Chapter 2 - THE PHOTOGRAPHS HE NEVER EXPLAINED
“Because two weeks before I asked for the divorce, someone sent me photographs of you…”
Adrian stopped.
His face had gone completely still.
“…and told me exactly what would happen if you remained my wife.”
For several seconds, I could hear nothing except the distant wheels of a hospital cart rolling across the polished floor.
I stared at him.
“What photographs?”
He reached inside his black coat.
My first instinct was to step back.
Instead, he pulled out a small envelope.
It was old.
The edges were worn, and one corner had been folded so many times it was nearly white.
He handed it to me.
“I kept them.”
My fingers trembled as I opened it.
The first photograph showed me leaving Moretti Capital.
I remembered that day.
The second showed me sitting at a café in SoHo with a man I barely knew.
The third showed me entering our apartment building.
The fourth made my stomach turn.
It showed me standing outside a small jewelry store.
I looked at the date.
Three years ago.
Three months after our wedding.
“I don't understand.”
“You weren't supposed to.”
I looked up.
“Who took these?”
“I never found out.”
That answer angered me more than anything else.
“You're telling me you destroyed our marriage because someone sent you photographs you couldn't even verify?”
“I didn't destroy it.”
“You signed the papers.”
“So did you.”
“Because you gave me no choice.”
His jaw tightened.
“You think I wanted that?”
“You made it very clear.”
“I made it look that way.”
The words landed differently.
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
Adrian looked down the empty corridor.
Then back at me.
“The person who sent these photographs knew things about you that almost nobody knew.”
“What things?”
“That you had coffee every Tuesday at the same place.”
My heart tightened.
“That you visited your mother's grave on the anniversary of her death.”
I said nothing.
“That you wore your mother's bracelet whenever you were frightened.”
My hand immediately went to my wrist.
The thin silver bracelet was hidden beneath my sleeve.
Adrian noticed.
His eyes softened for one second.
Then hardened again.
“They knew about the bracelet,” he said.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Then how could you possibly believe them?”
“I didn't believe everything.”
“Everything?”
He looked at the photograph in my hand.
“But I believed enough.”
I shook my head.
“You should have trusted me.”
“I did.”
“No, Adrian. You trusted whoever was threatening you.”
His silence told me I had hit something.
“What did they threaten?”
He looked at my stomach.
“They told me that if I stayed married to you, you would become leverage.”
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“Leverage for what?”
“My family.”
That word changed the temperature between us.
I knew enough about the Moretti family to understand what he meant.
Adrian had inherited more than money.
He had inherited enemies.
Competitors.
People who had spent years waiting for him to make one mistake.
But I had always believed our marriage was separate from that world.
Apparently, I had been wrong.
“They said they would hurt me?”
“They said they would make you disappear.”
My hand tightened around the envelope.
“You believed that?”
“I had already received proof.”
“What proof?”
Adrian hesitated.
Then pulled something else from his pocket.
A photograph.
Not of me.
Of my father.
I stared at it.
My father had been dead for seven years.
He was standing outside a warehouse.
Beside him was a man I didn't recognize.
On the back of the photograph was a handwritten date.
Adrian watched my face.
“This arrived the morning after your father died.”
My heart began pounding.
“My father died in a car accident.”
“I know.”
“What does this have to do with us?”
“I don't know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I spent three years trying to find out.”
I looked at him.
“Three years?”
“Yes.”
“You could have told me.”
“I couldn't.”
“Why?”
“Because every time I got close, something happened.”
“What?”
“My office was searched.”
I froze.
“My private accounts were accessed.”
Another pause.
“And six months before our divorce, someone tried to enter our apartment while you were sleeping.”
I stared at him.
“Why didn't I know?”
“Because I stopped it.”
“You stopped it?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you never tell me?”
His expression broke for the first time.
“Because I was afraid you would stay with me.”
I didn't know what to say.
Adrian stepped closer.
“I knew you would choose me over yourself.”
“And you decided for me.”
“Yes.”
“At least you're finally honest.”
He accepted the accusation.
Then his eyes moved to my stomach.
“I made one mistake.”
“What?”
“I thought pushing you away would keep you safe.”
He swallowed.
“I didn't know you were carrying my child.”
The words should have comforted me.
Instead, they hurt.
Because suddenly I understood how much had been taken from both of us.
Before I could answer, a voice came from behind us.
“Adrian.”
Marco.
He was holding a phone.
His expression was unusually tense.
Adrian turned.
“What?”
Marco looked at me.
Then back at him.
“We found the original.”
Adrian's face changed.
“The original what?”
“The photograph.”
He handed Adrian the phone.
Adrian stared at the screen.
Then his eyes lifted to me.
“What is it?”
He didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
On the screen was a scanned photograph.
It showed me.
But not three years ago.
Six months ago.
I was standing outside a pediatric clinic.
I had never been there.
I looked at Adrian.
“I've never seen that place.”
“I know.”
Marco spoke quietly.
“Because the woman in the photograph isn't Claire.”
My heart stopped.
I looked again.
The woman had my coat.
My hairstyle.
Even my mother's silver bracelet.
But her face was turned slightly away.
Someone had deliberately made her look like me.
Adrian zoomed in.
There was one detail visible.
A small scar behind the woman's left ear.
I touched my own ear.
No scar.
Marco whispered,
“Someone has been impersonating your wife for months.”
Adrian's expression became frighteningly calm.
Then the hospital lights flickered.
And Marco added,
“Boss, there's one more problem.”
May you like
“What?”
“The woman in that photograph just entered this hospital.”
