Chapter 6 - THE FIANCÉE WHO WASN’T THE ENEMY
Vivien was waiting in my study when I returned.
This time the safe was closed.
She stood beside the desk wearing jeans and one of my old sweaters.
No silk.
No performance.
“You know.”
Not a question.
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes.
“Where is Noah?”
“If you don’t know, we have a problem.”
Her face changed.
“You lost him?”
“Mara received a threat.”
Vivien grabbed the edge of the desk.
“No.”
For the first time since I had met her, I saw genuine fear.
“Start talking.”
She did.
Vivien had spent three years trying to find Noah after Elena died.
Victor found him first.
He approached Vivien with photographs proving the boy was alive.
Then he offered a deal.
Marry me.
Gain legal proximity to the succession trust.
Confirm whether Black Crown still existed.
Photograph the trust pages.
Do not steal them.
Do not alert me.
“And the forged clause?”
“I didn’t write it.”
“But you confirmed it was inside my safe.”
“Yes.”
“For Victor.”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“For Marco.”
Everything stopped.
“You’re in contact with him?”
“Not directly.”
“How?”
“A courier.”
“Name.”
“I never knew.”
Vivien believed Marco was still alive and fighting Victor from outside the country.
The blue folder photographs were meant to prove someone had tampered with Black Crown.
“Why not tell me?”
“Because Marco said you were compromised.”
I almost laughed.
“My own brother thinks I work for Victor?”
“He thinks someone close to you does.”
Dominic.
Paolo.
Julian.
Mara.
Any of them.
Maybe all.
Then Vivien removed her engagement ring.
Not dramatically.
Carefully.
“I never planned to take your company.”
She placed it on the desk.
“I planned to get close enough to find out who was hunting Noah.”
“Did you plan to marry me?”
Her eyes filled.
“At first, yes.”
“At first?”
Then she said the one thing I had not prepared for.
“Then I fell in love with you.”
I did not answer.
Love did not clean deception.
But deception did not automatically erase every true thing either.
Before I could respond, Paolo called.
“We found Noah.”
“Where?”
Silence.
“Paolo.”
“At Ravenwood.”
I frowned.
“He came back?”
“No.”
Then Paolo said:
“He never left.”
Security had found a concealed room behind the old wine cellar.
Inside were blankets, food, schoolbooks, and a child’s backpack.
No Noah.
But on the wall someone had drawn the same black crown symbol.
May you like
And beneath it, in a child’s handwriting:
UNCLE MARCO SAYS DON’T TRUST DOMINIC.
