Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN THEY UNDERESTIMATED
Walter wanted Carrie moved immediately.
“No.”
“Mrs. Marino—”
“Carrie.”
Walter blinked.
“If you resigned, you’re not my employee anymore. So please call me Carrie.”
For the first time that day, the older man almost smiled.
“Fine. Carrie. We need to move you.”
That she agreed with.
Within an hour, Amelia arranged a short-term furnished apartment under the name of her law firm. Daniel drove Carrie through two unnecessary turns before taking her there.
Nobody followed them.
As far as they could tell.
The apartment was small but beautiful, overlooking a quiet residential street.
Carrie stood in the living room after everyone left.
There was no chandelier.
No art worth millions.
No staff.
No Dominic.
She opened the refrigerator.
Maria had stocked it.
A handwritten note sat beside a container of soup.
Eat. The baby outranks everyone.
Carrie laughed.
It was the first time she had laughed since leaving home.
Then she cried because she had laughed.
Pregnancy, she decided, was humiliating.
Her phone rang.
Dr. Bennett.
“You missed my call yesterday.”
“I’m sorry.”
“How are the readings?”
Carrie told her.
The doctor became serious.
“I want you resting. Stress can worsen this quickly.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
Carrie looked at the financial records covering the dining table.
“Probably not.”
“Caroline.”
“I’ll rest.”
She meant it.
For approximately eleven minutes.
Then she opened the laptop.
The invoices Walter had found were not random.
They formed a pattern.
Over four years, consulting payments had flowed from Marino subsidiaries into Langford Strategic Consulting.
Small enough individually to avoid certain board reviews.
Large enough collectively to total more than thirty-one million dollars.
Carrie stared at the spreadsheet.
Thirty-one million.
Vanessa had not entered Dominic’s bedroom because she loved him.
She had entered his company long before that.
Dominic confronted Vanessa that evening.
She was in the estate wine room selecting a bottle.
He placed a printed access log on the table.
“You lied.”
Vanessa barely glanced at it.
“About?”
“You requested Carrie’s archive.”
“I told you why.”
“No. You told Rebecca I authorized it.”
Vanessa sighed.
“Dominic, you’re exhausted.”
“Answer me.”
She put down the bottle.
“Fine. Carrie has been involved in strategic decisions for years. You need continuity.”
“You’re in development. Not internal audit.”
“Your wife left you.”
“My wife leaving does not give you authority over confidential files.”
Vanessa’s expression changed.
It was subtle.
But Dominic saw it.
For years, he had built his reputation by detecting fear across negotiation tables.
Vanessa had just shown him some.
“What’s in those files?” he asked.
“Ask Carrie.”
“I’m asking you.”
Vanessa stepped closer.
“You know what your problem is?”
Dominic said nothing.
“You’re still protecting her.”
He almost laughed.
“Protecting her?”
“Yes. After she embarrassed you. Turned your staff against you. Turned your mother against you.”
“My mother is capable of making her own decisions.”
“And Carrie isn’t?”
Vanessa touched his chest.
“She left because she wanted you to panic.”
Dominic caught her wrist.
Not violently.
Firmly.
“Don’t.”
Vanessa looked down at his hand.
He released her.
For the first time, the intimacy between them felt ugly to him.
Not exciting.
Not rebellious.
Ugly.
He remembered Carrie standing in the bedroom doorway.
One hand beneath her stomach.
Waiting.
He had known she was waiting for him to say something.
He had chosen inconvenience over courage.
Sleep in the guest room.
God.
What had he done?
Vanessa mistook his silence.
“She’ll come back.”
Dominic looked at her.
Those were the exact words he had used.
Now they sounded ridiculous.
“What if she doesn’t?”
Vanessa smiled.
“Then you’re free.”
Something inside him recoiled.
Carrie met Amelia and Rebecca the next morning.
Rebecca had insisted on meeting outside Marino Holdings.
They chose a quiet café.
Carrie slid copies of the invoices across the table.
Rebecca read them.
Her face drained of color.
“Where did you get these?”
“Walter.”
Rebecca turned another page.
“This approval code belongs to Strategic Development.”
“Vanessa?”
“Her department.”
Carrie’s chest tightened.
“Does Dominic know?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“I don’t think so.”
Carrie looked away.
A small, foolish part of her had wanted proof Dominic was not involved.
She hated that part of herself.
