Chapter 19
“Marcus is more dangerous. At least Dominic’s honest about what he is.”
“You’re going to regret this.” Her father’s voice went low and ugly. “When the money runs out, and the lawyers leave, and you’re alone with nothing — you remember this conversation. Remember that I warned you.”
“I’ll remember that you chose him over me. Again.”
Elena’s hands were shaking.
“Goodbye, Dad.”
She nodded to Rebecca, who ended the call. The silence in the office was deafening.
“I’m sorry,” Rebecca said quietly.
“Don’t be. I knew how that would go.” Elena wiped her eyes. “He’s been taking Marcus’s money for years. Why would he stop now?”
“Because you’re his daughter. Because you deserve his support.” Rebecca’s voice was fierce. “But you don’t need him. You have us.”
“Us.” The word felt foreign in her mouth. Elena had been alone so long she’d forgotten what support looked like.
“What happens now?”
“Now you go to the safe house. You rest. You eat something.” Rebecca stood. “Tomorrow at nine we hold the press conference. Then we file. Then we prepare for war.”
The safe house turned out to be a penthouse in the West Loop — sleek, modern, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. A security guard stood outside the door: large, silent, professional.
“Miss Martinez.” He nodded. “I’m Joseph. I’ll be here all night. You need anything, call down.”
Inside, Elena wandered through the rooms touching things. A cashmere throw. Fresh flowers. Real books on the shelves, not decorator pieces. The fridge was stocked with actual food — not the organic, tasteless health food Marcus had insisted on. On the counter she found a note in Dominic’s handwriting.
Make yourself at home. Rebecca will pick you up at 8:00 a.m. Don’t open the door for anyone but her. — D.
She opened a bottle of wine, poured a glass, and stood at the window.
Somewhere out there, Marcus was planning his next move. Calling in favors. Strategizing with his lawyers. Spinning the story. And for the first time in twelve years, Elena wasn’t afraid of what he might do.
She was angry. The anger felt clean and sharp and real, like biting into something after years of only ever drinking water.
Her new phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.
It’s Dominic. Just checking in. You settling okay?
She stared at it. Rebecca must have given him the number.
She typed: Yes. Thank you for this place. It’s beautiful.