Chapter 2 - David Bellamy Had Two Lives
Her name was Rebecca Bellamy.
Not Rebecca Shaw.
Not Rebecca Collins.
Bellamy.
She showed me the marriage certificate on her phone.
David Bellamy had married her four years earlier in Connecticut.
He had proposed to me two years later.
I sat at Alessio’s dining table wrapped in one of his oversized black shirts while a private doctor examined the bruising along my ribs in the guest room and told me I needed a hospital ultrasound.
Rebecca sat across from me.
She was thirty-one, dark-haired, exhausted, and furious.
Alessio remained at the far end of the room with his attorney, Leah Stone, and his security chief, Tomas Vega.
Nobody interrupted us.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
Rebecca laughed.
“I came to ask him the same question.”
She pointed toward Alessio.
“I thought Rinaldi took David.”
Alessio’s expression did not change.
“I didn’t.”
“I know that now.”
Rebecca looked at me.
“David disappeared last night.”
My stomach tightened.
“When?”
“Around eleven.”
I had been attacked at ten thirty.
“Did he call you?”
“No. He sent one message.”
She slid the phone across the table.
DON’T TRUST MY FATHER. IF I DON’T CALL BY MORNING, GO TO RINALDI.
I stared.
David had told his wife to go to the same man I had chosen independently.
Why?
Alessio asked the question.
Rebecca looked at him.
“David said you were the only person his father couldn’t buy.”
“That is flattering and inaccurate.”
“Which part?”
“Everyone can be bought. The price just changes.”
I studied him.
He noticed.
“Not helping?”
“No.”
“Fair.”
Rebecca explained that David had been terrified for weeks.
He started sleeping with his phone beneath the mattress.
He moved money from a joint account.
He asked her to take their daughter to her mother’s house.
My head snapped up.
“Daughter?”
Rebecca’s face softened.
“Lucy. She’s three.”
I felt sick.
For two years I believed David was unmarried.
He had a child.
Every holiday he claimed his father needed him.
Every weekend conference.
Every last-minute business trip.
A second life.
Rebecca watched me absorb it.
“I didn’t know about you until yesterday.”
“How?”
“I found your photo on his hidden phone.”
Humiliation spread through me.
“I’m sorry.”
She looked surprised.
“For what?”
“I was sleeping with your husband.”
“You thought he was single.”
“Engaged.”
“Still not your crime.”
The simplicity of that sentence hurt.
The doctor returned.
“Elena, we need imaging.”
I gripped the edge of the table.
“Am I pregnant?”
“I can’t confirm here.”
“And the bleeding?”
“Could be several things. Some minor. Some not.”
Alessio stood.
“We go now.”
I looked at him.
He caught himself.
“Would you go now?”
I almost smiled.
“Yes.”
Before we left, Leah received a call.
Her face changed.
“What?”
She listened.
Then looked at Alessio.
“Bellamy Development’s chief financial officer was found dead this morning.”
Rebecca whispered, “No.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Peter Lang.”
I knew him.
He approved every audit request.
He had called me yesterday.
He said he wanted to talk.
Then canceled.
“Accident?” I asked.
Leah shook her head.
“Fall from his apartment balcony.”
The pattern was accelerating.
The hospital was private and heavily secured.
I hated that I was grateful.
The ultrasound room smelled like disinfectant and lavender.
The technician moved quietly.
The doctor watched the screen.
I watched his face.
Then he smiled slightly.
“You are pregnant.”
My chest stopped moving.
“How far?”
“Approximately seven weeks.”
Seven weeks.
David.
Of course.
“And the bleeding?”
“A small subchorionic hematoma. The pregnancy is currently viable, but you need rest and follow-up.”
Relief came mixed with terror.
I cried.
Not because I knew what I wanted.
Because suddenly there was another life inside a disaster I did not understand.
When I returned to the private waiting room, Alessio stood when he saw me.
He did not ask.
I told him.
“I’m pregnant.”
His expression changed in a way I could not read.
“Are you okay?”
“The baby is okay.”
“I asked about you.”
I looked at him.
“No.”
That was the honest answer.
He nodded.
“No is allowed.”
We returned to the penthouse under police coordination.
By then, detectives had opened a kidnapping investigation for Natalie.
Rebecca’s daughter was placed with her grandmother under protection.
David remained missing.
Then the flash drive I had hidden inside my purse was finally examined.
Not by Alessio’s people.
By a joint forensic team with my attorney present.
The files contained forty-six million in false vendor payments.
But there was more.
A spreadsheet titled DAWN.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
One line included me.
ELENA HART — CONTROL / DAVID.
Another included Rebecca.
REBECCA BELLAMY — FAMILY LIABILITY.
Natalie’s name appeared too.
NATALIE HART — LEVERAGE.
I felt cold.
“What is DAWN?” I asked.
Alessio’s attorney scrolled.
“It looks like a project code.”
Rebecca moved closer.
Then she pointed.
“Lucy.”
Her daughter’s name appeared on the next page.
LUCY BELLAMY — SUCCESSION.
Rebecca went white.
Alessio leaned toward the screen.
“Succession to what?”
Nobody knew.
Then Tomas entered carrying a sealed envelope.
“It was delivered downstairs.”
“To who?”
“Elena.”
No return address.
Police photographed it before opening.
Inside was one photograph.
Natalie sitting in a chair.
Alive.
Holding that morning’s newspaper.
Behind her was a window overlooking water.
On the back of the photograph, one sentence had been written.
BRING THE DRIVE TO PIER 17 AT MIDNIGHT. COME ALONE.
I stared.
Alessio read it.
“No.”
I turned on him.
“She’s my sister.”
“And they expect you to come.”
“Obviously.”
“They expect you to be desperate.”
“I am.”
“That does not mean you go alone.”
I stood.
The doctor had told me to rest.
I ignored him.
“You said my sister wouldn’t pay for your impatience.”
“She won’t.”
“Then don’t stop me.”
“I’m not stopping you.”
His voice remained controlled.
“I’m telling you we make them believe you’re alone.”
I looked at him.
Rebecca did too.
“What are you suggesting?”
Alessio pointed to the photograph.
“They chose a public pier.”
“So?”
“So they want visibility.”
“To avoid police?”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
“To see who protects you.”
My stomach tightened.
“This isn’t only about the drive.”
“No.”
“What do they want?”
Alessio looked at the DAWN spreadsheet.
“I think they want to know whether you came to me.”
The room went quiet.
Rebecca whispered, “Why would that matter?”
Alessio looked at her.
“Because whoever built this operation has been stealing through my companies for years.”
Then at me.
“And Elena may have just become the witness who can connect them to me.”
The meeting at Pier 17 was not a ransom exchange.
May you like
It was a test.
And we had until midnight to decide how to fail it on purpose.
