“I spent the last year convinced that everyone around me was a possible traitor,” he said. “I stopped sleeping. I stopped coming home. Chloe was inside the investigation, so she was with me constantly.”
“And somehow your mouth fell onto hers?”
“No.”
He accepted the blow.
“I was tired. Angry. She kissed me. And for a few seconds, I let myself be someone I hate.”
I swallowed.
“Why didn’t you fire her?”
“Because three days later, someone tried to kill her.”
“What?”
“A car followed her from my office. Two men attacked her.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because the attack proved Marco’s old enemy had found her.”
Ryan leaned forward.
“And whoever found Chloe would eventually look at everyone I love.”
“Meaning me.”
“Yes.”
He looked at the threatening message.
“That photograph confirms it.”
I shook my head.
“You don’t get to use danger to excuse betrayal.”
“I’m not.”
“Good.”
“I came to ask you to leave Chicago.”
I stared at him.
“Excuse me?”
“Stay with Vincent until I find who sent this.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
His eyes hardened.
“This isn’t about our marriage.”
“Everything becomes about control with you.”
“Someone threatened your life.”
“And your solution is to decide where I live.”
“My solution is to keep you breathing.”
“My solution is to know the truth.”
He stood.
“You don’t understand these people.”
I stood too.
“Then explain them.”
“I can’t.”
“Won’t.”
“Can’t.”
“Why?”
Ryan hesitated.
And I knew.
Another secret.
“Get out.”
“Claire.”
“Get out.”
“Please.”
I pointed toward the door.
“If you want any chance of saving whatever is left between us,
stop deciding what I’m allowed to know.”
Ryan stared at me.
Then nodded.
“Okay.”
He walked toward the door.
Before opening it, he stopped.
“There’s one thing I can tell you.”
I waited.
“The Denver trip was to meet a man who claims he knows who betrayed Marco Vescari.”
“Who?”
“Daniel Cross.”
My blood chilled.
I knew that name.
Not from Ryan.
From my father.
Daniel Cross had worked for Hale Maritime fifteen years earlier.
He had disappeared after being accused of stealing millions.
“Why would a former Hale executive know anything about a Moretti betrayal?”
Ryan looked toward the closed study door.
“That’s what I was going to Denver to find out.”
The implication settled slowly.
This did not begin with Ryan’s family.
It might have begun with mine.
The next morning Chloe came to see me.
I almost refused.
Then curiosity won.
She looked nothing like the woman from first class.
No expensive bracelet.
No perfect makeup.
Her blonde hair was tied back.
A bruise showed near her collarbone.
“Mrs. Moretti.”
“Claire.”
She nodded.
“Claire.”
I crossed my arms.
“If you’re here to tell me the kiss meant nothing, save your breath.”
“It meant something.”
I hated her instantly for saying it.
Chloe continued.
“It meant I was selfish.”
I stared.
“I loved Ryan.”
Past tense.
“Loved?”
“Yes.”
“Does he love you?”
“No.”
She answered without hesitation.
“That almost makes it more humiliating.”
“For whom?”
“Me.”
She looked down.
“I spent years mistaking protection for love.”
I remained silent.
“He saved my life when I was sixteen. He gave me another identity.
Education. Work. Safety.”
“So you fell in love with him.”
“Yes.”
“And kissed him.”
“Yes.”
“And he kissed you back.”
Her face tightened.
“Yes.”
I looked away.
“But he stopped.”
“I know.”
“He told you?”
“Yes.”
“Then he also told you he refused to see me alone after that.”
I turned back.
“No.”
“He didn’t?”
“No.”
Chloe looked almost angry.
“Of course he didn’t.”
“What?”
“He’s trying so hard not to excuse what he did that he’s leaving out everything.”
“Why were you touching him on the plane?”
Chloe’s eyes dropped.
“We knew someone was following us.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Ryan wanted whoever was watching to believe I mattered to him.”
“You did.”
“Not the way they needed to believe.”
I suddenly felt sick.
“The flight attendant.”
Chloe nodded.
“Ryan saw the man watching us.”
“So he let her call you his wife.”
“Yes.”
“Without knowing I was sitting behind him.”
“No.”
I laughed, but there was no humor in it.
“Convenient.”
“It’s the truth.”
“The hand-holding?”
“Part of the same performance.”
“Your head in his lap?”
“Yes.”
“And the bracelet?”
Chloe removed it from her purse.
“Open it.”
I stared.
“Open it.”
I pressed the clasp.
Inside was a tiny electronic component.
“A tracker,” Chloe said.
“Ryan wanted them to steal it from me after we landed.”
I stared at the bracelet.
“So the entire plane performance was staged?”
“Most of it.”
Most.
There was that word.
“The kiss wasn’t.”
“No.”
“Months of lies weren’t.”
“No.”
“Making me feel crazy wasn’t.”
Chloe’s eyes filled.
“No.”
I handed back the bracelet.
“Then you understand why this doesn’t fix anything.”
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