Chapter 2 - The Billionaire Mafia Boss Publicly Called Her His Wife—Then She Discovered Someone Inside His Empire Had Paid to Humiliate HerBy sunrise, Grace Carter was the most searched woman in America.
Not because of her educational work.
Not because she had helped create a scholarship fund worth eighteen million dollars.
Not because she had spent seven years advocating for students who couldn't afford college.
Because she was Damian Brooks's secret wife.
The headlines were predictable.
MYSTERY WAITRESS REVEALED AS MAFIA BILLIONAIRE'S WIFE.
WHO IS GRACE CARTER?
THE SECRET MRS. BROOKS.
BILLIONAIRE'S HIDDEN BRIDE HUMILIATED AT GALA.
Grace sat at Damian's kitchen island at 6:13 a.m. reading them.
Then closed the laptop.
“I hate everyone.”
Damian poured coffee.
“Reasonable.”
“Apparently I'm twenty-six.”
“You're thirty-two.”
“One website says twenty-four.”
“Congratulations.”
“Another says I met you while working as a cocktail waitress.”
“You met me at a Senate education hearing.”
“Not sexy enough.”
He placed coffee in front of her.
Grace looked at him.
“You haven't slept.”
“Neither have you.”
“I'm furious.”
“So am I.”
“Yes, but when you're furious, people disappear.”
“Not recently.”
“Damian.”
He almost smiled.
Grace drank coffee.
“Where's Vanessa?”
“Police interviewed her.”
“And?”
“She claims the message came from an anonymous number offering her fifty thousand dollars to remove you from the ballroom before ten.”
“Did she take it?”
“Yes.”
Grace stared.
“She assaulted me for fifty thousand dollars?”
“She claims she intended only to humiliate you enough that you'd leave.”
“That is not better.”
“No.”
“Why before ten?”
Damian looked at the clock.
“My flight landed at nine forty-two.”
Grace stopped.
“You were supposed to land after midnight.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you return early?”
He looked at her.
“I missed you.”
She stared.
“That's inconveniently romantic.”
“I apologize.”
“No, you don't.”
“No.”
Grace thought.
“Who knew you were returning?”
“My pilot. Ethan. Nico. My assistant.”
“Nico?”
“My cousin.”
“I know who Nico is.”
“Then why ask?”
“Because I'm exhausted and dramatic.”
“Fair.”
Grace looked toward the windows.
New York was waking beneath them.
“What was supposed to happen after I left?”
“We don't know.”
“Then find out.”
“We are.”
“No.”
Damian looked at her.
“We.”
“Grace.”
She pointed at him.
“Don't.”
His jaw tightened.
“Someone targeted you because of me.”
“Maybe.”
“Almost certainly.”
“Then that makes it my problem too.”
“I don't want you near this.”
“And I didn't want Vanessa's hands near my dress.”
He stopped.
Grace immediately regretted the sentence.
Not because it was wrong.
Because pain flashed across his face.
She softened.
“Damian.”
“I should have been there.”
“No.”
“I should have—”
“Stop.”
He looked at her.
“You are not responsible for every terrible thing that happens when you're not standing next to me.”
“I’m responsible for the enemies attached to my name.”
“Then help me deal with them.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Not hide me from them.”
Silence.
Then Damian nodded.
“All right.”
Grace exhaled.
Progress.
Their marriage had begun under unusual circumstances.
They met three years earlier at a policy hearing.
Grace testified about predatory lending practices targeting low-income students.
Damian attended because Brooks Financial owned one of the companies she criticized.
Afterward, he approached her.
She expected intimidation.
Instead, he said:
“You're right.”
That annoyed her more.
She spent six months consulting on reforms.
They argued constantly.
Then drank coffee.
Then dinner.
Then kissed.
Then fell in love with all the inconvenience that involved.
When Damian proposed, Grace said yes under one condition.
She remained Grace Carter professionally.
No announcements.
No society-page wedding.
No becoming a billionaire accessory.
Damian agreed.
Then one of his rivals threatened a woman merely rumored to be dating him.
The marriage became secret for security too.
Now secrecy was gone.
At eight, Ethan arrived.
With Nico Brooks.
Nico was thirty-five and looked enough like Damian to be mistaken for his younger brother.
He kissed Grace's cheek.
“You broke the internet.”
“Vanessa broke my dress.”
“Fair.”
Damian glared.
Nico held up both hands.
“Too soon.”
Ethan placed files on the table.
“We traced the payment.”
Grace sat straighter.
“To Vanessa?”
“Yes.”
“From?”
“Carter Educational Trust.”
Grace froze.
“My foundation?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Damian's expression became dangerous.
Grace stood.
“That's impossible.”
“Twenty-five thousand before the gala. Twenty-five after.”
“Who authorized it?”
Ethan hesitated.
“Your digital credentials.”
Grace laughed.
“Someone framed me for paying a woman to assault myself?”
“Looks that way.”
Nico sat.
“That’s not the strangest part.”
“What is?”
“The account used isn't supposed to exist.”
Grace stared.
“What?”
Ethan opened a spreadsheet.
“The Carter Educational Trust has three operating accounts.”
“I know.”
“There’s a fourth.”
