Chapter 3 - The Marriage Agreement
Emergency lights flooded the ballroom.
Guests began murmuring.
Security moved quickly.
Vivian ran toward the stage.
“Dad!”
Victor was gone.
Again.
She reached the microphone.
Empty.
A service door behind the curtain swung slowly.
Edmund appeared beside her.
“Marcus!”
“Already moving.”
Vivian shoved the phone toward Edmund.
He read the message.
His eyes hardened.
“Trace it.”
Marcus photographed the screen and disappeared through the service door.
Vivian turned on Edmund.
“No more secrets.”
“I agree.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me about the agreement.”
“I don’t know about an agreement.”
“Your father apparently did.”
“And your mother.”
Vivian hated that he was right.
They left the ballroom under security escort.
This time there would be no pretending.
Guests were informed of a building-wide electrical malfunction.
Vivian suspected nobody believed it.
In a private bridal suite, Edmund locked the door.
Rebecca Vale was already inside.
Vivian stopped.
“How did you get here?”
Rebecca sat calmly beside the window.
“I know Saint Aurelia better than its current owners.”
“Start talking.”
Rebecca studied Vivian.
“You sound exactly like Elena.”
“Start.”
Rebecca sighed.
“Twenty-two years ago, Costa Shipping and Moretti Maritime were not enemies.”
Edmund leaned against the desk.
“Our fathers were partners?”
“More than partners. They were building a merger.”
Vivian stared.
“That makes no sense.”
“It does if you understand what they discovered.”
Rebecca opened an old leather folder.
Inside were financial records.
Shipping manifests.
Insurance certificates.
“Someone had been stealing from both companies,” she said.
“Who?”
“That was the problem. They never proved it.”
Rebecca explained.
Cargo disappeared.
Insurance claims were falsified.
Money moved through shell companies.
Victor suspected someone inside Moretti Maritime.
Lorenzo suspected someone inside Costa Shipping.
Instead of accusing each other, they investigated together.
Elena helped.
“My mother?”
“She was an accountant before she married Victor.”
Vivian knew that.
She had simply never understood how important it was.
“Elena found the pattern,” Rebecca continued. “Every fraudulent transaction contained the same internal code.”
She wrote three numbers.
Vivian looked at the key.
“So 417 wasn’t a warehouse.”
“It became one later. Lorenzo deliberately named the archive facility Warehouse 417 because he wanted the evidence hidden in plain sight.”
Edmund straightened.
“What evidence?”
“The original ledger.”
Rebecca looked at both of them.
“It contained every transaction.”
“Who has it?” Vivian asked.
“Nobody knows.”
“Convenient.”
“Your mother hid it.”
Vivian went still.
Rebecca continued.
“Elena believed someone close to both families was responsible. Someone who could access both companies. Someone who could manipulate Victor and Lorenzo into becoming enemies.”
“And they succeeded,” Edmund said.
Rebecca nodded.
“After Lorenzo died, the partnership collapsed. Victor became convinced the Costas had betrayed him.”
Vivian looked at Edmund.
“And your family?”
“My uncle told me the Morettis caused my father’s death.”
Rebecca closed her eyes.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The lie.”
Silence.
“Which uncle?” Vivian asked.
Edmund’s expression became cold.
“Adrian.”
Vivian knew Adrian Costa.
Everyone did.
He had toasted their marriage two hours earlier.
He had called Vivian “the bridge between two great families.”
He had kissed her cheek.
“He’s downstairs.”
“Yes.”
“Does he know about 417?”
Edmund looked at Rebecca.
She nodded.
“He was Lorenzo’s operations director.”
Vivian felt sick.
“That doesn’t prove anything.”
“No,” Rebecca said. “It doesn’t.”
Edmund looked at the wedding ring on his hand.
“Why the marriage?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“Because Elena and Lorenzo created a contingency.”
Vivian laughed once.
“A contingency involving our marriage?”
“No. Involving you.”
She stopped laughing.
Rebecca produced another document.
A trust agreement.
“When Elena discovered the theft, she moved a substantial block of Moretti Maritime shares into a protected trust.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
“And Lorenzo did the same with Costa Shipping.”
Edmund’s expression changed.
“For me.”
