Chapter 2 - THE SECRET IN THE MEDICAL FILE
Claire woke to Maya knocking softly on the bedroom door.
"Coffee?"
"No, thank you."
"Tea?"
Claire opened her eyes.
"Maybe."
Maya entered carrying a mug and a plate of toast.
"You need to eat."
"I know."
"You've said that every morning for three days."
Claire pushed herself upright.
Maya watched her carefully.
"How bad is it today?"
"Not terrible."
"That's not an answer."
Claire looked toward the window.
Chicago was gray beneath a thin November rain. Cars moved along the street, their headlights reflected in wet pavement.
"I don't want to talk about Dominic."
"I didn't ask about Dominic."
Claire looked at her.
Maya sighed.
"I asked how you feel."
Claire took the mug.
"My heart is still racing sometimes."
"Then we go to the appointment."
"I will."
"Today."
Claire nodded.
The appointment was at two.
For three weeks, she had been experiencing exhaustion, dizziness, and episodes in which her heart seemed to stumble against her ribs. She had blamed stress at first. Then she had blamed the relentless dinners at the Castellano house, where she had learned to push food around her plate while Salvatore watched.
Her doctor had not accepted either explanation.
Blood work had led to more blood work.
An ultrasound had led to another appointment.
Then the cardiology referral.
And beneath all of it was the fact Claire had not yet told Dominic that she was pregnant.
She had discovered it two days before the dinner where he told her to leave.
She had carried the knowledge alone.
Maya knew.
Her doctor knew.
Nobody else.
At the clinic, Claire sat in a paper gown while the technician reviewed the monitor.
"Your heart rhythm is irregular at times," the doctor explained. "It may be related to the stress your body has been under, but I want to investigate it properly."
Claire swallowed.
"Is the baby okay?"
The doctor smiled gently.
"The pregnancy looks reassuring."
Even after hearing the words, Claire felt something inside her loosen.
Baby.
There was really a baby.
A tiny life she had already loved for days.
"How far along?"
"Almost nine weeks."
Claire looked down.
Nine weeks.
Nine weeks since the night Dominic had held her on the kitchen floor because she had cried after a difficult dinner.
Nine weeks since he had kissed her forehead and promised that whatever happened, they would handle it together.
She closed her eyes.
The promise felt like something from another person's life.
The doctor continued.
"You need rest. Regular meals. Hydration. And no ignoring symptoms."
Claire nodded.
"I understand."
When she left the examination room, Maya was waiting.
"Well?"
Claire held the envelope against her chest.
"I'm pregnant."
Maya's eyes filled immediately.
"Oh, Claire."
"Nine weeks."
Maya hugged her.
For several seconds, Claire allowed herself to cry.
Then she whispered, "He doesn't know."
"Does he?"
"No."
"Are you going to tell him?"
Claire looked at the floor.
"I don't know."
Maya pulled back.
"You have to make that decision because you want to, not because you're afraid of him."
"I know."
"And because he's the father, eventually he will know."
Claire nodded.
But the thought of seeing Dominic made her stomach tighten.
At the same time, across the city, Dominic sat in his father's office.
Salvatore poured himself whiskey.
"You look distracted."
"I'm fine."
"Claire?"
Dominic's jaw tightened.
"She left."
"I heard."
"You knew?"
Salvatore shrugged.
"Your wife has always been emotional."
Dominic looked at him sharply.
"She told me she wasn't well."
"She has been saying that for months."
"Exactly."
Salvatore took a drink.
"Perhaps she needs discipline."
Dominic stood.
"Don't talk about her like that."
The room went quiet.
His father studied him.
"Interesting."
"What?"
"You defend her now."
Dominic stared at him.
"I never said I didn't."
"You didn't have to."
Salvatore placed the glass down.
"The board meets Friday. Your marriage has become a distraction. The Falcone family is already asking whether your judgment has softened."
"My marriage has nothing to do with the board."
"In our world, everything has to do with the board."
Dominic turned toward the window.
Below, Chicago moved beneath a cold sky.
He thought about the medical card.
"Did you know Claire had a cardiology appointment?"
Salvatore's expression changed for less than a second.
Dominic noticed.
"You knew."
"I knew she was seeing doctors."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because she was your wife, not mine."
Dominic's voice became quiet.
"Don't lie to me."
Salvatore smiled faintly.
"You are emotional because she left."
Dominic stepped closer.
"Did you ever want her in this family?"
His father didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Dominic left.
In the hallway, Marco was waiting.
"Sir."
"What?"
"We found something."
Marco handed him a thin folder.
"We checked the financial accounts Claire managed for the foundation."
Dominic opened it.
"There are transfers."
"Millions."
"Where?"
"Companies connected to your father."
Dominic's eyes hardened.
"How long?"
"At least two years."
He looked again.
Claire had been the person reviewing those accounts.
Suddenly, every conversation from the last six months returned to him.
Her questions.
Her exhaustion.
The nights she had stayed awake over spreadsheets.
The way she had once told him, "Dominic, something isn't right."
He had kissed her and said she was worrying too much.
He had never looked.
Marco spoke quietly.
"There's more."
Dominic lifted his eyes.
"Claire was preparing a report."
"Where is it?"
"We don't know."
Dominic closed the folder.
"Find it."
"And Claire?"
Dominic stared toward the elevator.
"Don't touch her."
Marco nodded.
Dominic's phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
You threw out the wrong woman.
Beneath it was a photograph.
Claire leaving the clinic.
Her hand rested protectively over her stomach.
Dominic stared at the image.
His world narrowed to one thought.
Why was Claire at a maternity clinic?
Dominic drove without his usual convoy.
Marco objected.
"You shouldn't be alone."
"I'm not going to war."
"That's exactly when people get careless."
