Chapter 2 - The Bruise That Shouldn't Exist
I did not sleep.
At 3:11 in the morning, I was still in front of the monitors.
I had watched Regina paint the bruise onto her own arm fourteen times.
Not because I needed more proof.
Because I needed my mind to accept what my eyes already knew.
The fifteenth time, I stopped the video before she touched the compact.
I leaned back.
The dark room reflected me in the black edges of the monitors.
I looked tired.
Older.
Not powerful.
Just stupid.
My phone buzzed.
Vince, my security chief.
“You still upstairs?”
“Yes.”
“You want coffee?”
“No.”
“You want me to come in?”
“No.”
There was a pause.
“Something wrong?”
Everything.
“Go home,” I said.
I ended the call.
If Regina knew I was suspicious, she might change whatever plan she had begun.
If Julieta knew I had seen the recordings, she might finally talk.
Or she might run.
I did not know which possibility frightened me more.
So I kept watching.
At 8:42 the previous morning, Julieta had knelt on the marble floor exactly where I ordered her.
The bright yellow gloves made her hands look ridiculous against the polished white stone.
I had intended that.
I understood it now.
I had wanted her to feel watched.
Marked.
Small.
On the video, she scrubbed the same clean square for seventeen minutes.
Then everyone left the room.
Julieta stopped.
She sat back on her heels.
For a while, she just stared at the floor.
Then her shoulders shook once.
She lifted one gloved hand to her face.
The rubber smeared a tear across her cheek.
She made no sound.
No dramatic sobbing.
No angry phone call.
No attempt to curse me.
She simply cried quietly in an empty room.
My stomach turned.
Footsteps sounded from the hallway.
Julieta heard them.
Instantly, she wiped her face.
Gianna entered unsteadily, toddling toward her.
Julieta smiled before the child reached her.
A real smile.
She removed one glove, opened her arms, and picked Gianna up.
“Hey, mi cielo.”
Gianna rested her head against Julieta's shoulder.
Julieta kissed her hair.
I closed my eyes.
There are mistakes a man can apologize for.
Then there are mistakes that reveal the kind of person he has allowed himself to become.
The second kind are harder.
At 5:30 a.m., I searched older recordings.
The cameras had only been active for two days, but my exterior security system had retained footage from the driveway and service entrance for months.
Regina's movements.
Julieta's movements.
Visitors.
Vehicles.
I began with the day Regina claimed Julieta shoved her.
The kitchen camera did not yet exist, but the hallway angle covered the entrance.
10:04 a.m.
Julieta entered the kitchen.
10:07.
She exited carrying Noah.
10:09.
Regina entered.
10:18.
Regina exited alone.
No Julieta.
No confrontation.
No sign of injury.
At 10:21, Regina crossed the main hall in a sleeveless blouse.
Her arm was completely clean.
No bruise.
At 10:45, she entered her bedroom.
At 11:12, she came to me wearing long sleeves.
At 11:15, she showed me the bruise.
I sat very still.
The bruise that supposedly came from Julieta had not existed thirty minutes after the alleged attack.
That should have been enough.
It wasn't.
Because I still needed to know why.
At 6:13, I found Julieta's mysterious phone call.
It had happened the previous evening in the pantry.
The audio was clearer than the first clip.
“I told you not to contact me here,” Julieta whispered.
A male voice answered, too faint to identify.
She looked toward the door.
“No. Emilio doesn't know.”
Pause.
“If he finds out before I have proof, Regina will move first.”
The voice sharpened.
Julieta shook her head.
“No. I won't leave Noah and Gianna.”
Another pause.
Her expression hardened.
“I promised Catherine.”
My chest tightened.
Then Julieta said something that made no sense.
“Kowalski isn't the danger. He's the one who warned me.”
I replayed it.
Kowalski isn't the danger.
He's the one who warned me.
For years, Marek Kowalski and I had been adversaries.
Not friends.
Not allies.
If we entered the same restaurant, half the room left.
The idea that he had warned Julieta about anything seemed absurd.
Unless the threat was large enough to make enemies useful.
I called Vince.
This time he answered on the first ring.
“I thought you told me to go home.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Obviously.”
“I need everything we have on Regina Ashford.”
Silence.
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
“Since when?”
“Since birth.”
Vince exhaled.
“You want her to know?”
“No.”
“Julieta?”
“No.”
“What's going on?”
I looked at the monitor.
“Just find it.”
At 7:30, I went downstairs.
The house was waking.
Staff moved through the kitchen.
Coffee brewed.
Noah cried from the nursery.
