5 #2
Trevor did not like hearing Dorothy discussed like that. It was an odd reaction, since he had thought nearly the same thing himself. But coming from Vanessa, the words sounded uglier. Less like fact and more like satisfaction.
"She was my wife for three years," he said.
Vanessa's voice softened at once. "I know. I only mean you shouldn't let her manipulate you with guilt."
"Dorothy is not manipulative."
The sentence surprised them both.
Vanessa recovered first. "No. Of course not. I didn't mean it that way."
Trevor rubbed a hand over his brow. He was tired. That was all. Tired, irritated, unsettled by Dorothy's silence and the empty closet. His mind was assigning meaning to things because it was late and because he had not expected resistance from a woman who had spent years yielding.
"She will come back," he said, more to himself than to Vanessa.
"Yes," Vanessa murmured. "She will."
The certainty in Vanessa's voice should have comforted him.
Instead, for reasons he refused to examine, Trevor thought again of the empty hangers in Dorothy's closet. The wedding photo turned face down. The ring placed neatly on his desk. No letter. No accusation. No final plea for him to understand.
A woman who intended to come back usually left a door open.
Dorothy had closed every one.
After ending the call, Trevor did not go to bed.
He sat in his study with the divorce papers before him and Dorothy's ring within reach, telling himself that morning would bring reason back into the house.
Dorothy would answer eventually. She would need something.
Clothes she had left behind. A document.
Access to an account. A driver. Some ordinary thread that still tied her to his world.
At dawn, he called again.
No answer.
At seven, he sent his assistant to discreetly check the city's best hotels.
At eight, he asked the driver which direction Dorothy had taken. The driver said Mrs. Raymond had not used the Raymond car after returning home. Trevor's expression hardened when he realized she had left the estate by another exit, or with someone else, or perhaps on foot to avoid being traced.
By nine, Vanessa arrived at the mansion.
Trevor had not invited her.
She came anyway.
Mrs. Laurel announced her with visible reluctance, standing at the study door as if she would have preferred to claim the entire house had gone deaf.
"Miss Werner is here, sir."
Trevor looked up from his phone. "Send her in."
Mrs. Laurel's face remained composed, but her eyes briefly moved to the folder still lying on the desk. She did not speak. Trevor noticed the glance and disliked it.
Vanessa entered moments later dressed in soft beige, her hair loose around her shoulders, the image of gentle concern. She was not wearing the necklace. Trevor noticed that immediately, and then wondered why he had.
"I thought it would be insensitive," Vanessa said quietly, as though she had followed his gaze. "After last night."
Trevor set his phone down. "You should not have come."
"I know." She approached slowly, careful not to crowd him. "But I was worried about you."
The study had received many people over the years: investors, lawyers, rivals, men who wanted favors and men who thought they could threaten him.
Vanessa looked out of place among the dark wood and controlled order, but she had always made a talent of seeming delicate in powerful rooms.
It made powerful men want to soften the room for her.
She stopped before the desk and looked at the folder.
Trevor closed it.
Vanessa lowered her gaze. "I'm sorry."
"You keep saying that."
"Because I am." Her eyes shone when she looked back at him. "If I had known Dorothy would react like this, I never would have accepted the necklace."
Trevor leaned back in his chair. "Wouldn't you?"
The question slipped out before he considered it.
Vanessa blinked. "What?"
He studied her face. Vanessa's beauty was familiar to him, almost a landmark from another part of his life.
There had been a time when her tears moved him without question.
A time when her trembling voice could pull him out of meetings, dinners, even his own home.
She had been the woman he should have married. He had said that himself.
So why did she seem faintly pleased beneath the worry?
Trevor looked away first.
"Nothing," he said.
Vanessa came around the desk and placed a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Trevor, she wants you to doubt yourself. Don't."
He did not move away, but neither did he lean into the touch.
"She took her things," he said.
"Then she planned this."
"Yes."
"And that means it wasn't just about last night." Vanessa's voice softened, but her words sharpened. "It means she has been waiting for a chance to punish you."
Trevor's jaw tightened.
That interpretation fit his anger well. It gave Dorothy intention, but not pain.
It made her departure an attack rather than a wound.
He found himself wanting to accept it because it restored balance.
If Dorothy was punishing him, then he had only to refuse punishment.
If Dorothy was wounded beyond endurance, then he would have to ask what had wounded her.
Vanessa continued carefully. "You gave her everything, Trevor. Your name. This house. A life people dream of. She repays you by leaving papers on your desk because she didn't like seeing me receive a gift."
The words should have sounded reasonable.
They did sound reasonable.
Trevor looked at the ring.
"Dorothy did not care much for gifts," he said.
Vanessa's hand stilled on his shoulder.
He did not know why he said it. Perhaps because it was true.
Dorothy rarely asked for anything. On holidays, she thanked him politely for whatever his assistant sent on his behalf, whether it suited her or not.
Once, early in their marriage, he had overheard her telling Mrs. Laurel that gifts only mattered when someone thought about them first. He had forgotten the remark until now.
Vanessa withdrew her hand.
"She cared about that necklace," she said.
Trevor looked up.
The room became very quiet.
Vanessa seemed to realize the mistake a moment too late. Her expression softened quickly. "I only mean she seemed upset when you gave it to me."
Trevor watched her. "You noticed?"
"Everyone noticed."
"Before that."
Vanessa's lips parted slightly. "Before?"
"Did you notice she liked it before I bought it?"