Chapter 3 - The Secret Vittorio Left Behind
The news moved through Bellamere before noon.
Damian Vescari was getting married.
By evening, everyone knew the bride.
That was when the jokes began.
Serena heard none of them directly.
People were careful around Vittorio Marchetti's estate, even after his death.
But servants stopped talking when she entered rooms.
Women who had ignored her for years suddenly examined her from head to toe.
Men glanced at Damian and then at Serena as though trying to understand a business decision they had not been invited to negotiate.
Lucian was less discreet.
At dinner three nights after the reading of the will, he lifted his wineglass.
"To unexpected romance."
Damian kept eating.
Serena did the same.
Lucian smiled.
"Come on. Surely we can enjoy the absurdity."
Damian put down his fork.
"The absurdity of what?"
Lucian looked toward Serena.
She wore a loose cream sweater, dark skirt, and the same black glasses she had worn since college.
"Nothing."
"Finish your sentence."
The room quieted.
Lucian's smile faded slightly.
"I was only saying that Uncle had an unusual sense of matchmaking."
"Then say that."
Damian's tone remained calm.
"Don't make Serena the joke."
Serena glanced at him.
Damian did not look back.
The dinner resumed.
But something had changed.
Lucian noticed it too.
Later that night, Serena found Damian in Vittorio's study.
He stood at the window overlooking the gardens.
"You didn't have to do that," she said.
"Do what?"
"Defend me."
He looked over his shoulder.
"He was disrespectful."
"I'm accustomed to it."
"That's not an argument for allowing it."
Serena had no response.
Damian turned back toward the window.
"Did you find anything?"
She closed the door.
"Yes."
That got his attention.
She placed a folder on Vittorio's desk.
"Your authorization wasn't forged once."
Damian opened it.
There were twelve transactions.
All approved using his credentials.
"I wasn't in the country for three of these."
"I know."
"Can we prove it?"
"Yes."
"Then whoever did this was careless."
"No."
Serena shook her head.
"They were confident."
Damian looked at her.
"In what?"
"That nobody would investigate before you took control."
She pointed at the dates.
"If the marriage condition hadn't existed, you would have inherited immediately. These transactions would have become your legal responsibility."
Damian slowly sat down.
"Meaning the marriage delays something."
"Or forces something."
"Vittorio knew."
"I think so."
"Why not tell me directly?"
Serena looked toward the locked cabinet behind the desk.
"Maybe he couldn't."
Damian followed her gaze.
They had searched the obvious drawers.
Not the cabinet.
It required a key.
Neither had found one.
"Can you open it?"
Serena looked insulted.
"I'm an accountant, not a burglar."
Damian called one.
Twenty minutes later, the estate's security specialist opened the cabinet.
Inside were ordinary documents.
Insurance policies.
Property deeds.
Old correspondence.
Nothing urgent.
Then Serena noticed a false bottom.
Beneath it was a small black notebook.
No title.
No names.
Only dates, numbers, and initials.
Damian flipped through it.
"Do these mean anything to you?"
"Not yet."
At the final page was one sentence in Vittorio's handwriting.
Trust the girl who notices what others ignore.
Damian stared.
Serena went very still.
Neither spoke.
Then Damian closed the notebook.
"He knew."
"Knew what?"
"That we'd be sitting here together."
Serena looked uncomfortable.
"He knew me better than most people did."
Damian caught the sadness beneath the sentence.
"You miss him."
"He gave me a home."
"He gave you a room in a house."
Serena's eyes hardened.
"You don't get to define it."
Damian regretted the sentence immediately.
That was unusual.
"I didn't mean—"
"I know what you meant."
She gathered the papers.
"When do you want the wedding?"
The change of subject was deliberate.
Damian let her have it.
"Next week."
Serena looked up sharply.
"That soon?"
"Every day we wait gives Lucian time."
"To do what?"
"I don't know."
"That's reassuring."
Damian almost smiled.
"Thursday."
"That's six days."
"Exactly."
Serena took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
Without them, Damian saw her differently.
Not because she suddenly became another person.
Because he realized how often the glasses had allowed people to stop looking.
Her features were delicate.
Her eyes striking.
But what captured his attention was exhaustion.
"You haven't been sleeping."
Serena replaced her glasses.
"Neither have you."
"I wasn't asking about me."
"No. You rarely do."
Damian leaned back.
"Was that criticism?"
"Observation."
"There's a difference?"
"Usually."
He stared at her.
She collected the folder.
"Thursday is fine."
"Serena."
She paused at the door.
"About earlier."
"What about it?"
"I shouldn't have said Vittorio only gave you a room."
Her expression softened by a fraction.
"No. You shouldn't have."
Then she left.
For some reason, that bothered Damian more than an argument would have.
The wedding was planned in six days.
No interviews.