I reached the doorway before Julieta did.
She stopped when she saw me.
For one second, fear crossed her face.
Fear of me.
I had earned that.
Noah lifted his arms from the crib.
“Dada!”
I picked him up.
He pressed his cheek against my shoulder.
Julieta stood quietly near Gianna's crib.
Neither of us spoke.
Finally, I said, “You can take the gloves off.”
Her eyes dropped toward her hands.
She was wearing them.
Still.
Because I had ordered her to.
She slowly removed them.
“Thank you, Mr. Verona.”
The formality stung.
“Julieta.”
“Yes?”
I almost told her everything.
That I knew about the bruise.
That I knew Regina lied.
That I knew Catherine had somehow connected them.
Instead, I asked, “Did my wife know you?”
Julieta froze.
Gianna reached for her.
Julieta lifted the child.
“Why are you asking?”
“Answer me.”
Her expression closed.
“No.”
“That's not true.”
She looked at Noah in my arms.
Then at me.
“Some truths are dangerous when the wrong person hears them.”
“I'm not the wrong person.”
Her eyes filled with something close to anger.
“You were yesterday.”
That landed harder than any insult.
I lowered my voice.
“Who is Marek Kowalski to you?”
Julieta went pale.
“Please.”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't know who's listening.”
I almost laughed from disbelief.
“In my own house?”
She met my eyes.
“Yes.”
At that exact moment, Regina appeared in the hallway.
She wore ivory silk and a warm smile.
“Good morning.”
Julieta immediately looked away.
Regina stepped toward me and kissed my cheek.
“Did you sleep at all?”
“A little.”
She touched Noah's back.
He turned his face away from her.
Regina smiled as if she had not noticed.
Then she looked at Julieta.
“You're still here.”
Julieta's jaw tightened.
I watched both women.
Yesterday, I would have interpreted Julieta's tension as guilt.
Today, I saw something else.
She was afraid of Regina.
Not jealous.
Not resentful.
Afraid.
Regina turned to me.
“Emilio, can we talk?”
“Later.”
“It matters.”
“So do the children.”
Her smile faltered for half a second.
Then returned.
“Of course.”
She walked away.
Julieta whispered, “Don't let her know.”
I stared at her.
“Know what?”
“That you're doubting her.”
Then she left with Gianna.
By noon, Vince sent the first report.
Regina Ashford was not quite Regina Ashford.
Her education checked out.
Her charity work checked out.
Her family name existed.
But three years earlier, she had changed legal representation.
Two years earlier, she had opened a private investment company.
Eighteen months earlier, six weeks before Catherine died, that company had purchased debt connected to an old Verona-controlled property.
My blood cooled.
“Why would she do that?” I asked.
Vince sat across from me.
“Could be investment.”
“Could be.”
“You don't believe it.”
“No.”
He slid another page forward.
“There's more.”
Regina had visited a private law firm four months before we met.
The same firm had handled amendments to Catherine's estate.
I stared at the address.
“You're sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Who did she meet?”
“Working on it.”
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I answered.
No one spoke.
Then a man's voice said, “You finally started watching the right woman.”
I stood.
“Who is this?”
A low laugh.
“You know.”
Marek Kowalski.
My hand tightened around the phone.
“If you are anywhere near my children—”
“Still predictable.”
“Say what you want.”
“I already told your nanny.”
“Why?”
“Because Catherine asked me to.”
The room disappeared around me.
“What did you say?”
“Your wife knew she was running out of time.”
My pulse slowed.
Dangerously.
“Catherine died from complications after surgery.”
“That's what you were told.”
I said nothing.
Kowalski continued.
“Ask Julieta about the red envelope.”
“What red envelope?”
“She'll know.”
The line went dead.
I went to find Julieta.
She was in the laundry room folding tiny shirts.
When she saw my face, she stopped.
“Who called you?”
I closed the door.
“Kowalski.”
Her eyes shut.
“What red envelope?”
She did not answer.
I stepped closer.
“Julieta.”
She opened her eyes.
“They said if I gave it to you too soon, the children would be in danger.”
“Who said?”
“Catherine.”
My throat tightened.
Julieta reached behind the stack of towels.
She pulled out a small brass key.
“Your wife left something for you.”
“Where?”
“Not here.”
“What is it?”
Julieta's voice cracked.
“The last thing she ever trusted me to protect.”
Then a scream came from upstairs.
Gianna.
Both of us ran.
May you like
And when we reached the nursery, Regina was standing beside the crib.
Holding the red envelope in her hand.
