Chapter 2 - The Setup Deepens
Upstairs in the living room, Patricia quickly recovered her composure, smoothing down the front of her designer blouse with a sharp, dismissive jerk. The panic on her face vanished, replaced by that familiar, saccharine mask of manufactured innocence she wore whenever I walked into a room.
“You’re delusional, Rosa,” Patricia said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness meant to mimic a concerned stepmother. “And quite frankly, your insolence is precisely why Julian is re-evaluating your position here. Now, take the children upstairs. I want the living room immaculate before he calls.”
Rosa didn't move immediately. She looked down at Daniela and Martina, her eyes softening with fierce, protective warmth. “Come on, girls. Let's go to the kitchen.”
Daniela grabbed Martina’s hand, casting one last terrified glance at Patricia before hurrying out of the room. Rosa followed them, keeping herself between the girls and Patricia until they were safely out of sight.
On the monitor, Patricia walked over to the mahogany coffee table, picked up her smartphone, and immediately dialed a number.
Marcus tapped a few keys on the console, routing the audio directly into our headphones.
“Pick up, pick up,” Patricia muttered under her breath, pacing across the expensive Persian rug.
A voice answered on the other end—a man’s voice, rough and hurried. “Yeah? What’s going on? Is the coast clear?”
“Not entirely,” Patricia hissed, lowering her voice. “The old housekeeper, Rosa... she’s getting suspicious. She knows something is off. And I think Julian is starting to ask questions about the trust fund access we discussed.”
My breath caught in my throat. Trust fund access?
The man on the other end let out a coarse curse. “I told you we should have cleaned out the secondary accounts months ago before you moved into that mansion. If Julian finds out about the offshore transfers—or the proxy signatures on the corporate holdings—we’re both finished.”
“Relax,” Patricia snapped, though her hands were shaking. “Julian is completely wrapped around my finger. Once we finalize the marriage next month, I’ll have full legal power of attorney over his domestic assets. We just need to accelerate the timeline. Get rid of Rosa permanently, push the girls into boarding school as we planned, and force him to sign the asset restructuring papers while he’s distracted.”
“And if he doesn't sign?” the man asked.
Patricia smiled—a terrifying, predatory smirk that made my stomach churn. “Then we make sure he never gets the chance to look at the books.”
In the basement, Marcus looked over at me, his expression grim. “Mr. Vance... that voice. That’s Richard Croft. Patricia’s ‘brother’—the one whose massive gambling debts you bailed out twice last year before you realized he was a professional con artist.”
The pieces clicked into place with terrifying speed. Patricia wasn't just a toxic, manipulative fiancée; she was an operative in a calculated financial execution designed to strip my company, my estate, and my daughters' inheritance clean, leaving me legally incapacitated or ruined.
“She thinks she has complete control,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
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“What’s our next play, sir?” Marcus asked, his fingers poised over the keyboard.
“She wants to accelerate the timeline?” I stood up straightening my jacket, my eyes locked on the monitor where Patricia was still pacing and plotting her next move. “Let’s give her exactly what she wants. Call the local magistrate, notify the financial crimes unit, and have the private security detail lock down every perimeter gate on the estate. Nobody leaves this property today without my explicit permission.”
