Chapter 4 - BEFORE THE BLACK GOWN
Three weeks before the gala, Julian had refused Mara’s request for a divorce.
They were standing inside the museum’s private dining room.
Rain pressed against the windows.
Mara had placed the papers beside his untouched coffee.
Julian read only the first page.
Then he laughed.
“You cannot divorce me.”
“I already filed.”
“You can file anything.”
He folded the papers in half.
“That does not make it real.”
Mara watched him calmly.
“I am leaving the house tonight.”
“No.”
“It was not a request.”
Julian rose.
He was tall, handsome, and practiced in stillness.
The public saw dignity in the way he carried himself.
Mara had learned to recognize calculation.
“You own twenty-one percent of the voting trust,” he said.
“My father’s trust owns forty-one percent of the land.”
“And I control your access to both.”
“Not after the divorce.”
Julian walked around the table.
“You have been confused lately.”
“I have never been clearer.”
“You forget meetings.”
“You changed the schedule.”
“You accuse board members of crimes.”
“I found forged condition reports.”
“You hear threats where none exist.”
“You threatened me yesterday.”
Julian smiled.
“Can you prove that?”
Mara had been able to prove it.
A recorder was hidden inside her bracelet.
Julian did not know that yet.
He reached for her wrist.
Mara stepped back.
“Do not touch me.”
His expression changed.
The change lasted less than a second.
It was enough.
“You will attend the anniversary gala,” he said.
“No.”
“You will stand beside me.”
“No.”
“You will wear the black gown Beatrice selected.”
Mara almost smiled.
“Beatrice chooses my clothes now?”
“Beatrice understands presentation.”
“Beatrice understands replacing me.”
Julian’s eyes hardened.
“You should be careful.”
“Why?”
“Because people already believe you are unstable.”
Mara looked toward the security camera above the door.
The red indicator light was off.
Julian had disabled it.
He thought that meant the room belonged to him.
He did not know Mara had installed a second recorder beneath the table.
“What happens if I refuse the gala?” she asked.
Julian leaned close.
“We reopen the investigation into the Saint Aurelia panel.”
The panel had vanished from museum storage eight months earlier.
Mara’s access card had been used after midnight.
Her digital signature appeared on the transfer form.
She had never touched the painting.
Julian had created enough evidence to make innocence look irrational.
“You framed me,” she said.
“I protected the museum.”
“You stole the painting.”
“Those words could destroy what remains of your name.”
“My name survived my father’s death.”
“Your father’s name is the reason you are still useful.”
Mara felt anger move through her.
She did not allow it into her voice.
“You should let me go.”
Julian touched the edge of her hair.
“You are not a prisoner.”
“Then open the door.”
He looked toward the locked dining room entrance.
Mara had not noticed him turn the key.
Julian slipped it from his pocket and placed it on the table.
“You are free to walk out.”
Mara reached for it.
He closed his hand over hers.
“But if you leave me, I will make certain every museum in the world believes you stole from your own father.”
His fingers tightened.
“I will make your father’s legacy a joke.”
Mara looked directly into his eyes.
That was the moment Julian lost.
Not at the gala.
Not beside the champagne trolley.
Not when the recordings played.
He lost in the private dining room because he believed fear had made Mara obedient.
He released her hand.
“Wear the black gown.”
Mara picked up the key.
“I will.”
Julian smiled.
He thought he had won.
Mara walked out of the room and called Nora.
“Accept Beatrice’s gown,” she said.
Nora sounded confused.
“Why?”
“Because Julian wants everyone watching me.”
Mara looked back through the glass.
Julian was tearing the divorce papers into narrow strips.
May you like
“Let them watch.”
That evening, Mara began planning the eleven minutes that would destroy him.
