Chapter 134

Marissa’s knee injury meant Dominick drove her and Grayson to Vanderbilt Manor. He’d planned to work late, but rarely did. Back in his old room—once their marital home, now rarely visited since the divorce—he felt a strange mix of familiarity and distance. His gaze fell on a family photo: Paisley, holding baby Grayson, Dominick's hand resting gently on Paisley’s shoulder. Their smiles were genuine, a stark contrast to the present. He wondered, When did it change? Who changed? He loved Paisley; he was sure of that. The divorce remained a mystery.

A knock. He opened the door to Marissa, holding a plate of pastries. "Dom, you barely ate dinner. I worried about your stomach," she said, her burgundy slip dress and carefully applied makeup striking under the dim light.

He accepted the plate, not wanting to refuse her kindness, but he also didn't want her to stay. "I'll eat it later. You should rest," he said, his tone firm.

Hope flickered in her eyes, but he remained at the door, his expression unchanging. "It's late. I need to sleep," he said flatly.

Marissa, reluctant but resigned, nodded. "Good night."

"Wait," Dominick called out. Her eyes lit up. He handed her a cardigan. "Wear this. Don't catch cold."

Her hope deflated. "Good night, Dom."

"Good night," he replied, closing the door. Only then did Marissa see him clutching a photo of him, Paisley, and Grayson behind the door. What if Paisley forgave everything and took my advice, remarrying Dominick? the thought struck her, a sudden flash of anger replacing all else. No! Absolutely not! she raged. Years of waiting… I won’t let her take what's mine!

All rationality vanished. She raced to her room, dialing Jeremy Prescott. "Come tomorrow. I need to talk." A chilling whisper followed in her heart: I want Paisley dead.