Chapter 4 - The Woman I Hated Told Me The Truth
I sat down because my legs stopped cooperating.
Vanessa remained standing.
Damian moved toward the bar.
Not for alcohol.
He gripped the edge like he needed something solid beneath his hands.
“Who?” I asked.
Vanessa answered quietly.
“Someone inside Cross Industries.”
My pulse thudded.
“Name.”
“We didn't know then.”
“Now?”
“We have a strong suspicion.”
“Vanessa.”
“Victor Cross.”
I turned toward Damian.
His face was unreadable.
“Your uncle?”
“Yes.”
Victor Cross was Damian's father's younger brother.
Old money.
Old crime.
Old rules.
When Damian's father died, Damian became head of the family organization instead of Victor.
Victor had never forgiven him.
He was charming in public.
Dangerous privately.
He attended our first wedding.
Kissed my cheek.
Called me the little queen.
I had always hated the phrase.
“Why?” I asked.
Damian finally spoke.
“Because you were changing me.”
I almost laughed.
“What?”
“Victor thought marriage made me weak.”
“And a fake affair photograph solves that?”
“He knew you.”
The sentence offended me.
“He knew I was crazy?”
“No.”
Damian’s voice hardened.
“He knew you loved me.”
That hurt more.
Vanessa sat across from me.
“The original photograph wasn't a kiss.”
“What was it?”
“A security incident.”
She opened her laptop.
Found a file.
Turned it around.
A video.
Three years old.
Grainy security footage.
Damian and Vanessa walking from an elevator.
Vanessa stumbled.
Damian caught her.
Her hand grabbed his shoulder.
Their faces moved close for less than a second.
Then Damian pulled back.
No kiss.
Nothing.
My stomach turned.
Vanessa opened the fake photograph beside it.
Same background.
Same clothes.
Different positions.
Edited.
Convincingly.
“Why didn't you show me this?”
My voice barely existed.
Damian answered.
“I couldn't.”
I looked at him.
“Couldn't?”
“The security footage came from a restricted floor.”
“So?”
“There had been a breach that night.”
“What breach?”
“Someone entered our weapons-record system.”
The room went colder.
Vanessa continued.
“We thought the photograph might be connected.”
“You investigated?”
“For months.”
“And nobody thought perhaps the woman whose marriage was destroyed deserved one minute of video?”
Damian looked ashamed.
Finally.
“I thought telling you the photo was fake should have been enough.”
I laughed.
“Of course you did.”
“I was wrong.”
“Yes.”
“I was furious that you didn't trust me.”
“And I was furious that you expected blind faith!”
“Yes.”
Vanessa looked between us.
“I told him to show you.”
Damian glared.
“Helpful.”
She ignored him.
“He refused.”
“Why?”
“Security.”
Damian answered.
“And pride.”
At least he had learned the word.
I looked back at the video.
Three years.
Three years because one man forged a photograph.
No.
That was too simple.
Our marriage didn't end because of Victor.
Victor lit the match.
Damian and I poured gasoline everywhere ourselves.
“You told me to leave,” I said.
Damian’s face tightened.
“I know.”
“I told you to fire an innocent woman.”
“Yes.”
Vanessa looked mildly pleased by the word innocent.
“I destroyed your office.”
“Yes.”
“I didn't listen.”
“No.”
“You didn't explain.”
“No.”
“We were idiots.”
Damian almost smiled.
“Yes.”
I closed the laptop.
“Why now?”
His expression changed.
“What?”
“Why bring me back now?”
“Ethan.”
“Not enough.”
He waited.
“You could have called any time in three years.”
“Yes.”
“So why yesterday?”
Silence.
Vanessa stood.
“I should leave.”
“No,” I said.
She froze.
“Stay.”
Damian frowned.
“This involves her too.”
Vanessa slowly sat again.
Damian looked trapped.
Interesting.
“I saw you two months ago,” he finally said.
“Where?”
“Outside a grocery store in Rogers Park.”
I searched memory.
Rainy afternoon.
Cheap groceries.
My scooter.
I remembered a black SUV parked across the road.
I had not noticed who was inside.
“You saw me.”
“Yes.”
“And didn't speak.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“You looked…”
He stopped.
“Say it.”
“Happy.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“I was holding ramen.”
“You were laughing with someone.”
I remembered.
A delivery driver named Miguel had made a joke about my broken helmet.
“Who?”
“Coworker.”
“Man?”
“Yes.”
Something ugly and familiar entered Damian's face.
Jealousy.
I almost enjoyed it.
“Were you dating him?”
“No.”
His shoulders eased.
I raised an eyebrow.
He looked annoyed with himself.
“I watched you leave.”
“That’s creepy.”
“Yes.”
Vanessa looked away, hiding a smile.
Damian continued.
“I told myself if you were happy, I should leave you alone.”
“How noble.”
“It lasted three weeks.”
“What happened?”
“Ethan found your old voicemail.”
I froze.
“What voicemail?”
“You recorded one after the divorce.”
I remembered.
Ethan’s eighth birthday.
I called Damian’s office line after midnight because I knew nobody would answer.
I left a message.
Tell Ethan I love him. Please. I don't want to confuse him, but tell him none of this was his fault.
