Chapter 2 - The Scent of Lavender and Ash
The guest cottage sat on a small hill overlooking the private lake of the Blake estate, surrounded by weeping willows that shivered in the autumn wind. It was a beautiful, isolated place, but to Vanessa, it felt like a prison.
She paced the length of the hardwood floor, her red silk blouse damp with sweat. She had tried to call her brother, Julian, but her phone had no reception. Adriano had jammed the local cellular tower on his property the moment he ordered her isolation.
"Damn him," she hissed, kicking a velvet armchair. "Damn Clara and her lawyers."
She had spent two years planning this. She had met Adriano at a charity gala in Boston, pretending to be a wealthy heiress from a distinguished European family, when in reality, she was the daughter of a bankrupt dock worker from South Jersey. She had studied him, learned his tastes, and wormed her way into his heart by pretending to love his grieving children.
But the children had been her undoing. They were too smart. They remembered their mother too well. Every time she tried to gently suggest sending them away to Switzerland, they resisted. And then, two months ago, that letter had arrived.
She had intercepted the mail, intending to burn it in the fireplace. But Helena had walked in, catching her with the letter in her hand. In her haste to hide the evidence, Vanessa had only managed to burn the edges before shoving it into a drawer.
The door to the cottage creaked open.
Adriano walked in, his charcoal suit jacket removed, his shirt sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. He carried a heavy leather folder under his arm.
"You look tired, Vanessa," he said, sitting down at the small dining table.
"You are keeping me hostage, Adriano," she said, her voice trembling with rage. "This is kidnapping. I will sue you for everything you have."
"With what money?" Adriano asked, opening the folder. "I’ve spent the last four hours on the phone with my legal team in Singapore and New York. We’ve been looking into your 'family estate' in Munich. It doesn't exist, Vanessa. The accounts you used to pay for your wedding dress were funded by a dummy corporation registered in the Cayman Islands. A corporation owned by Julian Sterling."
Vanessa froze. The name of the New York mob boss fell like a lead weight between them.
"You were a plant," Adriano said, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "Julian wanted my shipping terminals in Jersey. He couldn't buy them, so he sent you to marry me, expecting you to convince me to send my heirs away so you could take control of the estate."
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"That’s not true," she whispered, her face losing all color. "I love you, Adriano."
"If you loved me," Adriano said, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous rumble, "you wouldn't have kept a wooden ruler in your hand while my children trembled in the hallway."
