Chapter 4 - The Woman in the Gold Cover-Up
Serena Bell called at 7:12 the next morning.
Mara almost ignored her. She was in the kitchen, trying to convince Owen that toast did not need to be cut into the shape of a dinosaur, when Serena’s name appeared on the screen.
“Hello?”
“I know you may not want to hear from me.”
“That’s accurate.”
“I’m not calling to defend Grant.”
Owen held up a square of bread. “This one looks like a house.”
“That’s very good,” Mara told him, then returned to the phone. “Why are you calling?”
Serena exhaled. “Because I think he used me as part of the story.”
Mara leaned against the counter.
“What story?”
“The one where I’m the effortless young wife and you’re the exhausted wife who stopped trying.”
The bluntness startled Mara.
Serena continued. “I heard things yesterday. Not everything, but enough. And I owe you the truth about what I know.”
They met at a coffee shop near Mara’s office. Serena arrived without makeup, wearing jeans and a faded university sweatshirt. Without the gold cover-up and styled hair, she looked younger, but not less beautiful. She looked tired.
“I’m a freelance wardrobe stylist,” Serena said after they sat. “The clothes Grant complimented were borrowed from a client’s showroom. The car Caleb thinks I own is leased by the production company where I work.”
Mara stirred her coffee. “Why tell me?”
“Because he kept saying I was proof that women could have children, marriage, and ambition without looking exhausted. He said it like he was talking about you, but he was really talking about his own shame.”
Mara looked up.
Serena’s mouth tightened. “He told Caleb you were bitter because I was younger. He told me you were angry because your career was slipping. I believed him for about a week.”
“And then?”
“Then I watched you carry Poppy through a whole dinner while Grant explained to everyone how difficult it was to be a stay-at-home father.”
“He wasn’t a stay-at-home father.”
“I know.”
Serena reached into her bag and placed a small notebook on the table.
“This is not the whole thing. It’s notes from a conversation Grant had with me in May.”
Mara opened the notebook. Serena’s handwriting filled three pages. Grant had asked Serena to tell Caleb that Northline had a major client. He had asked her to confirm that Mara knew about “the temporary loan.” He had told Serena that if Caleb asked about the company, she should say Mara was involved in the brand strategy.
Mara felt her stomach tighten.
“Why did he ask you?”
“Because Caleb doesn’t trust me yet.”
“Does he trust you now?”
“That depends on what he’s been told.”
Serena looked through the window at a woman pushing a stroller.
“I’m not your rival, Mara. I never wanted to be. I was trying to survive being introduced as the decorative upgrade to your life.”
Mara closed the notebook. “You could have said something.”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“At the dinner in May. I told Grant he was being cruel. He said you had given up on yourself and that he was trying to keep the marriage alive.”
The words hurt because some part of Mara had feared they were true.
Serena noticed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for his opinion.”
“I’m apologizing for believing it long enough to stay quiet.”
Mara studied her. The woman she had dismissed as a threat had been carrying her own humiliations beneath a bright surface.
Serena’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it and turned the screen down.
“Is that Caleb?” Mara asked.
“No. My therapist.”
Mara’s expression softened before she could stop it.
Serena gave a small, embarrassed laugh. “I had a panic attack in a fitting room last month. I thought I was going to faint between two racks of evening gowns. I’ve been telling everyone I’m thrilled about everything.”
“Are you?”
“About Caleb? Yes. About pretending I’m fine? No.”
They sat in silence. Outside, a delivery truck rattled over a pothole.
“What do you know about Grant’s job?” Mara asked.
Serena’s face became serious. “He said his termination involved a payment to a vendor called Blue Harbor.”
“Northline?”
“I don’t know. But he was afraid of someone named Nolan.”
“Nolan who?”
“He never said.”
Serena took the notebook back. “There is one more thing. The night before your party, Grant asked me to record a video message congratulating him on his business launch. He said he needed it for investors.”
“Did you record it?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have it?”
“I sent it to him. But I still have the raw file.”
“Why would that matter?”
Serena looked directly at her. “Because before I started, I heard him arguing with someone in the garage. The recording picked up the first few seconds.”
She played the clip.
Grant’s voice came through, low and strained. “If you report this, they’ll know I used the account.”
Another man answered, “You already used it. The question is whether you want to be the only one punished.”
The clip ended.
Mara felt the coffee cool beneath her hands.
“I thought the other man was Nolan,” Serena said. “But I don’t know.”
Mara saved the file to her phone.
“Thank you,” she said.
Serena nodded. “I don’t expect you to forgive me.”
“I don’t know you well enough to forgive you.”
“That’s fair.”
Mara stood. “But I believe you.”
Serena looked relieved, then frightened by the relief.
As Mara left, Serena called after her.
“Mara?”
May you like
She turned.
“Grant is not the only person who lied. Caleb knows more than he says.”
