Chapter 4 - Marcus Smiles at Dinner
Claire insisted on going home.
Nathan hated the idea.
“Marcus has cameras at your building.”
“He also has dinner with me every Wednesday.”
“That makes it worse.”
“That makes it useful.”
Nathan studied her face.
“You are not bait.”
Claire stared back. “I spent six months being treated like a fragile widow while someone lied about my husband’s death. I’m done being protected from the truth.”
At seven-thirty that evening, Marcus Moretti arrived at Claire’s penthouse carrying white orchids and a bottle of wine.
He was forty, polished, charming, with expensive manners and eyes that never seemed to blink at the wrong moment.
“You look tired,” he said, kissing her cheek.
“I went to the cemetery.”
His hand paused for half a second on her shoulder.
Claire noticed.
“I thought you were trying to go less often.”
“I saw someone there.”
Marcus poured wine.
“Someone?”
“A man who looked like Nicholas.”
The bottle stopped over the glass.
Then Marcus laughed.
“Grief plays cruel games.”
Claire smiled faintly. “That’s what I thought.”
They ate salmon at the marble island.
Claire watched his hands.
Steady.
Too steady.
“You heard about Dr. Shaw?” she asked.
Marcus looked up.
“The medical examiner?”
“She was murdered.”
His expression shifted perfectly into concern.
“That’s awful.”
“You met her after the crash, didn’t you?”
“Briefly.”
Claire knew that was a lie. Marcus had spent forty minutes alone with Shaw at the hospital.
She had seen it herself.
Her phone vibrated once under the counter.
Nathan’s message: ASK ABOUT THE RING.
Claire swallowed.
“Do you remember giving me Nicholas’s wedding ring?”
Marcus leaned back.
“Of course.”
“Who gave it to you?”
For the first time, his eyes hardened.
“A detective.”
“Name?”
Silence.
Then Marcus smiled again.
“Claire, what is this?”
She forced a laugh. “Nothing. I’m sorry.”
He reached across and covered her hand.
“You’ve been through hell.”
His thumb brushed her knuckles.
“Let me keep handling the difficult things.”
Claire’s skin crawled.
After he left, she locked the door and exhaled.
Nathan emerged from the dark hallway.
“You were right,” she whispered.
He nodded toward the wine bottle Marcus had brought.
“I was right about something else too.”
Claire frowned.
Nathan held up a small UV light.
A faint powder glowed around the bottle’s neck.
“What is that?”
Nathan’s voice went flat.
May you like
“A tracking compound used by private security teams.”
Then Claire’s building alarm shut off by itself.
