Chapter 4 - The Woman Who Claimed My Husband Was LyingGianna Santoro lived in a beautiful townhouse on the Upper East Side, three blocks from a private school and directly across from a small neighborhood park.

It was the kind of place where wealthy parents pushed expensive strollers and elderly couples walked tiny dogs that wore sweaters.

Nothing about it suggested violence.

Except the broken front window.

And the police car parked outside.

By the time our SUV stopped, Niko had already made six calls.

His voice remained calm, but I'd spent enough time watching him to notice the tension in his jaw.

"Marco, check the rear entrance," he ordered.

The security chief nodded.

I reached for the door.

Niko caught my hand.

"Wait."

I turned toward him.

He looked at our joined hands, then released mine.

"The police are still checking the property."

"I'm aware."

"I don't want you anywhere near a possible second attack."

"And I don't want your sister missing."

Something flashed in his eyes.

He nodded.

"Neither do I."

Detective Ortiz appeared on the townhouse steps.

I recognized her immediately.

She looked surprised to see us.

"Mr. Santoro."

"Where's my sister?"

"We're searching for her."

"What do you mean, searching?"

"Her car is in the garage. Her phone was found in the kitchen. We believe someone entered through a side window."

Niko's face went pale.

It was the first time I'd seen fear break through his carefully controlled expression.

Then a woman's voice called from behind us.

"Niko!"

We turned.

A tall brunette in a cream-colored coat hurried toward the police line.

She was stunning.

Elegant.

Perfectly dressed.

And very obviously familiar with my husband.

"Niko, thank God."

Before anyone could stop her, she rushed forward and wrapped both arms around him.

He stiffened.

"Vanessa."

I recognized the name.

Vanessa Cole.

The woman from the old newspaper article.

The one who had publicly accused Niko of coercion before withdrawing her allegations.

She pulled back and touched his cheek.

"I was so worried."

Niko removed her hand.

"What are you doing here?"

Her eyes moved toward me.

Then to my wedding ring.

Her expression changed.

"So it's true."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Depends which part."

She looked me up and down.

"You must be Clara."

"And you must be Vanessa."

Her smile was thin.

"I see Niko hasn't told you about me."

"He has a fascinating talent for leaving out details."

Niko exhaled sharply.

"Vanessa, why are you here?"

She looked toward the house.

"Gianna called me."

"When?"

"Late last night. She sounded frightened."

"What did she say?"

"That she'd found something connected to Eleanor Shaw."

My stomach tightened.

Niko stepped closer.

"What exactly?"

Vanessa opened her handbag.

She removed a white envelope.

"I think you should see this privately."

She glanced at me.

"Preferably without an audience."

I smiled.

"I'm his wife, not a reporter."

Her eyes narrowed.

"That doesn't mean you're entitled to every family secret."

Niko's voice turned cold.

"Give me the envelope."

Vanessa hesitated.

Then obeyed.

Inside was a photograph.

Niko stood outside a restaurant beside Dominic Rusk.

The date stamped in the corner was three years earlier.

Both men were smiling.

Rusk's hand rested on Niko's shoulder.

I looked at my husband.

"You know him."

Niko studied the photograph.

"Yes."

"You told me he was dangerous."

"He is."

"Then why are you smiling with him?"

"Because the photograph was taken before I understood what he was doing."

Vanessa gave a quiet laugh.

"Is that what you're telling her?"

Niko turned toward her.

"Careful."

"She deserves the truth."

"Then tell it."

Vanessa glanced at me.

"Three years ago, Niko and Dominic were negotiating a business partnership."

My stomach dropped.

"What kind?"

"A redevelopment project."

I stared at Niko.

"The same kind my mother was investigating?"

He looked at me.

"Not exactly."

"That's not a denial."

Vanessa folded her arms.

"He doesn't like being questioned."

"Vanessa," Niko warned.

I stepped between them.

"No. I want to hear this."

For several seconds, no one spoke.

Then Niko looked at me.

"Three years ago, Rusk approached Santoro Holdings with a proposal to finance several housing developments. He concealed his ownership interests through holding companies."

"And you agreed?"

"We began negotiations."

"Did you invest?"

"No. My legal team found irregularities before the contracts were signed."

Vanessa laughed softly.

"Such a convenient explanation."

Niko turned toward her.

"Tell Clara why you were at those meetings."

Her smile vanished.

"What?"

"You were Rusk's representative."

I stared at her.

Vanessa went very still.

"That's not fair."

"You introduced us," Niko continued. "You brought him to my office. You personally delivered the initial contracts."

She looked at me.

"He's twisting things."

"Then explain them."

Her jaw tightened.

"I worked in private investment. That's not a crime."

"No," Niko said. "But hiding beneficial ownership documents from your clients is."

Her face went white.

"Be careful what you accuse me of."

He stepped closer.

"Where is my sister?"

Vanessa blinked.

