexander saw her face on the internet.
Not in a gossip article.
Not in a scandal report.
On the website of the Bellini Foundation for Contemporary Art in Florence.
Claire Bennett Moretti—though the page listed her professionally as Claire Bennett—had been selected for a six-month international residency.
The photograph showed her standing beside a window flooded with Tuscan sunlight.
She looked thinner.
Tired.
But alive.
More alive than she had looked in years.
Alexander stared at the picture until Dominic took the phone out of his hand.
“You’re making this worse.”
“I want the page taken down.”
Dominic laughed once without humor. “On what legal basis? Your feelings?”
Alexander’s eyes darkened.
Dominic did not flinch.
They had known each other since college, before Alexander inherited a criminal empire he had never fully escaped.
“You asked me to tell you what can be done legally,” Dominic said. “Legally, Claire can work. She can use her maiden name. She can live in Italy during the temporary period approved by the court. And unless you want to prove every allegation she made about controlling behavior, you should not interfere.”
Alexander walked to the windows of his downtown office.
Chicago moved beneath him.
Cars.
People.
A city that usually felt like territory.
Now it felt irrelevant.
“What about Ethan?”
“Stable. Receiving follow-up care. His pediatric specialist submitted a report confirming he can travel.”
“I want weekly video calls.”
“You have supervised calls twice a week under the temporary order.”
“Supervised.”
“Yes.”
Alexander turned.
“I’m his father.”
Dominic’s expression softened, which somehow made it worse.
“Then act like one.”
That evening, Alexander sat alone in his study waiting for the call.
At exactly seven, the screen connected.
Ethan appeared.
The boy was sitting at a small kitchen table.
Behind him was a bright apartment with high ceilings and pale walls.
Claire was nowhere in frame.
A court-approved family coordinator sat nearby.
“Hey, buddy.”
Ethan stared at him.
Alexander had rehearsed fifteen sentences.
He forgot all of them.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better.”
“That’s good.”
Silence.
Alexander leaned closer.
“I miss you.”
Ethan looked down.
“You didn’t miss me at the hospital.”
The words were not angry.
That made them unbearable.
“I made a mistake.”
“You said you were busy.”
“I was wrong.”
“Sophia needed you.”
Alexander froze.
Ethan’s small face tightened.
“Mom thought I was sleeping, but I heard her crying in the hallway.”
Alexander’s chest constricted.
“Ethan—”
“She kept telling the doctor you were coming.”
He could not answer.
The coordinator glanced at the clock.
Alexander forced himself to continue.
“I’m sorry.”
Ethan’s eyes lifted.
“Are you sorry because we left?”
Alexander felt the question like a blade.
Children did not know how to be diplomatic.
“No,” he said slowly. “I’m sorry because I hurt you before you left.”
Ethan watched him.
For the first time, something in the boy’s expression changed.
Not forgiveness.
But attention.
After the call, Alexander remained seated in darkness.
Sophia entered without knocking.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
He did not turn.
“I’ve been busy.”
Her laugh was bitter. “That’s ironic.”
Alexander’s gaze shifted toward her.
Sophia wore an expensive cream coat he had bought after she complained about the Chicago winter.
For months, he had mistaken her dependence for affection.
Now every detail irritated him.
“What do you want?”
“You.”
“No.”
The answer came so fast that Sophia blinked.
She approached the desk.
“You told me Claire was cold. You told me your marriage had been dead for years.”
“I told you things I had no business telling you.”
“You made promises.”
“I told you I would take care of you professionally.”
“You called me sweetheart.”
Alexander’s expression hardened.
“That was a mistake.”
Sophia’s face changed.
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“You chose me.”
He stood.
“No. I neglected them. There’s a difference.”
Sophia stared at him.
Then her voice became sharp.
“Claire left because she wanted to punish you. She’s manipulating Ethan.”
Alexander had heard that argument from three men in his organization.
Each time, something inside him wanted to accept it.
Blame was easier than guilt.
But then he remembered Ethan’s drawing.
DAD IS BUSY.
“No,” Alexander said. “She left because I gave her reasons to.”
Sophia’s eyes filled with tears.
Months ago, Alexander would have moved toward her.
Now he remained still.
“She’s using that boy against you.”
“Get out.”
“Alexander—”
“Get out.”
She left.
The following morning, Marco arrived with a sealed evidence bag.
“What’s that?”
“Recovered security footage from the studio.”
Alexander’s face went still.
“The day the painting was destroyed?”
Marco nodded.
“I thought you should see it.”
Alexander inserted the drive.
The footage showed Claire entering the studio.
Sophia standing near the painting.
Alexander beside her.
Then the moment Claire protested.
Then Sophia turned.
Except the bag did not accidentally strike the table.
The movement was deliberate.
Small.
Controlled.
Sophia looked toward the camera before shifting her bag directly into the containers.
Paint crashed over the canvas.
Alexander watched himself step between the two women.
Watched Claire’s face break.
Watched himself protect the person who had intentionally destroyed three years of her work.
He replayed it.
Again.
Again.
Again.
His breathing changed.
“Did Claire know?”
“Not at first,” Marco said. “But she requested the footage before leaving.”
Alexander shut his eyes.
So Claire had known.
She had known the destruction was deliberate.
And she had also known Alexander had never bothered to investigate.
“What was the painting worth?”
Marco hesitated.
“Financially?”
“Yes.”
“An appraiser Claire consulted valued the completed work between ninety and one hundred twenty thousand dollars.”
Alexander looked at him.
He had called it just a painting.
But the money was not what made him feel sick.
On Claire’s residency page, he found the title of her upcoming exhibition.
Things We Survive.
The lead piece was described as a reconstruction created from fragments of a destroyed canvas.
Alexander stared at the screen.
Claire had taken the thing Sophia ruined and turned it into something new.
Something that no longer belonged to the marriage.
May you like
Something Alexander could neither buy nor erase.
And for the first time in years, Claire’s life was moving forward without waiting for him.
