Chapter 8 - THE HOUSE THAT HAD NO WIFE|
Vincent arrived at the hotel at 9:20 that morning.
He had driven there himself, ignoring his driver and two security men who tried to persuade him to wait. He expected Claire to be sitting in the lobby, furious but willing to talk. He expected to see the familiar stubbornness in her eyes, the same look she wore whenever she challenged him over a decision he believed was final.
Instead, the receptionist informed him that she had checked out.
“Where did she go?”
“I'm sorry, sir. We don't disclose guest information.”
Vincent leaned forward.
“You know who I am?”
“Yes.”
“Then you understand why I need an answer.”
The receptionist's expression did not change.
“I understand that your wife is entitled to privacy.”
The word struck him.
Wife.
He had spent years preventing strangers from using it.
Now a woman behind a hotel desk used it without fear, while he stood there unable to discover where Claire had gone.
He stepped away before his temper could make the situation worse.
Outside, he called Marco.
“Where is she?”
“I don't know her exact location.”
“Don't lie to me.”
“I'm not.”
“Did you help her leave?”
Marco took a breath.
“Yes.”
Vincent's voice dropped to a dangerous quiet.
“Explain.”
“She asked for a way to leave without a confrontation. I made sure nobody stopped her.”
“You work for me.”
“I know.”
“And you helped my wife disappear?”
“I helped a woman exercise her right to leave.”
Vincent stared at the hotel entrance.
For a moment, he considered firing Marco. He could have ended the conversation with one sentence. The man had served him for fifteen years and knew where every weakness in the Moretti operation was buried.
But Marco had also stood beside Claire when Vincent had not.
“Where is she going?” Vincent asked.
“I won't tell you.”
Vincent ended the call.
He returned to his car and drove to the Moretti estate, a sprawling property outside Chicago where the family had lived for generations. The house was immaculate, staffed by people who spoke quietly and moved quickly.
It had always seemed safe to him.
Now every room reminded him of Claire.
Her favorite mug stood beside the kitchen sink. A book she had been reading lay open on the library table. In the bedroom, the space beside his pillow looked impossibly empty.
He opened the closet and found her hangers missing.
Only a few dresses remained.
He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the empty space.
His phone rang.
Sophia.
He almost declined the call, then answered.
“Vincent? I've been worried about you.”
“I'm busy.”
“I heard Claire left.”
“Who told you?”
“People talk.”
“Then stop listening to them.”
Sophia fell silent.
“I only wanted to help,” she said.
“Did you know she was leaving?”
“No.”
“Did you know she had hired a divorce attorney?”
A pause.
“Vincent, if she wants to end the marriage, perhaps you should respect her decision.”
He frowned.
“You're the last person I expected to say that.”
“I'm just being honest.”
He thought of the emails Marco had mentioned but had not yet shown him. He thought of Sophia's resemblance to Isabella, and the strange comfort he had found in it.
“Come to my office this afternoon,” he said.
“Why?”
“I want to discuss your position.”
Her voice tightened.
“Am I being fired?”
“I haven't decided.”
When the call ended, Vincent opened the drawer containing Claire's photograph. Beneath it, he found a small box she had once used for jewelry.
The box was empty except for a folded piece of paper.
It was a list written in Claire's handwriting.
Things I want to do someday.
Learn Italian properly.
Open a financial consulting firm.
Travel without checking his schedule.
Have a child.
The last item had been underlined twice.
Vincent stared at it.
They had discussed children once, early in their marriage. He had told her the timing was wrong. Then another year passed, followed by another. He had always promised they would revisit the question when his business was stable.
He had never asked what she wanted now.
He had simply assumed there would always be time.
His phone vibrated with a message from Jonathan Reed.
Mr. Moretti, I represent Claire in the dissolution of your marriage. Please direct all communication through my office.
Vincent read it, then read it again.
For the first time, he understood that Claire's departure was not a dramatic gesture.
May you like
It was a decision.
And the house he had built to protect his family had become the place from which his wife needed to escape.
