Chapter 4 - The Woman Behind the Camera
The next morning, I became the man Regina expected me to be.
Suspicious.
Cold.
Angry.
At breakfast, I barely looked at Julieta.
When Gianna reached for her, I said, “Let her eat alone.”
Julieta looked at me sharply.
Then understood.
Regina watched.
I made my voice harder.
“I said leave her.”
Julieta lowered her eyes.
“Yes, Mr. Verona.”
Regina relaxed.
That was the first sign our plan was working.
The second came twenty minutes later.
Regina touched my shoulder.
“You're finally seeing it.”
“Seeing what?”
“Julieta.”
I looked toward the kitchen.
“She lied to me.”
Regina smiled faintly.
“I tried to tell you.”
I hated myself for how easily the words came.
“You did.”
That afternoon, I called Vince and ordered him to create a fake report.
Nothing dramatic.
Enough to make it appear that Julieta had contacted someone connected to Kowalski.
I left the report on my desk.
Then I deliberately told Regina I was going downtown.
I did not.
I watched from the security room hidden behind the library.
At 2:14, Regina entered my office.
She found the report in less than three minutes.
She photographed every page.
At 2:20, she called someone.
“It's working.”
Mercer.
I recognized his voice.
Regina smiled.
“He believes she's connected to Kowalski.”
Mercer asked, “Has he fired her?”
“Not yet.”
“Push harder.”
Regina sighed.
“Emilio isn't stupid.”
“No.”
Mercer's voice turned dry.
“He's grieving.”
The distinction made her laugh.
I closed my eyes.
They had studied me.
Not just my finances.
My pain.
At 3:05, Julieta entered the hidden room.
She stood behind me quietly.
“You enjoy this?”
“No.”
“It looks like you do.”
I turned.
“What does that mean?”
“You know how to pretend to hate someone very well.”
The words cut.
“I told you why.”
“You told me we're trying to catch Regina.”
“Yes.”
“You didn't tell me I would have to hear you speak to me like that again.”
I stood.
“Julieta—”
“No.”
Her voice remained soft, but the anger underneath it was sharp.
“You don't get to say my name like an apology.”
I went still.
She stepped closer.
“I scrubbed that floor because I was afraid if I refused, you would send me away.”
“I know.”
“No. You watched it on a camera.”
Her eyes filled.
“You don't know what it felt like.”
I said nothing.
“You looked at me like I was dirty.”
My throat tightened.
“You told me not to leave fingerprints in the house where I changed your children's diapers, held them when they had fevers, slept on the floor beside their cribs when Gianna couldn't breathe because she was sick.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
She wiped at one eye angrily.
“You don't know.”
I lowered my head.
“You're right.”
That silenced her.
I continued.
“I was afraid.”
She laughed once without humor.
“Powerful men love that sentence.”
I deserved that too.
“I thought you were a threat to my children.”
“And that made humiliation acceptable?”
“No.”
The answer came easily because I finally understood it.
“No. It didn't.”
Julieta looked at me.
I did not defend myself.
Did not explain.
Did not remind her that Regina lied.
My choices were mine.
“I cannot undo what I did.”
“No.”
“But I can stop asking you to pretend it didn't matter.”
Her expression softened slightly.
Not forgiveness.
Just recognition.
Then the monitor chimed.
Motion detection.
Regina was in Catherine's old dressing room.
We both turned.
“What is she doing?” Julieta whispered.
The room had been mostly untouched since Catherine's death.
Regina rarely entered it.
Now she opened drawers systematically.
Searching.
“She knows about the box,” I said.
Regina moved to the wardrobe.
Then the vanity.
Finally, she pulled out Catherine's old jewelry case.
My breath caught.
I had not opened that case in more than a year.
Regina removed the velvet lining.
Underneath was a folded paper.
Julieta stared.
“Did you know that was there?”
“No.”
Regina unfolded it.
Her face changed.
She photographed the page.
Then burned it over a candle.
“Vince,” I said into the intercom.
“Already grabbing the frame.”
The camera had caught most of the page.
He enhanced the image.
A list of dates appeared.
Catherine's handwriting.
Legal meeting.
Trust inquiry.
Mercer.
Woman at restaurant.
Followed twice.
Then one line:
If anything happens to me before the surgery, check Regina Vale.
Vale.
Not Ashford.
I stared.
Vince searched the name.
Regina Vale.
Thirty-one.
Same photograph.
Same face.
Different identity.
Her father had been a financial consultant investigated ten years earlier for stealing from private family trusts.
He died before indictment.
His daughter had disappeared from public records shortly afterward.
Regina Ashford had appeared two years later.
Julieta whispered, “This started before Catherine died.”
“Yes.”
But another document made it worse.
Regina Vale's father had once worked for a Verona-associated investment fund.
He had been fired after Catherine discovered irregularities.
My wife had been the person who exposed him.
Regina had not simply targeted my children for money.
She had targeted my family.
Revenge and wealth.
A dangerous combination.
That evening, Regina tested me.
She waited until dinner was nearly over.
Then she said, “I think Julieta should leave.”
Noah was in a high chair beside me.
Gianna sat with Julieta.
I took a drink.
“Why?”
“Because I don't feel safe with her here.”
Julieta remained expressionless.
Regina continued.
“And neither should the children.”
I looked at Julieta.
“Pack your things.”
Her eyes widened.
Even though we had planned for something like this, hearing it still hurt.
Regina smiled.
Julieta stood.
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Emilio,” Regina said gently, “maybe tonight is better.”
I looked at her.
“No.”
Her smile faded.
“Why?”
“Because I'm not sending a woman into the street at night.”
Regina leaned back.
“Still defending her?”
“No.”
I let coldness enter my voice.
“Just controlling the situation.”
That satisfied her.
Later, Julieta packed one suitcase as part of the performance.
At midnight, Vince moved Noah and Gianna's legal documents to a secure location.
At 1:00, I copied the surveillance recordings.
At 2:00, our attorney began preparing evidence.
At 3:17, Regina slipped out of bed.
I followed her on camera.
She went downstairs.
Opened the side door.
Mercer entered.
They spoke in the dark kitchen.
“Tomorrow?” Mercer asked.
Regina nodded.
“Once Julieta is out, we begin.”
“What about Emilio?”
“He'll be easier after she's gone.”
Mercer looked uneasy.
“You're underestimating him.”
Regina smiled.
“No. I've spent two years studying him.”
Two years.
Before our first date.
Before the charity gala where she had “accidentally” spilled champagne on my sleeve.
Before the first dinner.
Before the first kiss.
Everything had been planned.
Mercer removed a folder.
“Here.”
Regina opened it.
A petition.
Temporary guardianship.
My name appeared repeatedly.
Mentally unstable.
Volatile.
Grief-related paranoia.
Dangerous environment.
Risk to minor children.
Evidence to follow.
The staged bruise.
The nanny accusation.
My own threats.
My own behavior.
They had not invented every piece.
That was the genius of it.
Regina had simply placed me in situations where my worst instincts would create the evidence for her.
Then Mercer said, “There is one problem.”
“What?”
“The trust requires an independent family witness.”
Regina frowned.
“Who?”
Mercer hesitated.
“Someone Catherine named before she died.”
“Who?”
He looked directly toward the darkened hallway.
“Marek Kowalski.”
May you like
Regina's face lost all color.
And upstairs, watching through the hidden camera, I finally understood why my dead wife had chosen one of my enemies to protect my children.
