Chapter 4

At four in the morning, the bedside lamp came on.

Adrian sat on the edge of the bed, his jacket draped over a chair.

His cuffs were undone. Vanessa’s perfume clung to his collar.

“What was that supposed to mean?”

I squeezed my eyes shut against the light.

“Which part?”

“Your messages to Vanessa.”

He set his phone on the bed.

“She says you made her sound cheap.”

“Did she consider what I might think when she sent me a picture of condoms?”

His expression froze.

“Nothing happened between us.”

“I didn’t ask.”

For once, he had no immediate response.

The bedroom went quiet.

After a while, he asked, “Why didn’t you come?”

“Where?”

“To the club. You never used to be like this.”

I looked at him.

“What did I use to be like?”

He didn’t answer.

We both knew.

Whenever I heard he was alone with Vanessa, I used to call.

If he didn’t answer, I called his assistant.

If the assistant claimed not to know, I had a driver take me there.

Once, I had stood in the club’s hallway, listening to laughter from inside a room.

Adrian came out, saw me, and said, “What are my men supposed to think when you do this?”

By the time we got home, I was the one expected to apologize.

“Did you want me to come bring you home, then tell everyone it was just a misunderstanding?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what did you want me to do?”

He opened his mouth.

For the first time, I didn’t supply the answer for him.

Adrian abruptly stood.

“Where did you go today?”

“Audrey’s office. The park. Some shops.”

“Who did you meet?”

I looked at him.

He was very good at making people answer questions.

But our marriage wasn’t a room where he got to test my loyalty.

“If a woman stops chasing you, does there have to be another man?”

“I didn’t say a man.”

“You were planning to keep asking until you got that answer, weren’t you?”

His face hardened.

“Claire, I’m making sure you’re safe.”

“Then let me reassure you. I was safe today. Safer than I feel sitting at home waiting to hear from you.”

His breathing grew heavier.

I pulled up the covers.

“I’m going to sleep.”

The light stayed on.

Just before darkness finally fell, I heard him ask quietly, “Don’t you love me anymore?”

I didn’t answer.

Over the past ten years, I had asked him so many questions.

Don’t you care about me anymore?

Could you listen to me first?

Could you stay today?

He always said I was overthinking things.

That night, he seemed to learn what it felt like to get no answer.

Over the next few days, Adrian started coming home on time.

Instead of having his assistant pass along a message, he asked me himself whether I wanted to have dinner.

I said I wasn’t hungry.

He stood there for a while, then asked the kitchen to keep something for me.

Once, he placed a guest list for a family charity dinner in front of me.

“The seating is exactly how you arranged it before. Nothing’s changed.”

I glanced at it.

“Have your secretary handle it from now on.”

His hand stopped on the page.

“Haven’t you always taken care of this?”

“That’s why it needs to be handed over.”

He stared at me, apparently waiting for the rest.

As long as you stop seeing Vanessa.

As long as you apologize.

As long as you remember next time.

But I added no conditions.

Ethan started asking what time I’d be home, too.

Then he would add, “Can you drop my fencing jacket at the tailor’s? The sleeves feel wrong.”

I wrote down the address.

“Make an appointment first. Tell him exactly what needs adjusting.”

“You used to do it for me.”

“And now you need to learn how to explain it yourself.”

They were both waiting.

Waiting for my mood to pass. Waiting for the estate to become a place where they didn’t have to think about anything again.

Only I knew that, every day, I was moving a little farther out.

My meeting with Vivian was pushed to the following week.

I used the extra time to organize my professional records.

In an old cardboard box, I found a bonus letter.

That year, a project I’d worked on had helped a client avoid a disastrously expensive acquisition.

Back then, Adrian still sat at the dinner table and listened when I talked about work.

Later, he began saying, “Things have changed out there. You don’t understand anymore.”

Eventually, he wouldn’t even bother to say the full name of what I did.

Late Thursday night, a sudden pain tore through my abdomen.

I curled up on the edge of the bed and called Adrian’s name twice.

He had been drinking earlier. Deeply asleep, he rolled over and pulled the covers toward him.

I looked at his back and stopped calling.

Picking up my phone, I contacted the night guard at the gate.

“Have a car brought to the side entrance. I need to go to the hospital.”

He immediately said he needed to notify Mr. Bellandi.

“No. Get a car first.”

I waited two minutes.

No headlights.

The guard was still trying to reach Adrian’s assistant to ask whether an escort should be arranged.

I braced myself against the wall and made my way downstairs, cold sweat soaking my nightclothes.

At the side entrance, a young bodyguard on night duty saw me and went pale.

“Ma’am—”

“Open the door.”

He didn’t ask another question. He pressed the release and reached out to steady me.

The car I had booked was already waiting at the curb.

The driver took one look at me and got out.

“Emergency room?”

I nodded.

Behind me, the bodyguard lifted his phone to report what was happening.

I didn’t stop him.

All I wanted was to get somewhere that didn’t need permission before it could take care of me.

At the hospital, a nurse asked for my emergency contact.

I gave her Audrey’s number.

“Relationship?”

“Friend.”

After the examination, I was admitted.

When it was time to sign the forms, the pain made it hard to hold the pen.

The nurse steadied the paper for me.

“Take your time. There’s no rush.”

I suddenly began to cry.

Not because of the pain.

Because it had been so long since anyone had told me I was allowed to take my time.

Adrian arrived after dawn.

His two men stopped outside the room.

When he saw me, he faltered.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I tried.”

He went still.

“You should have had someone—”

“I called the gate, too.”

His expression changed.

He took out his phone, apparently ready to find out who had failed to act.

I watched him.

“Don’t find someone to punish on my behalf.”

His hand stopped over the screen.

“Claire.”

“Last month, when someone knocked me down in the hospital parking lot and I sprained my wrist, I called you.”

It had been the night of Vanessa’s gallery opening.

Adrian slowly looked away.

“You didn’t explain.”

“I told you I couldn’t get up. I asked you to come get me.”

I kept looking at him.

“You said there were security guards and doctors. You told me not to make trouble while you were discussing business.”

He didn’t argue again.

The equipment in the room hummed quietly.

After a long time, he said, “I’m sorry.”

Once, I had fought with him through an entire night, waiting to hear those words.

Now all I wanted was to rest.

He adjusted my pillow, poured water, asked whether I was cold.

His phone kept lighting up.

Vanessa.

He declined the first call.

Then the second.

On the third, he went to the window.

“Claire’s in the hospital. I can’t come over… No, she didn’t ask me to stay… Vanessa, today isn’t a good time.”

I turned onto my side.

Ten minutes later, he came back.

“There’s a problem with the Rinaldi partnership. I need to deal with it. I’ll be back soon.”

I looked out the window and let the excuse stand.

After the door closed, I took off my wedding ring.

A pale band circled the base of my finger.

I also removed the fine chain that marked me as one of the family’s women and placed it beside the ring.

Taking off a piece of jewelry wouldn’t automatically make the family stop recognizing who I was.

But no piece of jewelry could require me to stay, either.

I rubbed my fingertip over the pale skin.

Sunlight fell across my hand.

At last, that small strip of skin could feel it, too.

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