Chapter 6
Rebecca’s office was all glass and steel, the kind of space designed to make visitors feel small. Elena sat across the vast desk from her, a recorder running between them.
“Start with the finances,” Rebecca said. “How much control did Marcus have?”
“Complete. I had an allowance — five hundred a week for personal expenses. Everything else went through him or his assistant.”
Rebecca’s eyebrow rose.
“Five hundred a week. Your husband’s net worth is approximately forty million dollars.”
Said aloud, the number was obscene.
“He said it was generous. That most wives didn’t get anything.”
“Most wives have access to joint accounts. Credit cards. Assets.” Rebecca leaned forward. “Did you have anything in your own name?”
“No. He said it was easier to manage everything together. That I didn’t need to worry about finances.”
“Translation: total control.” She made a note. “What about your accounts from before the marriage?”
“I had a savings account. About eight thousand dollars. He convinced me to close it and put the money toward our honeymoon. He said we were a team now — no need for separate finances.”
“So he isolated you financially within the first month.” Rebecca looked up. “Did he ever threaten you explicitly?”
“Not with violence. But he made it clear what would happen if I left. He’d destroy my father’s business — what’s left of it. He’d make sure no one in Chicago would hire me. He’d tell everyone I was unstable. That I tried to hurt myself. That I was an embarrassment to his name.” Elena’s voice dropped. “And I believed him. Because Marcus doesn’t make empty threats.”
Rebecca’s phone buzzed on the desk. She glanced at it, and her expression changed.
“Dominic’s here.”
Elena’s pulse jumped.
“Here? Why?”
“Because he wants to meet with you officially. He’s been helping behind the scenes, but now we’re moving into active strategy — which means you need to understand exactly what you’re getting into.”
Before Elena could answer, the door opened.
Dominic walked in looking different in daylight. Sharper. More dangerous. He wore a dark suit that probably cost more than Elena’s monthly allowance, his hair still slightly damp like he’d just showered, and he moved through the room like he owned the building — which, Elena realized, he might.
“Elena.” He nodded to her, then to Rebecca. “Has she been briefed?”
“We’re building the foundation. Financial control, emotional abuse, affairs.”
“Good.” He sat in the chair beside Elena — close enough that she caught his cologne, something expensive and understated. “Elena. I need to be direct with you. Marcus has already started his counterattack.”
Her stomach clenched.
“What do you mean?”
“This morning he gave an interview to the Tribune.” Dominic pulled out his phone and set it on the desk between them. “Said you’ve been struggling with depression for years. That he’s been trying to get you help but you refuse treatment. That you’ve become increasingly paranoid and erratic.”
Elena looked down at the screen.
REAL ESTATE MOGUL PLEADS FOR MISSING WIFE’S SAFE RETURN.
The photo showed Marcus looking haggard, hand pressed to his forehead, eyes down. The article quoted him extensively. Elena is the love of my life. But she’s been battling demons I can’t fight for her. I just want her to come home so we can get her the help she needs.
“He’s lying.” Elena’s hand shook. “I’ve never been diagnosed with depression. I’ve never refused treatment.”
“I know,” Dominic said. “And we’re going to prove it. But you need to understand how this plays out. Right now Marcus has the sympathy angle — the worried husband, the devoted partner. We need to shift that narrative, and shift it hard.”
“How?”
“We go public with the truth. Your truth.”
Rebecca pulled up a document.
“We’ve drafted a statement. You read it, approve it, and we release it to the media this afternoon. It details the emotional abuse, the affairs, the financial control. Everything.”
Elena’s chest tightened.
“That will destroy my privacy. Everyone will know.”
“Everyone will know you’re a survivor, not a victim,” Dominic said. His voice was firm but not unkind. “Right now, Marcus controls the story. We take that power back.”
“What if no one believes me? Marcus has friends everywhere — connections, power —”
“So do I.” Dominic leaned back. “And mine don’t care about country club memberships or political donations. They care about results.”
Something in his tone made Elena look at him more closely.
“Who are you, really?”
Rebecca and Dominic exchanged a glance.
“I’m someone who knows how men like Marcus operate,” Dominic said carefully. “Someone who has the resources to fight them. That’s all you need to know right now.”
“No.”
Her voice came out stronger than she expected. Dominic’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
“If I’m trusting you with my life, I need to know who you are.”
A slow smile crossed his face.
“Fair enough. I own several businesses in Chicago. Construction, real estate, development, import, export. Some of my methods are unconventional. I have friends in places Marcus can’t reach. And I have a particular talent for finding information people want to keep hidden.”
“You’re saying you’re a criminal.”
“I’m saying I operate in gray areas. Always have.” He didn’t look away. “Does that change things for you?”
Elena thought about it. About Marcus’s pristine reputation built on cruelty. About the judges and the politicians he’d bought. About twelve years of playing by rules that had only ever protected him.
“No,” she said. “It doesn’t.”
“Good. Because we’re about to get very dirty, very fast.”
He opened a folder and spread photographs across Rebecca’s desk. Elena stared.
