Chapter 2 - The Bullet and the Flash
The studio shattered into deafening chaos before the echo of Nora’s shout had even bounced off the high tin ceiling.
A high-velocity round punched through the double-paned window, sending a spray of diamond-sharp glass across the polished mahogany floor. The slug tore straight through the ivory backdrop, missing Dominic’s temple by less than two inches and embedding itself into the exposed brick wall with a sickening thud.
Elise screamed—a primal, raw shriek of sheer terror—and fell to her knees, curling her body desperately over her pregnant belly.
""Molly! Hit the fire alarm and lock the back stairwell!"" Nora yelled over her shoulder, her instincts overriding the volcanic wave of betrayal still churning in her gut. She lunged forward, grabbing Elise by the silk shoulders of the maternity gown and dragging her behind the heavy cast-iron radiator beneath the solid wall. ""Stay down! Don't move your head!""
Dominic had already dropped flat, his expensive suit gathering white plaster dust. The hesitation that had paralyzed him during the photoshoot was gone, replaced instantly by the terrifying, lethal instincts Nora had only ever caught glimpses of during late-night phone calls in his home office. He reached inside his charcoal jacket, pulling a compact, matte-black Glock from a concealed holster beneath his armpit.
""Dominic!"" Nora hissed, staring at the firearm. ""What the hell is this? Who are those people?""
""They tracked me through her prenatal clinic,"" Dominic growled, crawling toward the window sill, keeping his head well below the shattered frame. ""Nora, you have to get out of here. Take Elise through the freight elevator in the back. Now!""
""You lied to me,"" Elise sobbed from the floor, hyperventilating, her fingernails digging into Nora’s forearm so hard they drew blood. ""Dom, you said you were in commercial real estate! You said your former partners were just suing you! Who is shooting at us? Who is this woman?""
""I am his wife of eleven years, Elise,"" Nora snapped, her voice cutting through the panic like an ice pick. She unhooked her camera strap from her neck, clutching the Nikon tightly against her chest. ""And if you want your unborn baby to live to see tomorrow morning, you need to shut your mouth, stop crying, and crawl behind me.""
Elise looked as though she had been struck across the face. The revelation of the marriage hit her with sickening force, but another crack of rifle fire—taking out the studio’s overhead halogen track lighting in a shower of sparks—erased any room for an emotional breakdown.
Dominic peeked over the sill, fired three rapid, deafening shots into the alleyway below, and ducked back down as return fire tore through the vintage furniture.
""Nora!"" Dominic yelled, turning his desperate eyes to her. ""I never meant for this to touch you. I swear on my life, I was ending it. I was getting her out of the country tonight!""
""Save your pathetic lies for your divorce lawyer, Dominic,"" Nora said coldly, grabbing Elise’s arm and hauling the terrified pregnant woman toward the reinforced metal door of the freight elevator. ""Assuming you survive the next ten minutes.""
They reached the heavy steel cage of the industrial elevator just as Molly, white-faced and shaking, scrambled inside. Nora shoved Elise in after her.
""Take her down to the basement, Molly,"" Nora commanded. ""Cut through the adjoining bakery cellar and get onto Newbury Street. Call the police from a public payphone or a shop. Do not use your cell phone.""
""Nora, come with us!"" Molly begged, holding the gate open.
""My car keys and the external memory drives are in the office,"" Nora said, her voice steely. ""The camera has the shooter’s face in the mirror reflection. It's the only proof we have.""
""Nora, no!"" Dominic yelled from the studio floor, but Nora had already slammed the freight gate shut, hitting the down switch.
She turned on her heel and darted low toward the editing suite. She didn't care about Dominic Vale’s empire, his fortune, or his endless catalog of excuses. But she was a photographer, and her camera had just caught the truth. As she slid behind her oak desk, her fingers flew over the playback dial of the camera, zooming into the corner of the final frame she had captured.
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The sniper in the mirror wasn't a stranger.
Standing in the alleyway with a suppressed rifle was Julian Vance—Dominic’s billionaire business partner, the godfather of their nonexistent children, and the man who had stood as the best man at Nora and Dominic’s wedding eleven years ago.