No public reception.
Only family, business associates, and selected guests.
That did not stop Bellamere society from treating it like the event of the year.
The rumors became crueler.
Damian had been forced into it.
Serena had manipulated Vittorio.
Serena was pregnant.
Serena had threatened to expose the family.
One gossip column described her as "the mysterious plain ward of the late Vittorio Marchetti."
Damian had the article removed before breakfast.
Serena never mentioned it.
On Wednesday evening, Damian found her standing alone in the chapel where the ceremony would take place.
She wore jeans and an old sweater.
The altar was surrounded by white flowers.
"You hate them," Damian said.
Serena glanced at the roses.
"They're beautiful."
"You looked angry."
"I was thinking."
"About escaping?"
"Briefly."
He leaned against a pew.
"Still time."
"If I leave, Lucian gets control."
"Yes."
"And someone who is stealing millions gains access to everything."
"Probably."
She sighed.
"Then there isn't time."
Damian watched her.
"You're doing this for the empire."
"I'm doing it because Vittorio believed it mattered."
"That's not the same thing."
"No."
He walked closer.
"Why did he trust you?"
Serena looked toward the stained glass.
"Because I caught him lying."
Damian blinked.
"What?"
"I was sixteen."
Her mouth curved faintly.
"He told everyone a vineyard investment was profitable. I had been practicing bookkeeping with old company reports. The numbers didn't match."
"You confronted him?"
"I asked him why he was pretending."
Damian laughed.
It escaped before he could stop it.
Serena looked surprised.
"What did he do?"
"He stared at me for five minutes."
"And then?"
"He gave me the real books."
Damian shook his head.
"That sounds like him."
"He said numbers were less dangerous than people because numbers only lied when people made them."
Damian looked toward the altar.
"And he trusted you ever since."
"With numbers."
"Maybe with more."
Serena didn't answer.
The next morning, she stood at the entrance of the cathedral in a simple ivory gown.
No elaborate veil.
No diamonds.
No extravagant makeup.
Her dark hair was loosely pinned back.
Her glasses remained.
A bridesmaid offered to remove them for the photographs.
Serena declined.
Damian waited at the altar.
When he turned and saw her, his expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Serena noticed.
So did Lucian.
Damian had expected awkwardness.
Instead Serena looked exactly like herself.
And somehow that unsettled him more.
She walked down the aisle alone.
When she reached him, Damian held out his hand.
Her fingers trembled once before settling into his.
"Too late to run," he murmured.
Serena looked at him.
"You first."
The priest began.
They exchanged vows neither had written.
Simple words.
Legal words.
Necessary words.
Yet when Damian slid the ring onto Serena's finger, the cathedral felt strangely quiet.
Then he noticed Lucian.
Sitting near the front.
Not smiling anymore.
The ceremony ended.
Damian and Serena turned toward the aisle.
Whispers began.
They walked slowly together, hands joined.
Serena held a small bouquet in her other hand.
Damian scanned the crowd.
He noticed curiosity.
Judgment.
Resentment.
Then he realized Serena was scanning too.
"You're watching them," he murmured.
She kept her eyes lowered.
"I'm watching who isn't happy."
Damian glanced at her.
"And?"
"Three of them expected you to refuse."
His steps slowed.
"Who?"
"Don't look yet."
Naturally, he wanted to.
Serena's fingers tightened around his.
"Lucian. Arturo Bellini. And Conrad Hale."
Damian knew all three.
Lucian was obvious.
Bellini controlled several shipping contracts.
Hale handled external financial audits.
"How do you know?"
"Because everyone else looked surprised when we said the vows."
"And them?"
"They looked disappointed."
Damian stopped for half a second.
Serena looked up.
Behind them, guests shifted.
Ahead, the cathedral doors stood open beneath bright afternoon sunlight.
"How much can you really tell from a face?" Damian asked.
"Not enough to convict anyone."
"Then why mention it?"
"Because your uncle wasn't protecting the empire from you."
Her voice was barely audible.
"He was protecting you from them."
Damian resumed walking.
Lucian's smile vanished as Serena glanced toward him.
That look lasted less than a second.
But Damian saw it.
So did Serena.
Outside the cathedral, cameras waited behind security barriers.
Damian guided Serena toward the car.
As he opened the door, Serena stopped.
"What?"
She stared at the windshield.
A small white envelope rested beneath the wiper.
Security immediately moved forward.
Damian took the envelope himself.
Inside was a photograph.
Vittorio, three weeks before his death.
He was standing beside Serena outside a bank.
On the back were five words.
SHE KNOWS WHERE IT IS.
Damian looked at Serena.
Her face drained of color.
"Where what is?"
She shook her head.
"I don't know."
May you like
Damian believed she was afraid.
For the first time since they had met in the library, he also believed she was lying.