"What?"

"You said Gianna called you. Where is she?"

"I don't know!"

"Then how did you know she'd found evidence about Eleanor Shaw?"

Vanessa opened her mouth.

Closed it.

For the first time, she looked genuinely frightened.

"I was trying to help."

Niko's voice lowered.

"Who sent you?"

She looked toward the police.

"Nobody."

"Vanessa."

Her hands began trembling.

Then she whispered, "He said he would kill my brother."

Silence.

Niko stepped back.

"Rusk?"

She nodded.

"He called me yesterday. He knew where my brother was staying. He knew his wife was pregnant."

Tears filled her eyes.

"He told me to bring you the photograph and keep you outside Gianna's house until nine thirty."

I checked my phone.

9:27.

Niko's face changed.

"Marco!"

His voice cut through the morning.

"Get everyone away from the house. Now!"

The next thirty seconds were chaos.

Police officers shouted.

A security guard grabbed Vanessa.

Marco seized my arm and dragged me toward the SUV.

Niko ran toward the townhouse.

I screamed his name.

Then a violent explosion shattered the rear windows.

The sound struck like a physical blow.

Glass rained across the sidewalk.

Smoke burst from an upper floor.

Car alarms began shrieking.

I fell against the SUV.

Marco covered me with his body.

For several seconds, I heard nothing but a high ringing sound.

Then I saw Niko.

He was running back toward us.

Blood streaked one side of his face.

But he was standing.

Alive.

He reached me and gripped my shoulders.

"Are you hurt?"

I shook my head.

"Gianna—"

"She's not inside."

"How do you know?"

"The blast came from a storage room. The police had already cleared the main house."

I stared at the smoke.

"Then why set it off?"

Niko looked toward Vanessa.

She was sitting on the curb, sobbing.

"To frighten us," he said.

Marco shook his head.

"No. To destroy something."

Niko turned.

"What?"

"The fire started near Gianna's study. Someone wanted to make sure whatever she found couldn't be recovered."

I looked at the townhouse.

Then I remembered Vanessa's words.

Keep you outside until nine thirty.

"Wait."

Niko looked at me.

"She was supposed to delay you."

"Yes."

"But if the purpose was to destroy evidence, wouldn't they want you away from the building completely?"

Niko's eyes narrowed.

"What are you thinking?"

"I think someone wanted you standing outside when the explosion happened."

Marco understood first.

"So witnesses would see him here."

I nodded.

"Maybe someone wants the police to believe Niko destroyed his sister's house."

Niko stared at me.

Then slowly looked toward the police vehicles.

Detective Ortiz was already approaching.

"Mr. Santoro, we need you to come with us."

His expression became cold.

"Am I under arrest?"

"Not at this moment."

"Then ask your questions here."

She glanced toward the burning townhouse.

"We have information suggesting explosives were brought into the property by a contractor connected to Santoro Holdings."

Marco swore.

Niko barely reacted.

But I saw the calculation happening behind his eyes.

Rusk was creating evidence.

Manufacturing suspicion.

Turning Niko's own resources against him.

And if he could convince investigators that Niko had endangered Gianna, then the marriage would no longer protect me.

I stepped forward.

"Detective."

She looked at me.

"Yes?"

"You should know that Vanessa Cole received instructions to keep my husband outside the house until a specific time."

Vanessa lifted her head.

"No!"

I pointed toward her.

"She admitted it minutes before the explosion."

Ortiz looked sharply at Vanessa.

"Is that true?"

Vanessa started crying harder.

Niko looked at me.

For a moment, his expression held unmistakable surprise.

Then something warmer.

Pride, perhaps.

The detective motioned to another officer.

"Bring Ms. Cole in for questioning."

Vanessa struggled to stand.

"Niko, please!"

He didn't move.

"Tell them everything," he said.

"You know what Dominic will do!"

Niko's voice remained steady.

"If you keep protecting him, more people will die."

She stared at him.

Then allowed the officer to escort her away.

An hour later, the fire department had secured the property.

Gianna was still missing.

Niko stood beside the SUV, speaking into his phone with growing frustration.

I sat inside, staring at a photograph of my mother on my screen.

She wore a blue summer dress.

Her hair fell over one shoulder.

She was laughing at something outside the camera frame.

I barely noticed Niko climb into the seat beside me.

"Clara."

I turned.

"Did they find her?"

"No."

My heart sank.

"But Marco located a witness who saw a woman matching her description leave the house early this morning."

"With someone?"

"Alone."

I frowned.

"Then maybe she escaped."

"Maybe."

He studied my face.

"Are you all right?"

I almost laughed.

"Which part?"

His expression softened.

"Any part."

I looked down.

"I don't know."

He sat quietly beside me.

For several minutes, neither of us spoke.

Then I noticed blood near his temple.

"You're hurt."

"It's nothing."

"That's not nothing."

