Chapter 2 - SHE DIDN’T POST IT FOR JEALOUSY
“Then why did she post like one?”
Dominic looked at the phone on the counter.
“Because she wanted you to react.”
I held my cup between both hands.
“Congratulations. I made tea.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
He walked toward the windows.
Outside, Chicago glittered beneath us, unaware that a photograph had turned our marriage into morning entertainment.
“Madison knew you’d see it,” he said.
“Eighteen thousand people saw it in eleven minutes. I’m not sure I was the exclusive audience.”
“She wanted the city to believe my marriage was unstable.”
That got my attention.
“Why?”
Dominic hesitated again.
I hated those hesitations more than lies.
“Russo Urban has a board vote Friday.”
“About?”
“The North River redevelopment.”
I knew the project.
Everybody did.
Three billion dollars.
Hotels, housing, offices, riverfront retail, a private marina, and enough construction contracts to feed half Chicago for a decade.
“What does Madison have to do with North River?”
“She works for Vale Strategic.”
I stared.
Madison had spent the past year presenting herself as a political fundraiser and arts-board socialite.
Vale Strategic was something else entirely.
A private investment firm famous for buying struggling companies, stripping control from their founders, and reselling the pieces.
“Since when?”
“Eight months.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“And somehow that information never came up over dinner.”
“Grace—”
“Continue.”
Dominic exhaled.
“Vale has been trying to force its way into the project. I refused.”
“So Madison got close to you.”
“Yes.”
“How close?”
His eyes met mine.
“Not the way that photograph suggests.”
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
“What question?”
“Did you sleep with her?”
“No.”
No hesitation.
I believed him.
That annoyed me.
Believing your husband at three in the morning while another woman’s hand was on his chest was emotionally inconvenient.
“Did you kiss her?”
“No.”
“Touch her?”
“Not voluntarily.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“That sounds dramatic.”
“She was drunk enough to be careless and sober enough to know exactly what she was doing.”
“Then why were you in a private elevator with her?”
“I was leaving a meeting.”
“With her.”
“With six people. She stepped into the elevator before the doors closed. Everyone else stayed upstairs.”
“Convenient.”
“I know.”
“And you did nothing when she took the picture?”
“I didn’t know she took it.”
I looked toward the private elevator behind him.
Then smiled.
Dominic saw it.
“What?”
“Madison made a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“She took that selfie in my hotel.”
“The Langford is technically owned by—”
“Bellamy Hospitality.”
He stopped.
My maiden name was Grace Bellamy.
Most people had forgotten that after five years of newspapers calling me Mrs. Dominic Russo.
Madison apparently had too.
My grandfather founded Bellamy Hotels.
My father expanded them.
When he died, the controlling trust passed to me.
The Langford was not Dominic’s.
It had never been Dominic’s.
It was mine.
And every private elevator inside it recorded continuously.
Dominic understood.
“You have the raw footage.”
“I have everything.”
I picked up my phone and called Nathan Brooks, The Langford’s director of security.
He answered on the second ring.
“Mrs. Russo?”
“Sorry to wake you.”
“I’m awake.”
Of course he was.
Every hotel executive in Chicago was probably awake now.
“I need the private elevator footage from tonight. Thirty minutes before and after Dominic entered.”
A pause.
“Already preserved.”
I smiled.
“Good man.”
“There’s something you should know.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“What?”
Nathan lowered his voice.
“The camera feed was accessed remotely at 3:01.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“By who?”
“We’re tracing credentials.”
“Did anyone alter the footage?”
“No. But somebody tried to delete seventeen minutes.”
Dominic’s expression changed.
“Send it now.”
Nathan did.
Three minutes later, Dominic and I stood beside the kitchen island watching the unedited elevator footage.
12:46 a.m.
Dominic entered alone.
At 12:47, Madison slipped between the closing doors.
She was laughing.
Dominic was not.
There was no audio, but his expression said enough.
She moved too close.
He stepped away.
She touched his tie.
He removed her hand.
Then she leaned toward him as though whispering.
Dominic’s face changed.
“What was she saying?” I asked.
He stayed silent.
“Dominic.”
“She told me she knew about the Bellamy trust.”
That surprised me.
“What exactly did she know?”
“Apparently not enough.”
On-screen, Madison moved close again.
Her left hand rose toward Dominic’s chest.
Her right hand remained near her purse.
Then came the selfie.
A fraction of a second later, something else happened.
Her fingers slipped inside Dominic’s jacket.
He didn’t notice.
I froze the image.
“Zoom.”
Dominic enlarged it.
Madison removed something thin and black from his inside pocket.
A card.
Dominic touched his jacket immediately.
His face darkened.
“What?”
“My secure access card.”
“To Russo headquarters?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know it was missing?”
“I thought I left it upstairs.”
Madison stepped out when the elevator opened on the lobby level.
The camera followed Dominic alone for another floor before he exited into the underground garage.
I replayed the theft.
“She didn’t want a selfie.”
“She wanted the card.”
“The selfie was camouflage.”
Dominic picked up his phone.
I stopped him.
“Who are you calling?”
“Security.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“She stole my access.”
“And posted a photograph that made the entire city look in the wrong direction.”
I opened The Langford’s lobby cameras.
Madison walked out at 12:49.
No waiting car.
No driver.
Instead, she entered a service hallway.
Nathan had included that footage too.
At 12:52, she used a staff exit.
A man stood outside.
Tall.
Dark coat.
His face turned toward the camera.
Dominic went completely still.
I recognized him.
Luca Russo.
Dominic’s cousin.
Chief operating officer of Russo Urban.
The man Dominic had once described as the closest thing he had to a brother.
Madison placed Dominic’s stolen card in Luca’s hand.
Then kissed his cheek.
Not affectionately.
Like a deal being completed.
“Still think this is about another woman?” Dominic asked quietly.
“No.”
My anger had changed shape.
At 4:02, Nathan called again.
“We traced the remote attempt to erase the elevator footage.”
“Whose credentials?”
He hesitated.
“Russo Urban.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“Specific user?”
“Yes.”
Nathan sent the information.
I opened it.
The username belonged to Dominic’s chief legal counsel.
Stephen Ward.
Three men now connected to the same night.
Luca.
Stephen.
And Madison.
Dominic cursed softly.
“They’re inside the company.”
“Obviously.”
He stared toward the windows.
“I’ve trusted Stephen for twelve years.”
“I’m beginning to think your hiring instincts need work.”
He almost smiled.
Then my phone buzzed.
A new gossip notification.
Madison had posted again.
This time there was no photograph.
Only text.
Some marriages are already over. The paperwork just hasn’t caught up yet.
Twenty seconds later, Dominic’s phone rang.
His CFO.
He answered.
“What?”
Silence.
Then:
“When?”
His face went cold.
“What happened?” I asked.
He lowered the phone.
“At 3:14 someone used my access credentials inside Russo headquarters.”
“The card.”
“Yes.”
“To access what?”
He stared at me.
“My private board archive.”
“What’s inside?”
“The North River voting agreements.”
That was bad.
But Dominic looked like there was more.
“What else?”
“Our marital trust documents.”
I slowly put down my tea.
“Why would Madison need those?”
Dominic looked at me.
Then said the sentence that changed everything.
“Because if the board believes our marriage is collapsing before Friday, Luca can trigger the succession clause.”
I stared.
“What succession clause?”
Dominic’s face changed.
A man realizing his wife was about to discover another secret.
“The one my father added before we married.”
And suddenly I understood that Madison had not posted a selfie because she wanted my husband.
May you like
She had posted it because somebody wanted his company.
---
