Chapter 8 - THE PRICE OF A WIFE
Silas stood before the television as a reporter discussed the reward.
FIVE MILLION DOLLARS FOR INFORMATION ABOUT MISSING SOCIALITE.
Below the headline was Carmela's photograph.
She was smiling.
He remembered the day it was taken.
A charity gala.
He had complained that her dress was too plain.
She had changed before they left.
The photograph showed the second dress.
He wondered how many other small humiliations she had swallowed without complaint.
Tommy entered.
“The police arrested Khloe's brother.”
Silas turned.
“Derek?”
Tommy nodded.
“Financial crimes. They're also questioning him about the fire.”
“Did he say anything about Carmela?”
“No.”
Silas looked away.
For weeks, he had imagined the worst.
He pictured Carmela trapped somewhere.
Frightened.
Hurt.
Calling for him.
But another possibility had begun to haunt him.
What if she was alive?
What if she had chosen not to come home?
He opened her notebook again.
The page was creased from repeated reading.
Maybe the problem isn't my body.
Maybe it's that he never intended to love me.
Silas sat down.
He had mocked her appearance.
Not always directly.
Sometimes with jokes.
Sometimes by remaining silent when Khloe laughed.
Sometimes by praising other women in front of her.
He had told himself Carmela was too sensitive.
That she should understand his world.
That she should be grateful for the life he provided.
Now he understood that money had become his excuse for cruelty.
He called his attorney.
“I want to review the marriage agreements.”
“Why?”
“Because Carmela deserves independent representation if she returns.”
The attorney hesitated.
“Are you considering divorce?”
Silas stared at the photograph.
“I think she already is.”
That evening, he went to the Costello cemetery.
Vincent had been buried in a private ceremony.
Silas stood before the grave.
He had never liked the old man.
Vincent had been controlling.
Proud.
Suspicious.
But he had loved Carmela in his imperfect way.
Silas looked at the headstone.
“I used her.”
The words sounded strange in the empty cemetery.
“I married her for business.”
He swallowed.
“And then I punished her for believing it was love.”
Rain began falling.
He did not move.
“I don't know whether she's alive.”
His voice broke.
“But if she is, I hope she's somewhere nobody makes her feel small.”
He stood there until the cemetery gates were closing.
Then he returned home.
For the first time, he removed the large wedding photograph from the study wall.
Not because he wanted to forget Carmela.
May you like
Because he finally understood that the woman in the photograph had been pretending to be happy.
And he had been too selfish to notice.