Dominic ignored him.
The photograph remained on his phone.
Claire at the clinic.
Hand over her stomach.
He had seen her stand like that before.
At breakfast.
At the kitchen counter.
On the balcony.
He had mistaken the gesture for fatigue.
Now every memory carried a different meaning.
When he reached Maya's building, he stayed in the car for nearly five minutes.
Then he stepped out.
Maya opened the apartment door before he knocked.
She looked at him once.
"No."
Dominic blinked.
"I haven't said anything."
"You don't have to."
"I need to see Claire."
"She doesn't want to see you."
"Please."
The word sounded unfamiliar coming from him.
Maya noticed.
"So now you're polite?"
Dominic lowered his voice.
"She has a cardiology appointment."
Maya's expression changed.
"You know?"
"I found the card."
"And the pregnancy?"
Dominic went still.
Maya closed her eyes.
"She hasn't told you."
"No."
"Then you need to understand something before you go inside."
"What?"
"Claire isn't leaving you because she hates you."
Dominic looked at her.
"She's leaving because she finally believes you don't love her."
His throat tightened.
"That's not true."
"Then prove it by listening."
Maya stepped aside.
Claire was sitting near the window.
She wore a loose gray sweater and soft pants. Her hair was pulled back. A blanket covered her legs.
She looked smaller than he remembered.
Or perhaps the mansion had simply made her seem larger by swallowing everything around her.
She saw him.
Her expression went blank.
"How did you find me?"
Dominic stopped several feet away.
"Marco gave me the address."
"You shouldn't have come."
"I know."
Claire looked at Maya.
"Can we have a minute?"
Maya hesitated.
"Call me if you need me."
When she left, silence filled the room.
Dominic held out the silver necklace.
"You forgot this."
Claire looked at it.
"No. I left it."
He lowered his hand.
"I found the appointment card."
Her shoulders stiffened.
"And?"
"And I saw the vitamins."
Claire closed her eyes.
Dominic whispered, "Are you pregnant?"
She opened them.
"Yes."
The word destroyed every defense he had.
Dominic sat down slowly.
"How long have you known?"
"Nine weeks."
"And you were going to tell me?"
"I was."
"When?"
"Before you told me to leave."
He looked down.
The shame was immediate and brutal.
"You were pregnant when I said that."
"Yes."
He covered his mouth.
"Claire."
"Don't."
"I didn't know."
"You didn't ask."
The sentence was quiet.
It cut deeper than anger.
He looked at her.
"Is the baby okay?"
"So far."
"And you?"
She gave a tired smile.
"Apparently I'm not."
"What does that mean?"
"My heart has been acting strangely. I'm being monitored."
Dominic's face tightened.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Claire stared at him.
"I tried."
"When?"
"Almost every week."
He remembered.
"You said you were tired."
"I was."
"You said you were dizzy."
"I was."
"You said your chest hurt."
Claire nodded.
"And you told me to rest."
Dominic looked away.
"I thought—"
"I know what you thought."
He swallowed.
"I was wrong."
"Yes."
She did not soften it.
Dominic had faced enemies with guns, judges with questions, and men who wanted him dead.
None of them had ever made him feel as defenseless as one exhausted woman sitting beneath a blanket.
"I am sorry."
Claire looked at him.
"Are you sorry because you hurt me, or because you found out I'm carrying your child?"
His answer came immediately.
"Because I hurt you."
She studied him.
He continued.
"The baby changes what I need to do. It doesn't change what I did."
Something flickered in her eyes.
It wasn't forgiveness.
But it wasn't nothing.
Dominic leaned forward.
"I can't undo that night."
"No."
"But I can stop pretending it was just an argument."
Claire's fingers tightened around the blanket.
"It wasn't."
"I know."
"You humiliated me in front of your family."
"I know."
"You knew I was sick."
"I know."
"You watched your father criticize my body while I sat beside you."
Dominic closed his eyes.
"I know."
Her voice broke.
"I wanted you to stand up for me."
He looked at her.
"I should have."
"You should have."
Silence.
Then Claire whispered, "There's something else."
Dominic waited.
"I found financial records."
His attention sharpened.
"What records?"
"Transfers from the Castellano Foundation."
"To your father's companies."
He froze.
"How did you know?"
"I was reviewing the charity accounts because Salvatore asked me to prepare a report."
Dominic stared at her.
"Why would he ask you?"
"Because he wanted me to sign something."
"What?"
"A statement saying the transfers were legitimate."
"And they weren't."
"No."
Dominic stood.
"Where are the records?"
"Safe."
"Where?"
She shook her head.
"Not yet."
He understood.
"You don't trust me."
Claire looked down.
"I don't know who I trust."
That answer hurt more than he expected.
Dominic walked toward the door.
"I'll leave."
She looked up.
"Why?"
"Because you asked me not to control you."
He placed the necklace on the table.
"I won't."
At the doorway, Claire spoke.
"Dominic."
He turned.
She hesitated.
"Don't tell your father about the baby."
His expression hardened.
"Why?"
"Because when I told him I wasn't feeling well, he said something strange."
"What?"
"He said, 'Some women become difficult when they realize they have no leverage.'"
Dominic went cold.
"Did he know?"
"I don't know."
Dominic stepped into the hallway.
His phone rang.
Marco.
"Boss."
"What?"
"We traced the anonymous message."
"Who sent it?"
Marco hesitated.
"One of your father's private security contractors."
Dominic stared at the apartment door.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
His hand tightened around the phone.
"Then my father knows."
"Knows what?"
Dominic looked through the closed door toward the room where Claire and his unborn child were waiting.
"Everything."
He ended the call.
May you like
For the first time, Dominic was no longer trying to bring his wife home.
He was trying to understand why someone had worked so hard to make sure she left.