“No.”
“Opened eleven months ago.”
“By whom?”
“Michael Harrison.”
Grace stopped.
The gala host.
Her colleague.
The man who had watched Vanessa tear her uniform.
“He doesn't have authority.”
“He had paperwork saying he did.”
“Forged?”
“Your signature.”
Grace sat slowly.
Damian looked at Ethan.
“Bring Michael.”
Grace immediately said, “Ask Michael to come.”
Damian glanced at her.
She stared.
“Words matter.”
His mouth tightened.
“Ask Michael to come.”
Nico hid a smile.
Damian noticed.
“Something funny?”
“Marriage has improved you.”
“Leave.”
“No.”
Grace almost laughed.
Michael arrived at ten.
He looked terrible.
“Grace.”
“Sit.”
He did.
Damian remained near the window.
Michael looked at him.
Grace snapped her fingers.
“Me.”
Michael looked back.
“Did you open an account under my foundation?”
“Yes.”
Grace's stomach dropped.
“Why?”
“To protect the money.”
“From whom?”
Michael looked toward Damian.
Grace slammed her palm against the table.
“Stop looking at my husband every time I ask you something.”
Michael flinched.
“From Vanessa.”
Silence.
“What?”
“She was blackmailing me.”
“For what?”
Michael closed his eyes.
“My father.”
Grace frowned.
“Your father died six years ago.”
“He was involved with Brooks Logistics.”
Damian's expression changed.
Michael continued.
“Not legitimate operations.”
Grace looked at Damian.
He said nothing.
Michael swallowed.
“My father helped move money for Damian's father.”
Damian's father, Vincent Brooks.
Dead ten years.
A man Damian rarely discussed.
Michael continued.
“Vanessa found records.”
“So you stole scholarship money?”
“No.”
“Then why the account?”
“I diverted donations temporarily.”
Grace stared.
“That is stealing.”
“I intended to return it.”
“That is what people who steal money always say.”
Michael looked ashamed.
“I panicked.”
“How much?”
“Two million.”
Grace stopped breathing.
Damian moved.
Grace raised one hand.
He stopped.
She appreciated it.
“Where is it?”
Michael looked confused.
“I returned most.”
“Most?”
“Grace—”
“How much is missing?”
“Four hundred thousand.”
She stood.
“Four hundred thousand dollars intended for students is missing?”
“I can repay it.”
“That isn't the point!”
Her voice cracked through the room.
Michael looked down.
Grace had trusted him.
That hurt more than the money.
“Did you pay Vanessa fifty thousand?”
“No.”
“Someone used the secret account.”
“I didn't.”
“Who knew?”
“Vanessa.”
“Anyone else?”
Michael hesitated.
“My accountant.”
“Name.”
“Peter Lang.”
Damian turned toward Nico.
Nico was already calling someone.
Grace looked at Michael.
“Why didn't you stop Vanessa last night?”
He stared at his hands.
“She said if I embarrassed her publicly, she'd release everything about my father.”
“So you let her humiliate me.”
“I froze.”
Grace nodded.
“Thank you.”
He looked up.
“For what?”
“For finally telling the truth.”
Hope appeared.
Then she continued.
“You're removed from the foundation effective immediately.”
His face fell.
“Grace.”
“You will cooperate with an independent audit.”
“Yes.”
“If money is missing because of you, you repay it.”
“Yes.”
“And if you committed a crime, I will not protect you.”
Michael looked toward Damian.
Grace followed his gaze.
“Neither will he.”
Damian nodded.
Michael stood.
“I understand.”
When he left, Grace sat.
Her hands shook.
Damian approached.
“May I?”
She knew what he meant.
She nodded.
He held her.
Grace pressed her face against his chest.
“I trusted him.”
“I know.”
“I hate this.”
“I know.”
“I wanted that foundation to be clean.”
“It can still be.”
She pulled back.
“Don't fix it with your money.”
“I wasn't going to.”
“Really?”
“No.”
She stared suspiciously.
“I was going to suggest forensic auditors.”
Grace smiled weakly.
“You are improving.”
“Apparently.”
Nico returned.
“We found Peter Lang.”
“And?”
“He's dead.”
The room went silent.
“When?” Damian asked.
“Last night.”
Grace felt cold.
“How?”
“Car accident.”
Damian and Nico exchanged a look.
Grace saw it.
“What?”
Damian answered.
“People around my family have historically experienced suspicious car accidents.”
Grace remembered stories about Vincent Brooks.
She swallowed.
“Peter was murdered.”
“Possibly.”
Nico's phone rang again.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“What?”
Pause.
“Send it.”
He ended the call.
“Someone emailed this to Grace's foundation five minutes ago.”
He turned the screen.
A photograph appeared.
Grace sleeping.
Inside Damian's private bedroom.
Taken from less than ten feet away.
Grace stopped breathing.
Damian went completely still.
Below the photograph was one sentence.
YOU SHOULD HAVE KEPT YOUR WIFE SECRET.
Damian's voice became quiet.
“When was this taken?”
Grace stared at the pajamas.
“Three nights ago.”
Silence.
May you like
Someone had been inside their home.
While they slept.
Related Stories