Marcus with Veronica at the Peninsula Hotel. Marcus with Amanda at his Lake Forest property. Marcus with a woman named Diane — she’s married to one of his business partners, Dominic said — at a restaurant in the suburbs.
“You’ve been following him.”
“I’ve been documenting him. There’s a difference.” He tapped one photograph. “This one’s particularly useful. Taken three weeks ago.”
Elena looked closer. Marcus and Veronica at a candlelit table. And on Veronica’s hand, catching the light —
“That’s my grandmother’s ring.”
Her voice came out strange and thin.
“He told me it was stolen. He filed an insurance claim on it.”
“We have the jeweler’s records showing he had it resized.” Rebecca’s smile was predatory. “That’s not just infidelity, Elena. That’s theft of marital property.”
“How did you get all of this?”
“I told you. I have resources.”
Dominic gathered the photographs and slid them back into the folder.
“But here’s what matters. We have enough evidence to destroy Marcus’s reputation and credibility. The question is whether you’re ready for what comes next. Because once we release your statement, there’s no going back. He’ll come at you with everything he has.”
Elena thought about the coat room. About being called a placeholder. About twelve years of disappearing.
“I’m ready.”
“You’re sure? Because Marcus will hire private investigators. He’ll dig into your past looking for anything he can use against you.”
“Let him dig.” Her voice was still. “I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ve been the perfect wife. The perfect prisoner. There’s nothing to find.”
Dominic’s expression shifted into something that looked, for a moment, like respect.
“All right, then.” He stood. “Rebecca — release the statement. Schedule a press conference for tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow.” Elena’s stomach dropped. “That’s too soon. I need time to prepare —”
“There is no preparing for this,” Rebecca said gently. “You sit at a table and you read a statement. You don’t take questions. Five minutes and it’s done. And then we file for divorce. Full asset disclosure. Restraining order. The works.”
“We’re asking for half of everything, plus spousal support, plus damages for emotional distress.” Rebecca pulled up more documents. “The Lake Forest house, since it was purchased with marital funds. Compensation for the twelve years you gave up your career and your financial independence.”
“How much are we talking about?”
“Twenty million. Give or take.”
Elena’s head spun. “He’ll never agree to that.”
“He doesn’t have to agree. Illinois is a no-fault divorce state — but we’re documenting fault anyway. Adultery, financial abuse, emotional cruelty.” Rebecca’s eyes gleamed. “By the time we’re done, Marcus will be lucky if he keeps half of what he has. And that’s assuming we don’t find criminal activity in his business dealings.”
“What criminal activity?”
Dominic and Rebecca exchanged another look.
“Your husband’s real estate empire was built very quickly,” Dominic said. “Too quickly. There are questions about how he acquired certain properties. Zoning changes that happened suspiciously fast. Permits that bypassed normal channels. We’re looking into all of it.”
“You think he bribed officials.”
“I think your husband cuts corners. And when you cut enough corners, eventually you cut something illegal.” He stood. “But that’s our problem, not yours. Your job is to get through tomorrow’s press conference. Rebecca will prep you. I’ll handle everything else.”
“Wait.”
Elena stood too.
“Why are you doing this? Really? You said you’ve been watching Marcus for six months. You had all this evidence before you ever met me. So why now? Why me?”
Dominic was silent for a long moment. When he answered, his voice had lost its edge.
“Because I watched him humiliate you in that coat room. I was there for a meeting with another guest. I happened to be walking by when he dragged you in.” He looked at her steadily. “I heard what he said to you. I saw your face when you walked out.”
His jaw tightened.
“And I decided right then that Marcus Martinez needed to lose something that mattered to him. Turns out his reputation matters more than his wife ever did.”
The honesty hit her like a wave.
“You heard everything. Every word.”
“Every word. And when you threw that necklace in his face, I knew you were finally ready to fight.”
He moved toward the door, then paused.
“Get some rest tonight. Tomorrow’s going to be brutal. Rebecca will have security take you to a safe location — you can’t go back to that hotel. Marcus knows where you are. He’ll send people. Lawyers, investigators, maybe friends, all of them trying to convince you to come home. You need to be somewhere he can’t find you.”
He set a second business card on the desk — different from the first.
“Be there by eight tonight. It’s secure.”
After he left, Elena sank back into her chair. Her whole body was trembling.
“Is he always this intense?” she asked.
“Always.” Rebecca began packing her files. “But he’s also always effective. Elena, I know this is overwhelming, but you need to trust the process. Trust Dominic. He wouldn’t be this invested if he didn’t think we could win.”
“What if we don’t? What if Marcus finds a way to —”
“He won’t. Because we’re not playing his game anymore. We’re playing ours.”
Rebecca’s phone buzzed again. She frowned at the screen.
“Your father’s trying to reach you through my office.”
Elena’s heart sank.
“What does he want?”
“To talk sense into you, I imagine. Should I connect him?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Elena pressed her hands to her face. “He’ll take Marcus’s side. He always does.”
“Then tell him that. Tell him exactly how it feels to have your own father choose money over you.” Rebecca’s voice was hard. “Or don’t take the call at all. But if you do, I’m recording it. Everything from now on gets documented.”
May you like
Elena took a shaky breath.
“Put him through.”
