Chapter 5 - THE COMPANY THEY NEEDED US TO BUY
Hartwell paused the Apex vote.
Not because I demanded it.
Because the independent committee found enough inconsistencies to justify review.
Revenue recognition.
Customer concentration.
Unusual year-end contracts.
Nothing proven yet.
Enough to slow down.
Vincent panicked.
His lenders did not.
They simply sent notices.
If Apex’s valuation collapsed, several loan covenants connected to Vincent’s pledged shares could trigger.
That was why he needed Hartwell’s acquisition.
Not family prestige.
Survival.
Luca called Rachel.
He wanted to “resolve the marital misunderstanding.”
Rachel laughed after hanging up.
“What did he offer?”
“Apology.”
“That’s expensive?”
“And an annulment if you sign confidentiality.”
I stared.
“How generous.”
The proposed agreement required me to waive claims arising from the reception and agree not to cooperate with any investigation into Moretti Capital.
There.
Not marriage.
Corporate protection.
I rejected it.
Then Luca arrived at the hotel.
Security stopped him.
He shouted from the lobby.
“Jessi!”
I did not go downstairs.
Then:
“You’re making this bigger than it is!”
That phrase followed abusive people everywhere.
Bigger than it is.
As if the problem were scale.
Not behavior.
Then he said:
“My father will lose everything!”
Phoebe looked at me.
I looked back.
Neither of us moved.
Later, Marco delivered internal emails.
Vincent to Luca:
Marriage closes Friday.
Proxy verification Monday.
Hartwell committee Tuesday.
We need alignment before board review.
Luca:
She’s been difficult about voting.
Vincent:
Then make sure she understands what marriage changes.
My throat tightened.
Then Luca wrote:
She responds when she’s embarrassed. She hates scenes.
That sentence hurt more than expected.
He knew exactly why public humiliation worked on me.
Because I hated conflict.
Because I froze when people watched.
Because I had spent eighteen months trying to keep his temper private.
Then Vincent replied:
Good. Use that.
I closed the email.
The cake incident suddenly looked less spontaneous.
Did Vincent order it?
No proof.
Did Luca intend to humiliate me into compliance?
Possibly.
Then Phoebe remembered something.
“Jessi.”
“What?”
“Before the cake, Wendy asked where your phone was.”
My stomach tightened.
I had left it at the bridal table.
Phoebe checked photographs.
In one image, Wendy stood behind my chair.
Her hand near my clutch.
Then another photograph showed Daniel Kress—Vincent’s assistant—walking away from the same table.
My phone had contained the authentication app used for Hartwell shareholder verification.
And when we checked the activity log, someone had opened that app during the reception.
May you like
At exactly 8:12 p.m.
Three minutes before Luca shoved my face into the cake.
