Chapter 4: What Vanessa Knew
She was smiling.
The same smile from earlier — the one over her pregnant belly.
But this one had something extra in it.
"How do you know him?" she asked.
"That's not really your business."
"No," Vanessa agreed pleasantly.
"I suppose it isn't." She reached past me for a glass of water from a passing tray.
Unhurried.
Like we were old friends catching up.
"It's just that Tyler knows the Fierro family.
Professionally.
And he's never mentioned a wife."
"Maybe Giovanni doesn't discuss his personal life with people like Tyler."
Something flickered behind her eyes.
Not quite hurt.
Closer to recalibration.
"You've changed," she said.
"Five years will do that."
"You used to be softer."
"I used to have help," I said.
"Then I didn't.
You adjust."
Vanessa's hand moved to her belly again.
That gesture.
I was starting to understand it wasn't comfort — it was armor.
"I want you to know," she said, "that what happened between Tyler and me — it wasn't planned."
"I know exactly how planned it was."
Her chin lifted slightly.
"We were in love."
"You were in my house," I said.
"At my kitchen table.
Eating food I bought.
While I was working a night shift so we could make rent." I kept my voice even.
"I know what it was."
She was quiet for a moment.
"He loves me," she said finally.
But it came out smaller than she intended.
"Then you have what you wanted," I said.
"Congratulations."
I turned to go.
"He asked about Lily," Vanessa said behind me.
I stopped.
"He wants to be in her life.
He told me last week.
He's thinking about filing for — "
"Don't." I turned back around.
"Don't finish that sentence at my sister's wedding."
"I'm just telling you what he said."
"You're telling me as a warning," I said.
"Which means you already know it's a threat.
Which means somewhere underneath all of this, you know exactly what kind of man you married."
Her mouth opened.
Closed.
The smile was gone now.
"He has rights," she said.
"He has a lawyer," I said.
"So do I.
And mine is very good." That last part wasn't true.
I didn't have a lawyer.
I had a legal aid number saved in my phone that I'd never called.
But Vanessa didn't need to know that.
I walked away before she could recover.
My heart was going too fast.
I found a quiet corner near the windows — the river dark and wide below — and pressed my fingers against the glass and breathed.
Tyler wanted to file for something.
Custody.
Visitation.
I didn't know how far it had gone, how serious it was, whether it was a real plan or a threat Vanessa had lobbed to watch me react.
But Lily's face came into my mind.
Five years old and already so careful about other people's feelings.
She'd asked me last month why she didn't have a daddy at home.
I'd told her some families look different.
She'd accepted it with the quiet trust that children give you before they're old enough to know better.
"You look like you need a drink."
I turned.
A young woman stood nearby.
Late twenties, maybe.
Dark eyes.
A plain black dress that didn't match the wealth in the room.
She was holding a glass of sparkling water and watching me with an expression that was — unexpectedly — kind.
"I'm fine," I said.
"You're not," she said.
"But that's okay.
Neither am I." She extended her hand.
"Mia."
"Jessica."
"I know." She said it simply, without the weight Giovanni had put behind the same words.
"I saw you dancing with Giovanni."
I looked at her more carefully.
"He's my cousin," she said.
"Not a close one.
But close enough that I know what tonight was about." She paused.
"And close enough to know that my aunt Renata is already on the phone with the family attorney."
The cold came back.
"About what?"
Mia looked at me steadily.
"About verifying whether you're real," she said.
"She's going to dig, Jessica.
She has people who do it quickly.
By tomorrow morning, she'll know everything — where you live, where you work, how much you earn, who Lily's father is."
I stared at her.
"Why are you telling me this?"
Mia glanced across the room to where Renata stood, back turned, phone to her ear.
"Because I've watched that woman dismantle three people who got in her way," she said quietly.
"And I think you deserve to know what you walked into."
She set her glass down on the windowsill.
"Whatever Giovanni offered you — it isn't enough," she said.
"It's never enough.
Not with her involved."
She walked away before I could ask another question.
I turned back to the window.
Downstairs, through the glass, the river moved on without any interest in what was happening above it.
My phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
I answered.
"Ms.
Hale." A man's voice.
Smooth.
Professional.
"My name is Carver.
I work for the Fierro family.
I'm calling to let you know that we are aware of this evening's arrangement — and we'd like to discuss the terms before you make any further decisions."
"Who exactly do you work for?" I asked.
May you like
A pause.
"Not Giovanni," he said.
