Z

Vincent showed me the messages the next morning.

He didn't come inside.

He stood on my mother's front porch holding the folder like it weighed fifty pounds.

“I thought you should see these before your lawyer does.”

“I'd rather Rebecca be here.”

“I understand.”

That answer still annoyed me.

“I can leave them.”

I looked at him.

He appeared as though he hadn't slept.

“When did you find out?”

“Last night.”

“And you waited until morning?”

“I wanted to come immediately.”

“Why didn't you?”

“Because Sophia sleeps at night.”

I stared.

Six weeks earlier, Vincent Moretti would have awakened the governor if he thought it necessary.

Now he had waited because his newborn had a sleep schedule.

“Come in.”

Mom took Sophia upstairs.

I sat across from Vincent at the dining table.

He pushed the folder toward me.

“Read the marked pages first.”

I did.

The first message made my stomach turn.

The second made my hands cold.

By the third, I understood.

Victoria and Daniel had planned her return for months.

Daniel believed Vincent had evidence capable of connecting him to financial crimes committed while working for Moretti Hospitality.

He needed access to internal systems.

Victoria was supposed to reconnect with Vincent and distract him long enough for Daniel to obtain that access.

But somewhere along the way, Victoria's motives became personal.

She hated me.

Not because we'd ever met.

Because I had the life she believed belonged to her.

My pregnancy intensified it.

One text from Victoria read:

Once the baby comes, he'll never leave her.

Daniel replied:

I don't care who he sleeps with. Keep him distracted.

Another message.

If I call during the delivery, he'll come.

How can you be sure?

Because Vincent has always needed to rescue me.

I stopped reading.

Across the table, Vincent's face looked carved from stone.

“She knew.”

“Yes.”

“She knew I was in labor.”

“Yes.”

“And you went anyway.”

His eyes closed.

“Yes.”

I pushed the folder away.

“I don't know whether this makes it better or worse.”

“Worse.”

I looked at him.

He didn't defend himself.

“She manipulated you.”

“And I let her.”

“You thought she was in danger.”

“I thought a lot of things.”

He leaned forward, forearms on his knees.

“But when your mother called and said you were in surgery, I knew you were in danger too.”

That silenced me.

Vincent's voice dropped.

“I could tell you Victoria was hysterical. That she told me her ex had found her. That she was threatening to hurt herself if I left.”

I stared.

“She threatened suicide?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because it doesn't matter.”

“It matters.”

“Not enough.”

His eyes met mine.

“You were my wife. You were bleeding. Our daughter was being born. I should have called emergency services for Victoria and gone to you.”

Tears burned behind my eyes.

“Yes.”

“I know.”

“Stop saying that.”

“Then tell me what to say.”

I stood.

“I don't know!”

The shout startled both of us.

I pressed a hand against my mouth.

Then everything I had been holding in came out.

“You keep showing up now and doing everything correctly, and I hate you for it.”

Vincent didn't move.

“I hate that you're learning her schedule. I hate that you know how to burp her. I hate that you bring diapers and ask permission and listen to lawyers.”

My voice cracked.

“Because where was this man when I needed him?”

His eyes reddened.

“I don't know.”

“I was terrified.”

“I know.”

“I thought I was going to die.”

He stood but didn't approach.

“My mother was holding my hand because my husband was in another woman's apartment.”

A tear slipped down my face.

“I kept looking at the door.”

Vincent went completely still.

“Even after they said you weren't coming, I kept looking at the door because I thought you'd walk through it.”

His breathing changed.

“I thought, He's Vincent. He'll realize. He'll come.”

I wiped my face angrily.

“But you didn't.”

“No.”

“And now you're here every Tuesday at 5:52 like punctuality can erase it.”

“It can't.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

His answer came quietly.

“Because Sophia deserves a father even if you never want me as a husband again.”

That hurt more than an excuse would have.

I sat down.

Vincent remained standing.

After a while, he said, “There is one more thing.”

I laughed bitterly.

“Of course there is.”

“Victoria came to Vegas before June.”

“How much earlier?”

“Almost a year.”

I looked at him sharply.

“She never contacted you?”

“No.”

“You're sure?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because Daniel paid her to stay out of sight while she gathered information through other people.”

I rubbed my forehead.

“Who sent me the photograph?”

“We think someone on Daniel's team turned against him.”

“Convenient.”

“We're trying to identify them.”

I looked toward the staircase.

“Is Sophia in danger?”

Vincent answered immediately.

“No one gets near her.”

“That wasn't my question.”

His jaw flexed.

“Yes.”

There it was.

Truth.

Ugly and useful.

I appreciated it.

“What do we do?”

“We increase security.”

“Without turning my mother's home into an armed fortress.”

“Agreed.”

“No Moretti men inside.”

His eyebrows lifted.

“They stay outside.”

“Fine.”

“And I choose the security company.”

“Fine.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Why are you being so agreeable?”

“Because every time I made decisions for you, I made things worse.”

I looked at him for a long moment.

“Rebecca will coordinate.”

“Okay.”

He moved toward the door.

“Vincent.”

He turned.

“Did you love her?”

The question had been rotting inside me for weeks.

He knew exactly who I meant.

“Victoria?”

“Yes.”

“Once.”

“No. When she came back.”

He didn't answer quickly.

I respected him for taking the question seriously.

“I loved the memory of who I thought she was.”

“That isn't an answer.”

“It is the only honest one.”

I waited.

“I didn't want a life with her,” he continued. “I didn't want to leave you. I didn't fantasize about rebuilding our relationship.”

“Then why choose her?”

His face changed.

“Because she made me feel necessary.”

I stared.

“And I didn't?”

“You made me feel loved.”

He looked down.

“I was arrogant enough to think those were the same thing.”

That answer stayed with me long after he left.

That evening, Rebecca called.

“Federal investigators want to interview you.”

My stomach tightened.

“Am I a suspect?”

“No.”

“That's not reassuring.”

“They believe your identity was used without authorization.”

“Because Vincent turned over the records?”

“Partly.”

I looked out the window.

He had exposed everything.

Possibly even information that could hurt his own family.

“Rebecca?”

“Yes?”

“Could Vincent have hidden those records?”

She paused.

“Probably.”

“And instead?”

“He gave us access.”

“Why?”

“You already know why.”

I did.

Because he finally understood that protecting me meant allowing me to see the truth.

Three days later, federal agents arrested Daniel Cross while he attempted to cross back into the United States using a false identity.

His laptop contained financial records.

Messages.

Surveillance photographs.

And one video.

The video showed Victoria sitting across from Daniel in a private restaurant eleven months earlier.

He asked her a question.

“How far are you willing to go?”

Victoria smiled.

“As far as I have to.”

Daniel leaned closer.

“Even if it destroys Vincent's marriage?”

Her answer came without hesitation.

“Especially then.”