Chapter 2 - THE THING SERENA WAS HIDING
“What kind of access?”
Claire remembered asking the question six weeks before the shooting.
Roman had stood across from her in their kitchen, one palm flat against the marble island.
“Enough to make Kane trust her.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only one I can give you.”
Claire folded her arms over her belly.
Roman looked exhausted.
Not guilty.
That distinction had kept her from walking away then.
“Does Serena work for you?”
“No.”
“Does she work for Kane?”
His hesitation was tiny.
Claire noticed it anyway.
“She used to.”
The answer unsettled her more than she expected.
“What does that mean?”
Roman walked to the window overlooking Biscayne Bay.
“Kane trusts almost nobody. Serena is one of the few people he has history with.”
“What kind of history?”
Roman turned.
“The kind that makes this dangerous.”
Claire waited.
Nothing else came.
That became the pattern.
Every answer opened another locked door.
Over the next several weeks, Serena appeared everywhere Roman needed her to be seen.
At restaurants.
In hotel lobbies.
Once outside a jewelry store.
That photograph hurt the most.
Serena wore Roman’s charcoal coat against the rain.
Claire recognized it because she had bought it for his thirty-sixth birthday.
Roman came home that night and found her sitting beside the untouched dinner.
“You gave her your coat.”
“It was raining.”
“That’s almost funny.”
“Claire.”
“I don’t care about the coat.”
They both knew she did.
Roman crouched beside her chair.
“I need Kane to believe Serena matters to me.”
“And what exactly am I supposed to believe?”
His eyes lifted to hers.
“That you matter more than anything.”
Claire swallowed.
“Then start acting like it.”
Roman took her hand and pressed it against his chest.
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“You’re destroying us while you do it.”
Something changed in his expression.
Fear.
Real fear.
But he still said nothing.
Three nights later, Claire saw Serena herself.
It happened at the Rinaldi Foundation dinner at the Delmar Hotel.
Claire had planned to stay home.
Then pride won.
If Miami wanted to watch Roman Rinaldi’s pregnant wife be humiliated, Claire would at least make them look her in the eye while they did it.
She wore dark blue silk and Roman’s mother’s diamond necklace.
When she entered the ballroom, conversations shifted.
Roman crossed the room immediately.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Claire smiled pleasantly for the watching guests.
“Good evening to you too.”
His hand settled at her waist.
“You’re tired.”
“I’m pregnant, Roman. Not dying.”
His face tightened strangely.
Before Claire could ask why, she saw Serena near the bar.
Black dress.
Dark hair.
Roman’s charcoal coat folded over one arm.
Serena noticed Claire looking.
Then she did something Claire had not expected.
She walked over.
“Mrs. Rinaldi.”
Claire looked at Roman.
Roman looked furious.
“Serena.”
Just one word.
A warning.
Serena ignored him.
“I wanted to tell you—”
“Not here,” Roman said.
Serena’s jaw flexed.
Claire glanced between them.
“What exactly can’t be said in front of me?”
Neither answered.
That silence burned.
Claire turned away.
Serena caught her wrist.
Roman moved instantly.
“Take your hand off my wife.”
Serena released Claire.
But as she did, something slipped from inside the charcoal coat.
A photograph.
It landed faceup on the floor.
Claire saw a younger Serena standing beside a boy of maybe sixteen.
The boy had Roman’s eyes.
Not similar eyes.
Roman’s eyes.
Claire bent before either of them could stop her.
Roman went pale.
“Who is this?”
Serena stared at the photograph.
“My brother.”
Claire studied the boy.
Dark hair.
Straight nose.
A familiar crooked smile.
“How old is this picture?”
“Fourteen years.”
Claire looked at Roman.
He said nothing.
Her stomach tightened.
“You know him.”
Roman’s silence answered.
Serena whispered, “He knew him.”
Past tense.
Claire’s skin went cold.
“What happened?”
Serena closed her eyes.
“Kane happened.”
That was the first time Claire understood Serena was not smiling because she enjoyed humiliating her.
She was surviving something.
Later that evening, Roman finally told Claire part of the truth.
Serena’s younger brother, Luca Cross, had worked at one of Kane’s clubs as a teenager.
He witnessed something he should not have.
Kane believed Luca stole information from him.
Luca disappeared.
His body was never found.
“Then why does Kane trust Serena?” Claire asked.
“Because she spent years convincing him she blamed me.”
“Do you deserve blame?”
Roman stared toward the dark windows.
“Yes.”
Claire froze.
“How?”
“I promised Luca I’d get him out.”
“And?”
“I was too late.”
For the first time, Claire heard shame instead of strategy in Roman’s voice.
“Kane knows Serena hates you?”
“He thinks she does.”
“And you’re pretending she changed sides because she became your mistress.”
“Yes.”
Claire’s anger shifted.
It did not disappear.
“You could have told me this.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Serena is carrying something Kane would kill you to find.”
Claire instinctively touched her stomach.
“What?”
Roman shook his head.
“I can’t tell you.”
Claire laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
The night of the attack came three weeks later.
It began at 11:18 p.m.
Roman had just returned home.
Serena arrived seven minutes after him.
Claire came downstairs and found both of them in the library.
Serena looked terrified.
Not seductive.
Terrified.
“Kane knows,” she said.
Roman shut the doors.
“How much?”
“Enough.”
Claire stepped forward.
“Enough about what?”
Roman’s eyes snapped toward her.
“You need to go upstairs.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“I’m finished being sent away every time my own life is discussed.”
Then the first shot shattered the front window.
Everything after happened too fast.
Security alarms screamed.
Men shouted.
The lights went out.
Roman pushed Claire behind the marble staircase.
“Stay down.”
Another volley struck the foyer.
Smoke poured through the hall.
Claire tried moving toward the kitchen.
Glass cut her foot.
Then something slammed into her side.
Pain exploded.
She fell against the railing.
Across the foyer, Serena collapsed beneath part of the shattered doorway.
Roman reached her first.
Claire saw him look at Serena.
Then at Claire.
“Roman!”
His face broke.
“Get Serena out!”
He lifted Serena and disappeared.
Claire would remember that image forever.
What she did not remember was falling.
She woke briefly inside one of Roman’s armored SUVs.
His consigliere, Marco Bellini, was pressing towels against her side.
“Where’s Roman?”
Marco did not answer.
“My baby.”
“The doctor is waiting.”
“Where is my husband?”
Marco looked toward the vehicle behind them.
Claire followed his gaze.
Roman was sitting beside Serena.
Holding her upright.
Claire turned her face away.
By dawn, doctors had stopped the bleeding.
The bullet had only grazed Claire’s side.
Labor had begun early, but medication slowed it.
Her son was still inside her.
Still safe.
Roman entered the private clinic at 5:43 a.m.
Claire was already dressed.
“Where are you going?”
“Away from you.”
“Claire—”
“You chose her.”
Roman stopped.
“No.”
“I watched you.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly.”
Roman stepped closer.
“Serena had what Kane came for.”
Claire laughed through tears.
“Then I hope it was worth it.”
“It was keeping our son alive.”
Claire went still.
Roman reached inside his jacket.
He pulled out the photograph of Serena and Luca.
Then he turned it over.
On the back was an old Polaroid taped beneath it.
Claire saw Roman.
Younger.
Maybe twenty-two.
Beside him stood Luca.
And beside Luca—
Claire’s father.
Claire stared.
Her father had died when she was nineteen.
“What is this?”
Roman looked at her with a grief she had never seen before.
“Your father didn’t die in a boating accident.”
The room seemed to tilt.
May you like
Roman placed the photograph into Claire’s hand.
“Victor Kane killed him.”
