Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN BEHIND THE PEARLS
For three days, Maeve Donnelly stopped existing.
Margaret brought in a stylist who signed a confidentiality agreement before entering the house.
Maeve’s red-brown hair was darkened to match Sienna’s.
Her eyebrows were shaped.
Her nails were polished.
Her inexpensive clothes disappeared into garment bags.
Sienna’s ivory blouses, tailored coats, silk dresses, and designer shoes replaced them.
Maeve hated every minute of it.
On the second evening, Sienna fastened a strand of pearls around Maeve’s throat.
“They were my grandmother’s.”
Maeve looked at herself in the mirror.
“Then you should wear them.”
“I’m not the one going.”
“No.”
Maeve met her reflection.
“You’re just the one lying.”
Sienna’s jaw tightened.
“You think I wanted any of this?”
“You wanted out.”
“I didn’t ask him to get hurt.”
“Neither did he.”
Sienna pulled her hands away from the necklace.
“You don’t know him.”
Maeve turned.
“Neither do you, apparently.”
The slap came so quickly Maeve barely saw Sienna’s hand move.
Her cheek burned.
Sienna froze.
Maeve slowly turned her face back.
For a moment, neither woman spoke.
Then Maeve said quietly, “Do that again, and I walk away.”
Sienna stared at her.
“You wouldn’t.”
Maeve removed one pearl earring.
“Try me.”
Margaret entered before Sienna could answer.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” Maeve said.
Sienna said nothing.
Margaret noticed the redness on Maeve’s cheek and immediately understood.
“You cannot mark her face.”
The words were not protective.
They were practical.
Maeve felt something inside her go cold.
The following afternoon, Margaret brought photographs.
Elias at galas.
Elias beside waterfront projects.
Elias leaving federal court after testifying in a corruption investigation.
Elias standing beside Sienna at a charity auction.
Maeve studied his face.
He rarely smiled.
When he did, it did not reach his eyes.
“He will know,” she said.
Margaret shook her head.
“Before the engagement, they met less than a dozen times privately.”
Sienna rolled her eyes.
“He was always working.”
Margaret ignored her.
“Afterward, they were photographed together more than they were alone.”
Maeve looked at a picture of Elias holding Sienna’s hand.
“He touched you.”
Sienna laughed.
“Maeve, men like Elias don’t notice women the way ordinary men do.”
Maeve looked at her.
“That may be why you’re about to lose him.”
Sienna’s smile disappeared.
That evening, Gabriel Ferraro arrived to escort “Sienna” to the Marchetti estate.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and unnervingly observant.
His eyes paused on Maeve for half a second too long.
Margaret kissed Maeve’s cheek.
“For Finn.”
Maeve wanted to pull away.
Instead she whispered, “If anything happens to him, I tell Elias everything.”
Margaret’s smile never changed.
“You won’t need to.”
The drive north took forty minutes.
Maeve barely breathed.
The Marchetti residence stood behind iron gates and acres of late-autumn trees.
It was not ostentatious.
That frightened her more.
Power did not need marble lions at the gate when everyone already knew who lived inside.
Gabriel led her through a quiet entrance hall.
A wheelchair stood near the library windows.
And in it sat Elias Marchetti.
Black trousers.
White shirt.
No tie.
One hand resting loosely on the wheel.
The other turning a black onyx ring.
Maeve stopped.
His eyes lifted to hers.
For one terrible second, she knew.
He knew.
Then Elias said, “You cut your hair.”
Maeve’s heart nearly stopped.
She touched the shorter layers around her face.
“Yes.”
He studied her.
“I liked it longer.”
Maeve swallowed.
“I needed a change.”
Something unreadable moved through his eyes.
Then he gestured toward the chair opposite him.
“Come sit down, Sienna.”
Maeve crossed the room.
Every step felt like a confession.
She sat.
Elias watched her for several seconds.
May you like
Then he asked the simplest question Margaret had never prepared her for.
“Why did you come back?”
