CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ALYSSA
The apartment had one bedroom, a narrow balcony and a kitchen designed for a person who considered toast a complete meal.
Alyssa had bought it through her design company six years earlier because the building occupied a useful corner in Coconut Grove and the owner needed cash before a divorce. She had planned to renovate the unit, furnish it and rent it to visiting consultants.
Instead, it became the first home she entered without Damian in eleven years.
Martin carried her suitcase into the bedroom and looked around.
“You own furniture companies,” he said.
“I don’t own a furniture company.”
“You know people who own furniture companies.”
“I know people who will ask why I need a sofa at one in the morning.”
The apartment contained a bed, a small dining table and a leather chair left by the previous tenant. The chair faced a blank wall.
Martin set her suitcase beside the closet.
“Do you want me to stay?”
“No.”
“That answer lacked credibility.”
“I’m not going to do anything reckless.”
“I was referring to crying.”
“Oh.”
“You’re allowed.”
“I’ll schedule it.”
“That sounds healthy.”
Alyssa sat on the edge of the bed.
The blue gala dress remained smooth except for the torn neckline where Vanessa had caught the necklace. A thin scratch ran across Alyssa’s collarbone. Another marked the back of her neck.
Martin opened his phone.
“The separation petition has been filed.”
“How long before Damian receives it?”
“His attorneys will have the electronic notice within the hour. Formal service follows in the morning.”
“He’ll call.”
“He already has.”
Martin turned the screen toward her.
Seven missed calls.
Three messages.
Where are you?
I need to speak to you.
Please answer me.
A fourth arrived while they watched.
This is not how our marriage ends.
Alyssa handed the phone back.
“Did he say that before or after having security remove me?”
“I wasn’t there for the call.”
“Wise.”
Martin sat in the leather chair.
“His attorney contacted me. Damian wants confirmation that you are safe.”
“He knows I left with you.”
“He also wants your address.”
“No.”
“I said no.”
“Thank you.”
“He requested direct communication concerning the foundation, the estate and Sophie.”
“Sophie?”
“He says she is distressed.”
Alyssa pictured the child screaming beside Vanessa’s blood, repeating the sentence she had been taught.
Mrs Vader pushed her.
“Is Vanessa conscious?”
“She gave a hospital statement.”
Already.
“What did she say?”
Martin’s expression warned her.
“Tell me.”
“She claims you became angry after Sophie brought you upstairs. She says you accused her of trying to steal Damian and threatened to have her arrested. According to Vanessa, you grabbed her necklace and pushed her when she attempted to leave.”
Alyssa looked at the damaged neckline of her dress.
“She tore mine.”
“I know.”
“Did the police recover her phone?”
“No device was found near the staircase.”
“She had it in her hand.”
“Security searched the landing.”
“She must have thrown it before she fell.”
“Or given it to Sophie.”
The possibility turned her stomach.
Martin continued.
“Vanessa told police she forgives you.”
Alyssa laughed.
The sound came out sharp enough to disturb the quiet apartment.
“Of course she does.”
“She described you as a good woman suffering a breakdown.”
“Did she mention the loosened screws?”
“The hotel engineer confirmed several fastenings were loose.”
“Good.”
“He also said construction work had continued in that area during the week.”
“So it can be blamed on a contractor.”
“Yes.”
Alyssa stood and walked to the kitchen.
The cupboards held four wineglasses and no wine. She filled a tumbler with tap water instead.
“Was the scalp cut caused by the fall?”
“The hospital hasn’t released records.”
“It existed before.”
“You saw it?”
“No. She had her hair arranged over that side.”
Martin watched her drink.
“We need to decide how much we release.”
“Nothing involving Sophie.”
“Alyssa.”
“No photograph. No audio. No statement identifying her.”
“Sophie is already in every article.”
“Because Vanessa put her there.”
“The child accused you in front of witnesses.”
“The child was coached.”
“That will be our position.”
“It cannot become an attack on her.”
Martin leaned forward.
“Silence will be interpreted as guilt.”
“Then let people interpret.”
“You could lose the foundation.”
“I already have.”
“You have not.”
Alyssa placed the glass beside the sink.
“Draft my resignation.”
His face changed.
“From Vader Global?”
“And the foundation.”
“The forensic audit may clear you within days.”
“I don’t want Damian arguing that he saved my position.”
“You founded the organization.”
“Yes.”
“So fight for it.”
“I am fighting for it.”
“By leaving?”
“By separating it from this marriage.”
Martin rubbed his jaw.
“The foundation charter allows the board to appoint an interim chair. Your resignation would be difficult to reverse.”
“Good.”
“You’re making permanent decisions during a crisis.”
“That phrase is popular tonight.”
“I am not Damian.”
“No. You’re listening.”
She returned to the bedroom and opened her suitcase.