Rebecca noticed.
“You still love him.”
Carrie’s eyes returned to hers.
“That isn’t the same as trusting him.”
“No.”
Rebecca closed the folder.
“It isn’t.”
Amelia leaned forward.
“Could these payments be legitimate?”
“Possibly,” Rebecca said. “But if they were, Vanessa wouldn’t need Carrie’s archived files.”
Carrie opened her laptop.
“I found something else.”
She showed them a list of acquisitions.
“Every company connected to these consulting payments was acquired after I recommended against buying it.”
Rebecca frowned.
“But Marino Holdings bought them anyway.”
“Exactly.”
“Who reversed your recommendation?”
Carrie looked at her.
“Dominic.”
Silence.
Rebecca slowly leaned back.
Carrie continued.
“Each time, Vanessa gave him a competing analysis.”
Rebecca whispered, “Jesus.”
Amelia asked the question Carrie was afraid to ask.
“What if Vanessa wasn’t trying to steal your husband?”
Carrie looked toward the rain outside.
“What if she was trying to control the person who could override you?”
That afternoon, Dominic received a courier envelope.
Inside was Carrie’s wedding ring.
Nothing else.
No letter.
No accusation.
No demand.
Just the ring.
He sat alone in his office for a long time.
Nine years earlier, he had slipped that ring onto Carrie’s finger in a small church in Connecticut.
He remembered how badly his hands had shaken.
She had whispered, “You look terrified.”
He had whispered back, “I am.”
“Why?”
“Because I finally have something worth losing.”
Dominic closed his fist around the ring.
He had spent nine years becoming rich enough to believe he could not lose anything.
Apparently he had forgotten his own warning.
His phone rang.
Security.
“Mr. Marino, there’s been an incident.”
“What incident?”
“A man attempted to access the archive floor using a contractor badge.”
Dominic stood.
“Where is he?”
“He ran.”
“Get the cameras.”
“There’s another issue.”
“What?”
“The archive room was already open.”
Dominic went cold.
“Who accessed it?”
A pause.
“Vanessa Langford.”
Carrie woke at 2:13 a.m. with pain beneath her ribs.
She sat upright.
Something was wrong.
Her vision blurred when she stood.
She reached for the blood pressure monitor.
The number appeared.
172/111.
Carrie stared at it.
Then she called Dr. Bennett.
The doctor answered on the second ring.
“Go to the hospital now.”
Carrie called Daniel.
He arrived nine minutes later.
During the drive, Carrie held her belly and whispered to her daughter.
“Stay with me.”
Daniel drove faster.
At Westchester Medical Center, nurses rushed Carrie into obstetric triage.
Blood tests.
Fetal monitoring.
IV.
Questions.
Lights.
Carrie lay beneath a thin hospital blanket listening to her daughter’s heartbeat on the monitor.
Fast.
Steady.
Beautiful.
Then Dr. Bennett entered.
“You have severe preeclampsia.”
Carrie’s throat tightened.
“What happens now?”
“We try to stabilize you.”
“And if you can’t?”
Dr. Bennett sat beside her.
“We deliver the baby.”
Carrie looked at the monitor.
“Tonight?”
“Possibly.”
Fear swallowed everything else.
The marriage.
Vanessa.
The money.
The invoices.
None of it mattered.
Only that heartbeat.
Carrie reached for her phone.
Her thumb hovered over Dominic’s name.
She stared at it.
Then lowered the phone.
She called Margaret instead.
Twenty-three minutes later, Margaret entered the hospital room wearing slippers beneath her coat.
Carrie burst into tears.
Margaret wrapped both arms around her.
“I’m here.”
Carrie held onto her.
“I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“What if she’s too early?”
“Then we love her early.”
Carrie cried harder.
Margaret kissed her forehead.
“You are not doing this alone.”
Outside the room, Daniel stood guard.
He noticed the man at the end of the hallway before anyone else did.
Black jacket.
Baseball cap.
Watching Carrie’s door.
Daniel stepped forward.
The stranger turned and walked quickly toward the elevator.
Daniel followed.
By the time the elevator opened, the man was gone.
But something lay on the floor.
A white envelope.
Daniel picked it up.
Carrie’s name was written across the front.
May you like
Inside was one sentence.
STOP DIGGING, OR NEXT TIME THE BABY WON’T SURVIVE.
