Chapter 5 - THE WOMAN DOMINIC NEVER ESCAPED
Elena Caruso had been dead before I married Dominic.
I knew her only through photographs.
Elegant.
Severe.
Beautiful in a way that made every room around her look expensive.
Dominic rarely spoke about her.
When he did, the sentences were short.
“She built the creative side with my father.”
“She was demanding.”
“She died too young.”
Now I stood in a hallway holding divorce papers prepared two years earlier because of her.
“What happened?”
Dominic leaned against the wall.
“My mother founded Caruso Bridal.”
I nodded.
“I know.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“She actually founded it.”
I frowned.
“The company says your father did.”
“The company says many things.”
Elena had designed the first collections herself.
Dominic’s father handled sales and manufacturing.
When the company expanded, her ownership disappeared into family holding structures.
“She spent years fighting him for control.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
Dominic’s eyes moved toward my face.
“You reminded me of her.”
I almost laughed.
“That is an unbelievably bad thing to say to your wife.”
“I know.”
He continued.
“When you asked to work at Caruso, I panicked.”
“Why?”
“Because my mother and father destroyed each other fighting inside the same company.”
“So you decided I shouldn’t have a career.”
“I told myself I was protecting our marriage.”
“But?”
“I was protecting myself.”
Again, the truth.
Too late.
He explained that Elena’s final will contained a provision.
If Dominic’s spouse became an active designer in Caruso Bridal, certain dormant voting shares would transfer into a creative trust.
“How many?”
“Fifteen percent.”
I stared.
“For me?”
“For the qualifying spouse.”
My pulse changed.
“So if I had joined Caruso as a designer—”
“You could have controlled fifteen percent.”
“And you knew.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Before our wedding.”
The hallway seemed to shift.
Every conversation.
Every “soon.”
Every time Dominic told me Eli needed stability.
Every time he said the company was too political.
He had never merely discouraged my career.
He had prevented me from triggering ownership.
“Did your father tell you to?”
“No.”
“Vanessa?”
“No.”
“Then this was you.”
“Yes.”
That hurt more than if someone had manipulated him.
He chose it.
I handed the divorce papers back.
“You almost left me because?”
“Two years ago, you started designing again.”
I remembered.
A small online class.
Late-night sketches.
A local designer asking to see my portfolio.
Dominic became distant.
Then suddenly attentive.
Trips.
Jewelry.
A surprise vacation.
I thought he was supporting me.
He was redirecting me.
“You considered divorce before I could qualify for the shares.”
“Yes.”
I stepped back.
“You were willing to end our marriage to keep control.”
He looked wrecked.
“For about two days.”
“That is not comforting.”
“I didn’t file.”
“Because you loved me?”
“Yes.”
“Or because divorcing me would look bad?”
His silence lasted one second too long.
I smiled sadly.
“Thank you.”
“Nora.”
“No. I needed that.”
He stared.
Then I asked:
“Does Vanessa know about Elena’s clause?”
His face changed.
“I don’t know.”
My phone buzzed.
Julian Mercer.
I opened the message.
Vanessa knows.
Another.
That is why she used your designs instead of creating her own.
I frowned.
Why?
Julian replied:
Because the clause does not require the spouse to be formally employed.
It requires substantial creative contribution to Caruso Bridal.
My heart stopped.
Dominic read over my shoulder.
His face drained.
If eleven of my designs had been used in Caruso collections, then I may have already satisfied Elena’s condition.
Which meant I might already own fifteen percent of the company.
Then Julian sent the final message.
May you like
Vanessa found the clause last year.
She has been altering design records to make sure Nora can never prove contribution.