Three dresses. Underwear. Toiletries. Her passport. The folder of personal documents she had copied weeks earlier.
Everything else remained at the estate.
The house contained eleven years of clothes, books, drawings and photographs. It also contained the dining table she had commissioned in Portugal, the piano Damian bought after hearing her play once at a hotel bar and a cellar filled with wine she disliked but understood enough to order.
None of it felt urgent.
“What will you do?” Martin asked.
“Work.”
“For whom?”
“Myself.”
He studied her.
“You have a company that owns one nearly empty apartment.”
“It also owns the rights to seven hotel interiors.”
“Vader Global commissioned those designs.”
“My contract returned unused concepts after eighteen months.”
Alyssa took out her laptop.
“Damian’s legal team renewed the development schedules but failed to issue fresh design commissions.”
Martin’s eyebrows rose.
“You’ve checked?”
“Last week.”
“Remind me never to marry an interior architect.”
“You couldn’t afford the curtains.”
For the first time that night, Martin smiled.
Alyssa opened a folder marked INDEPENDENT PROJECTS.
Inside sat plans for an Art Deco hotel near Espa?ola Way. The owner had approached her months ago. She had declined because Vader Global occupied too much of her schedule.
The building required new plumbing, restored windows and an argument with a preservation committee that considered peeling paint historically important.
It was perfect.
By three in the morning, Alyssa had drafted a proposal.
At four, the news alerts began.
VANESSA LAURENT FORGIVES BILLIONAIRE’S WIFE AFTER GALA ATTACK
ALYSSA VADER’S PUBLIC brEAKDOWN
FOUNDATION FUNDS, MEDICAL HISTORY AND A MARRIAGE IN CRISIS
One website placed the gala photograph beside the old images of Damian and Vanessa’s engagement. The article described Vanessa’s red dress and emerald necklace as a “possible signal of enduring family closeness.”
Family closeness.
Apparently attempted replacement now came with fashion commentary.
A clip from the hospital appeared before sunrise.
Vanessa lay against white pillows with a bandage wrapped around her head and her left wrist supported in a rigid brace. Her face looked pale beneath hospital lighting.
“I don’t want Alyssa punished,” she told the reporter. “She needs compassion. Damian loves his wife. I hope people remember that.”
The interviewer asked whether Vanessa feared returning to the estate.
“My daughter and I have nowhere else safe.”
Alyssa closed the laptop.
At seven, she showered and changed into black pants and a white shirt.
At seven-thirty, Martin emailed the resignation letters.
At eight, Damian called from a number she did not recognize.
Alyssa watched it ring.
A message followed.
Please do not resign. We need to speak before you do anything else.
She forwarded it to Martin without replying.
At nine, the foundation board accepted her resignation pending a governance review.
At nine-sixteen, Vader Global acknowledged the termination of her consultancy agreements.
The company statement thanked Alyssa for her years of creative contribution.
Years.
Creative contribution.
The language reduced eleven years of work to arranging flowers in a lobby.
By ten, three design publications had called for comment.
Alyssa declined all of them.
At noon, the owner of the Art Deco hotel accepted her proposal and asked when she could begin.
“Monday,” Alyssa said.
“You’re available that quickly?”
“My calendar cleared.”
A pause followed.
“I saw the news.”
“Most people did.”
“I don’t care about your marriage.”
“Good.”
“I care about the hotel.”
“Even better.”
The man laughed.
They agreed to meet at the site the following morning.
Carmen arrived at the apartment shortly after three.
She carried two garment bags and a cardboard box.
“How did you get the address?” Alyssa asked.
“Mr Lewis sent his assistant.”
Alyssa stepped aside.
Carmen entered and looked around with open disapproval.
“There is no lamp beside the bed.”
“I noticed.”
“No kettle.”
“The kitchen has a saucepan.”
“That is barbaric.”
She hung the garment bags in the closet and placed the box on the table.
Inside sat Alyssa’s grandmother’s earrings, her proposal photograph, a framed photograph from Marrakech and the sketchbook containing the first hotel plans she had drawn after marrying Damian.
Alyssa touched the worn leather cover.
“I didn’t ask for these.”
“I know.”
“Did Damian send them?”
“No.”
Carmen’s voice carried an edge.
“What happened at the house?”
“Mr Vader came home at five this morning.”
“Was Vanessa with him?”
“She returned at eleven.”
Alyssa looked up.
“The doctors discharged her?”
“A mild wrist sprain and stitches. She refused to remain overnight.”
“The brace?”
“Hospital property, I assume.”
Carmen removed a set of keys from her pocket and placed them on the table.
“The staff were told Mrs Laurent would stay in the main residence while she recovered.”
“By Damian?”
“By Mrs Laurent.”
Alyssa almost smiled.
“What did he say?”