I reached for a clean tissue in my bag.

He watched me.

"Clara—"

"Hold still."

He obeyed.

I gently wiped the blood from his forehead.

The cut was shallow, but the skin around it was bruised.

He winced.

"Sorry."

"It's fine."

I leaned closer.

He smelled faintly of expensive cologne and smoke.

His eyes remained on my face.

And suddenly I became painfully aware of how close we were.

I withdrew my hand.

"There."

"Thank you."

I looked toward the window.

"Don't make a habit of running toward explosions."

His mouth curved.

"I'll try."

"That's not reassuring."

"No," he admitted. "I suppose it isn't."

Something shifted between us.

Not trust.

Not yet.

But the beginning of an understanding.

He was frightened for his sister.

I was frightened for my father, even though I could barely stand the thought of him.

And both of us were trapped inside a danger neither had fully understood.

Niko looked at me.

"You were right earlier."

"About what?"

"Vanessa was supposed to make sure I was seen near the house."

I nodded.

"And the contractor?"

"Someone used forged work orders from one of my companies."

"Can you prove it?"

"We're trying."

I hesitated.

"Niko, why did Vanessa accuse you publicly three years ago?"

He looked away.

The question clearly hurt.

"Because I discovered she was passing information to Rusk. When I ended our relationship and removed her from the business, she retaliated."

"Was any of what she claimed true?"

He turned toward me.

"No."

I studied him.

"Did you threaten her family?"

"No."

"Did you ever force her to stay with you?"

His expression became grave.

"Never."

I wanted to believe him.

But my mother had taught me that wanting to believe something wasn't evidence.

He seemed to understand.

"My attorneys can provide you with the settlement documents, correspondence, and the records she agreed to make public when she retracted her allegations. Read everything yourself."

I nodded.

"All right."

He didn't look offended.

Instead, he seemed relieved that I'd asked.

My phone buzzed.

An unknown number.

I answered before Niko could stop me.

"Hello?"

A woman's voice spoke quietly.

"Clara Shaw?"

"Who's this?"

"My name is Gianna."

I sat upright.

Niko immediately turned.

"Gianna?"

"Don't tell my brother where I am."

I froze.

"Why?"

Her breathing sounded uneven.

"Because someone inside his security team is working for Rusk."

I stared at Niko.

"What?"

Gianna lowered her voice.

"I found a recording in my mother's old files. It proves Eleanor Shaw was alive hours after the supposed crash."

My hands began shaking.

"Where are you?"

"Somewhere safe. For now."

"Then why won't you tell Niko?"

"Because I tried to contact him yesterday."

I looked toward my husband.

He was watching me closely.

"What happened?"

"A man answered his private line."

"Marco?"

"No."

"Then who?"

Gianna hesitated.

"His uncle Vittorio."

My heart stopped.

"Vittorio?"

"Yes."

"Why is that dangerous?"

Her voice cracked.

"Because I recognized his voice on the recording."

I couldn't breathe.

"Doing what?"

Gianna whispered, "Ordering someone to keep your mother alive until she surrendered the ledger."

Then another sound came through the phone.

A door opening.

Gianna gasped.

"Oh, God."

"Gianna?"

Footsteps.

A man's voice.

"Found you."

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone.

Niko touched my shoulder.

"Clara. Who was that?"

I looked at him.

I remembered his promise.

No more secrets.

I remembered his uncle.

His sister.

The explosion.

And the terrifying possibility that someone standing inside his family had been involved in my mother's death.

"It was Gianna," I whispered.

Niko went rigid.

"Where is she?"

"I don't know."

"What did she say?"

I held his gaze.

"She said your uncle was involved in what happened to my mother."

Niko became completely still.

Then I told him the rest.

When I finished, his expression changed into something I'd never seen before.

Pure, controlled fury.

He reached for his phone.

But I caught his wrist.

"Niko."

He looked at me.

"She said someone inside your security team is working for Rusk."

His eyes moved toward the windshield.

Marco stood several feet away, speaking to two officers.

For one horrible moment, I wondered whether the man who'd protected me that morning had been leading us into traps.

Niko stared at him.

Then slowly placed his phone back in his pocket.

"You're right," he said.

"What do we do?"

He looked at me.

"We stop telling people where we're going."

"And Gianna?"

"We find her."

"How?"

Niko's gaze shifted toward the brass key hanging from my handbag.

"First, we find out what your mother left at the bank."

I swallowed.

"And then?"

His voice became dangerously quiet.

"Then we find out which people in my family deserve to keep their freedom."

We left without announcing our destination.

Neither of us noticed the dark sedan that pulled away from the opposite curb three minutes later.

Inside, a man raised his phone.

"He's taking the girl to the bank," he said.

A pause.

Then he added, "Yes, sir. She has the key."

The man on the other end of the call laughed softly.

"Good."

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Another pause.

"Make sure she opens the box before you take her."