Chapter 3 - THE LAWYER AND THE HEIRLOOM TRUST
The rain had stopped by morning, leaving the Chicago streets slick with gray slush.
I sat across a glass desk in a high-rise office overlooking the river.
Marcus Vance—not Vincent’s enforcer, but his estranged cousin and a brilliant corporate attorney—poured two cups of black coffee.
“When you called and said you wanted to dismantle Moretti Holdings from the inside, Claire, I thought you were venting,” Marcus said quietly.
“I’m not venting, Marcus,” I said, wrapping my hands around the warm ceramic mug.
“I’m filing for divorce. And I want every asset tied to Vincent’s illegal operations exposed.”
Marcus studied my face.
He saw no tears left.
He saw only cold, unyielding iron.
“You know what happens when you cross Vincent,” Marcus warned.
“He’ll turn Chicago upside down to find you.”
“Let him look,” I replied evenly.
“He’s too busy trying to cover up the hospital records from three days ago.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
“Hospital records? What happened?”
I took a slow breath, my voice steady.
“I was in a car crash on Wednesday afternoon.”
“I called his office for help.”
“Vanessa answered and told me I was calling outside my approved fifteen-minute window.”
Marcus’s coffee cup stopped halfway to his mouth.
His eyes widened in shock and pure disgust.
“That bitch,” Marcus hissed.
“She intercepted your call?”
“She did more than that,” I whispered, looking down at my scarred hands.
“I lost our baby in the accident, Marcus.”
“And while I was waking up from surgery alone, Vincent was walking Vanessa out of the same hospital for a stomachache.”
The attorney’s face drained of color.
He slammed his mug down onto the glass desk so hard the coffee sloshed over the rim.
“That sick son of a bitch,” Marcus growled, standing up and pacing the sleek office.
“He has no idea what he just threw away.”
“He’s about to find out,” I said, sliding a thick manila folder across the desk.
“What’s this?” Marcus asked, opening the cover.
“My father’s legacy trust documents,” I explained.
“My father died saving Vincent’s father during an ambush years ago.”
“As a reward, the Moretti family set up a silent partnership giving my father’s estate forty percent voting shares in Moretti Holdings.”
“When my parents died, Vincent inherited control of my shares under our marriage contract.”
“Now that we are divorcing, those shares revert entirely to me.”
Marcus whistled low, a dark smile breaking across his face.
“Forty percent voting shares.”
“With that block, you don’t just divorce him, Claire.”
“You legally strip him of the chairmanship.”
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“Get the paperwork ready, Marcus,” I said, standing up and buttoning my coat.
“Let’s see how much time he has for Vanessa when his empire is crumbling around him.”
