Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN IN RED
Celeste Vale had always understood that beautiful women were underestimated most effectively when they encouraged it.
Men saw the red dresses.
The champagne.
The soft voice.
They rarely saw the arithmetic.
She sat inside Gideon's townhouse at six in the morning, barefoot, watching him pour coffee.
“You weren't supposed to take the baby.”
Gideon did not turn.
“The plan changed.”
“You said Mara would die in the crash.”
“She didn't.”
“And now Dominic knows.”
“He knows what I want him to know.”
Celeste stood.
“You promised me Dominic.”
Gideon smiled.
That frightened her.
“I promised you access.”
Celeste's expression hardened.
“You said once Mara was gone—”
“Dominic would choose you? Perhaps. He certainly enjoyed you.”
Celeste slapped him.
Gideon barely moved.
Then he caught her wrist.
“You were useful because you mistook obsession for ambition.”
“You need me.”
“No.”
He released her.
“I needed Dominic to believe he needed you.”
For the first time, Celeste understood.
She had never been Gideon's partner.
She had been bait.
At Saint Mercy's, Mara studied the flash drive with Marco while Dominic stood at the window.
“There,” she said.
A transaction appeared repeatedly every October.
F. Vascari Trust.
Dominic turned.
“That trust was dissolved twenty-three years ago.”
“Who was F. Vascari?” Marco asked.
Dominic's voice became quiet.
“My aunt Francesca.”
The room fell silent.
“My father said she died.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
Mara looked at the transfer dates.
“Apparently dead women are expensive.”
Marco searched old corporate documents.
His eyebrows lifted.
“Francesca Vascari owned twenty percent of the original waterfront company.”
“Before my father consolidated it.”
“No. Before someone declared her legally dead.”
Dominic understood.
If Francesca was alive, his father's consolidation of the empire had been fraudulent.
Gideon wasn't merely stealing Dominic's organization.
He was restoring ownership to someone.
A knock came at the door.
Two uniformed police officers entered.
“Dominic Vascari?”
Marco immediately shifted.
“What?”
“We need Mr. Vascari to come with us regarding the disappearance of an infant.”
Dominic almost laughed.
Then he saw their hands.
Neither officer rested a hand near his weapon.
Real cops entering a room with Dominic Vascari always did.
“Which precinct?”
The taller officer hesitated.
Dominic moved first.
He drove the man's wrist against the doorframe.
Marco tackled the second.
A syringe hit the floor.
Hannah shouted for security.
Within seconds both men were restrained.
Dominic picked up the syringe.
“They're cleaning the hospital.”
Mara looked toward the hall.
“Then they know I'm awake.”
Dominic turned to Marco.
“Move her.”
Hannah stepped between them.
“She is not medically stable.”
“She'll be dead if she stays.”
“He's right,” Mara said.
Hannah stared at her.
Mara's eyes did not move.
“Help me leave.”
Twenty-seven minutes later, Mara was transferred through a service tunnel to a private rehabilitation wing connected to an older hospital building.
Only Hannah, Marco, and Dominic knew.
Dominic walked beside the bed.
Mara watched him.
“You don't have to stay.”
“Yes.”
“Dominic.”
“I left once.”
She understood what he meant.
He had not physically abandoned her that night eight months ago.
But he had chosen disbelief.
Sometimes that was the same thing.
“You can't fix this by guarding a door.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He looked at her.
“I don't know how to fix it.”
It was possibly the first time she had ever heard Dominic Vascari admit he did not know something.
Mara's anger weakened.
Not disappeared.
Just weakened.
“Start by bringing our daughter home.”
Our.
Dominic's eyes changed.
Then Marco's phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
“Dominic.”
“What?”
“We found Celeste.”
They arrived at Gideon's townhouse forty minutes later.
The front door stood open.
Inside, furniture had been overturned.
A trail of blood led toward the kitchen.
Dominic found Celeste sitting against a cabinet, pressing a towel against her side.
She laughed weakly when she saw him.
“Not quite the reunion I imagined.”
“Where is Gideon?”
“Gone.”
“My daughter?”
“I don't know.”
Dominic crouched.
Celeste looked at him.
“You hate me.”
“I haven't decided what I feel.”
“I knew about the surveillance. I knew Gideon wanted Mara frightened. I didn't know he planned to kill her.”
“You asked about her car.”
“He told me he wanted to track her.”
“You sent him confirmation she was pregnant.”
Tears filled Celeste's eyes.
“Yes.”
Dominic stood.
“Then whatever happens next, you earned part of it.”
“Dominic.”
He stopped.
Celeste reached beneath her dress and pulled out a key.
“He keeps an archive.”
“Where?”
“Old Saint Agnes Clinic.”
Marco looked up sharply.
The abandoned clinic sat beside Saint Agnes Church.
Four bells at the hour.
Two at the half-hour.
Dominic took the key.
Celeste caught his sleeve.
“There's something else.”
“What?”
“Gideon didn't choose that clinic.”
“Who did?”
Celeste looked terrified.
“Your aunt.”
Dominic stared.
“Francesca is alive.”
A voice came from the doorway.
“No.”
Everyone turned.
An elegant silver-haired woman stood beneath the arch, a pistol steady in her hand.
“She was alive.”
Her gaze settled on Dominic.
“I buried her twelve years ago.”
Dominic recognized her from childhood photographs.
His father's younger sister.
The woman officially dead for twenty-three years.
“Francesca?”
The woman smiled sadly.
“No, Dominic.”
May you like
She raised the gun.
“I'm her daughter.”