Damian had never mentioned it.
“You kept it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I listened to it sometimes.”
The room went silent.
Vanessa stared at the table.
I stared at Damian.
He looked away.
“Ethan found it on an old phone. He heard your voice.”
My chest tightened.
“He started asking again.”
“And that made you look for me?”
“Yes.”
“Then yesterday happened.”
“Yes.”
“You just happened to see me?”
“No.”
I waited.
“I had someone locate you.”
Of course.
“You followed me.”
“For one day.”
“Damian.”
“I needed to know whether approaching you would make things worse.”
“So you watched me lose eighty-six dollars in the rain.”
“Yes.”
“And decided marriage?”
“No.”
His eyes held mine.
“I decided marriage years ago.”
My heartbeat stumbled.
“What?”
“I never wanted anyone else permanently.”
Three women.
He dated three women.
Apparently none lasted.
“I thought if you came back for Ethan, maybe eventually…”
He stopped.
“Eventually what?”
His voice lowered.
“Maybe you'd remember why you loved me.”
That was the most vulnerable thing Damian Cross had ever said.
I hated how much it affected me.
Vanessa stood again.
“This time I am leaving.”
I didn't stop her.
At the door, I called, “Vanessa.”
She turned.
“I’m sorry.”
She looked startled.
“For what?”
“For what I did to you.”
Her expression softened.
“You were hurt.”
“That doesn't make it acceptable.”
“No.”
“I’m still sorry.”
She nodded.
“Thank you.”
Then she left.
Damian and I remained alone.
“You apologized to her.”
“I owed her one.”
“You used to hate apologizing.”
“I used to hate many useful things.”
He almost smiled.
I stood.
“What are you going to do about Victor?”
“Investigate.”
“Only investigate?”
His face hardened.
“If he forged the photo to destabilize the marriage, he may have been behind the data breach too.”
“Why?”
“That breach exposed weapons routes. Two shipments were hit within a month.”
“People died?”
Silence.
“Damian.”
“Four.”
My stomach turned.
The photograph suddenly became more than marital sabotage.
It had been camouflage.
A distraction.
While Damian and I imploded publicly, someone stole from him.
“Victor benefited?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He argued I was distracted. Weak. Unfit to lead.”
“And after the divorce?”
“His influence increased.”
I understood.
“My marriage ended and his position improved.”
“Yes.”
“That doesn't prove it.”
“No.”
“We need proof.”
Damian studied me.
“We?”
“I’m married to you again.”
“You called it an arrangement.”
“It is.”
“That changed quickly.”
“Don't get excited.”
His mouth curved.
There.
The man I once loved.
Still there.
Buried beneath armor and bad decisions.
That afternoon, I accepted the Foundation job.
Properly.
Contract.
Salary.
Cause requirement.
My own office.
Vanessa shook my hand.
For the next week, life became strangely normal.
Work at nine.
Lunch with Ethan twice.
Dinner as a family.
Separate bedroom.
Damian knocking instead of entering.
He learned.
Slowly.
One night, Ethan had a nightmare.
I heard him call from the hallway.
I reached his room at the same time as Damian.
Ethan sat upright.
Sweating.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Nightmare?”
“No.”
Damian sat on the edge of the bed.
“Sophie isn't leaving tonight.”
Ethan looked at me.
“Are you?”
“No.”
“Tomorrow?”
“No.”
“Next week?”
My throat tightened.
“I’m not planning to.”
He lay down.
“Promise?”
I hesitated.
Damian noticed.
Ethan did too.
Finally I said, “I promise I won't disappear without telling you.”
Not forever.
Not impossible certainty.
But honest.
He nodded.
Within minutes, he slept.
In the hallway, Damian said, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Not lying to him.”
“I used to promise things I couldn't control.”
“So did I.”
We stood close.
Too close.
His eyes dropped to my mouth.
Mine probably did the same.
For one suspended second, three years disappeared.
Then footsteps approached.
Dante.
His face was serious.
“Damian.”
“What?”
“We have a problem.”
He handed over his phone.
Damian read.
His expression changed.
“What?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“Victor is missing.”
“Missing?”
“His house is empty.”
Dante continued.
“Security wiped. Phones destroyed. Safe cleaned out.”
“Where would he go?”
“We don't know.”
I looked at Damian.
“Does he know we found the original photograph?”
“He shouldn't.”
“Then why run now?”
Dante answered.
“Because somebody told him Sophie was back.”
The room went quiet.
Damian’s face hardened.
“What difference does that make?”
Dante hesitated.
“That’s what worries me.”
Two hours later, we had our answer.
A package arrived at the gate.
No return address.
Inside was a single photograph.
Not fake this time.
Me.
Standing outside my delivery building six months earlier.
Taken from across the street.
Beneath it was another.
Me on my scooter.
Another.
Me entering the grocery store.
Another.
Sleeping against the window of a twenty-four-hour laundromat.
My blood turned cold.
Damian’s hands clenched.
There had been someone watching me long before he found me.
A note lay beneath the photographs.
May you like
WELCOME HOME, SOPHIE.
YOU WERE ALWAYS SUPPOSED TO COME BACK.
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