“Yes.”
Rebecca placed the agreement between them.
“The assets could remain separate indefinitely. But if both heirs voluntarily entered a legal partnership—business or marital—the trusts could be combined.”
Vivian stared.
“How much?”
Rebecca named the figure.
Vivian sat down.
Edmund swore softly.
It was enough money to restore Moretti Maritime.
Enough to make Costa Shipping nearly impossible to challenge.
Enough to give whoever controlled both companies enormous power.
“So somebody wanted us married,” Vivian whispered.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Rebecca looked grim.
“To activate the combined trust.”
Edmund understood first.
“And then control it through us.”
“Or remove you after activation.”
The red dot.
Vivian’s blood went cold.
“They wanted Edmund dead after the wedding.”
“Possibly.”
“And me?”
Rebecca did not answer.
She didn’t need to.
Vivian stood.
“My father knew?”
“Not everything.”
“Did he arrange the marriage because of the trust?”
“No. Victor genuinely believed he had no other option.”
“Then who created his debts?”
Rebecca looked toward Edmund.
He answered.
“Someone who knew how to manipulate him.”
Vivian thought about Victor.
His gambling had become worse after Elena died.
Loans.
Bad investments.
Desperation.
Someone could have encouraged it.
Someone could have extended credit long after no rational lender would.
Someone could have waited until marriage became the only solution.
“This was planned for years,” Vivian whispered.
Edmund looked at her.
“Yes.”
Her anger shifted.
For a month she had blamed him.
For ten hours she had believed he had purchased her.
But Edmund had been moved across the board too.
A powerful man could still be manipulated if the trap was large enough.
“Did you know about the trust?” she asked.
“No.”
“Would you have married me if you had?”
He took time before answering.
“I don’t know.”
That honesty hurt less than a beautiful lie.
“Why did you agree?”
Edmund looked at her.
“Because your father came to me terrified.”
“That’s not enough.”
“No.”
“Then why?”
His voice softened.
“Because I met you three years ago.”
Vivian frowned.
“We never met.”
“You did not meet me.”
“What?”
“At a hospital fundraiser. You were arguing with an administrator because a dockworker’s daughter had been denied treatment funding.”
Vivian remembered.
“You were there?”
“Yes.”
“You never introduced yourself.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“You were furious.”
“I was always furious that year.”
“I noticed.”
She stared at him.
“So you remembered me.”
“Yes.”
“And when my father offered—”
“I told myself clearing his debts would protect you.”
“By marrying me?”
“I said I told myself that. I did not say it was noble.”
Vivian had no response.
A knock sounded.
Three quick taps.
Marcus entered.
“We found Victor.”
“Where?”
“Parking structure.”
Vivian moved immediately.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
Relief nearly folded her in half.
“But there’s something else.”
Marcus placed a tablet on the desk.
Security footage showed Victor entering the parking structure.
Then Adrian Costa followed him.
Edmund stared.
“Where is Adrian now?”
“We don’t know.”
The video continued.
Victor turned.
Adrian approached.
They argued.
No audio.
Then Victor handed Adrian something.
A folder.
Vivian leaned closer.
“What is that?”
Rebecca whispered.
“The trust.”
The footage froze.
Another person entered the frame.
Vivian’s breath stopped.
It was the waiter.
The man without the gold pin.
He removed his catering jacket.
Underneath, he wore a dark suit.
Then he turned toward the camera.
Rebecca stood so quickly her chair fell backward.
“No.”
Edmund looked at her.
“You know him?”
Rebecca’s face had gone white.
“That man worked for Lorenzo.”
“What was his name?”
Rebecca stared at the screen.
“Samuel Voss.”
Edmund frowned.
“I’ve never heard of him.”
“You wouldn’t have.”
“Why?”
“Because Samuel Voss died in the same crash that killed your father.”
Silence filled the room.
Marcus’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then looked at Edmund.
“What?”
Marcus lowered the phone.
“Victor is asking for Vivian.”
“Where?”
“Private medical room downstairs.”
Vivian reached the door.
Marcus stopped her.
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“He says he knows who arranged tonight.”
Vivian stared at him.
May you like
Marcus continued.
“But he refuses to say the name unless you come alone.”
