Chapter 2 - My Family Tried to Steal the Inheritance My Grandmother Left Me—So I Signed a Marriage Contract With the Mafia Boss They Feared More Than His Entire FamilyBy nine the next morning, I had learned three things.
First, my grandmother had been much smarter than my father.
Second, my parents had been lying to me for twenty-six years.
Third, Nikolai Moretti made terrible coffee.
I stared into the black liquid he had placed in front of me.
“This could remove paint.”
“It’s espresso.”
“It’s an industrial solvent.”
Across the conference table, Penny laughed.
Nikolai looked offended.
We were inside his private office on the fifty-first floor of Moretti Tower.
Not his home.
That had been my first condition.
Business happened in business spaces.
I wasn't sleeping under Nikolai's roof simply because he'd made an outrageous marriage proposal.
At eight that morning, my independent attorney, Rebecca Sloan, had joined us.
Not a Moretti attorney.
Not a Hart attorney.
Mine.
The table was covered in documents.
My grandmother's trust occupied the center.
Rebecca tapped the relevant clause.
“Your grandmother transferred twenty-three percent of Hart Continental into an irrevocable trust when you were nine.”
“Why?”
“Because she didn't trust your father.”
I almost laughed.
“Apparently she and I should have talked more.”
“She died when you were eleven.”
“I remember.”
What I remembered most was my grandmother teaching me chess.
Never protect the queen simply because she is valuable, she'd say.
Protect your ability to move.
At thirty-five, I finally understood.
Rebecca continued.
“The trust vested at midnight.”
“So the shares are mine.”
“Yes.”
“Can my father block me?”
“No.”
“Challenge it?”
“He can try.”
“Win?”
“Unlikely.”
“What did he want me to sign?”
Rebecca slid the attempted proxy toward me.
“This.”
Penny added:
“Combined with Julian's marital addendum, your voting power would effectively pass through Julian to a holding structure controlled by Vittorio.”
I looked at Nikolai.
“Your father.”
“Yes.”
“And Julian knew?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“I don't know.”
“Find out.”
Nikolai's eyebrow lifted.
Then he smiled faintly.
“Yes, ma'am.”
Rebecca glanced between us.
“This marriage idea is still insane.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“I mean legally.”
“Less flattering.”
She opened Nikolai's proposed agreement.
“I've reviewed his contract.”
“And?”
“It is the most aggressively separate-property marital agreement I've ever seen.”
Nikolai leaned back.
“I have excellent lawyers.”
“You have terrified lawyers.”
“Also true.”
Rebecca looked at me.
“He waives every claim against your trust.”
“Good.”
“Every claim against Hart Continental.”
“Good.”
“Every right to act as proxy.”
“Good.”
“He cannot vote your shares even if you're incapacitated.”
I looked at Nikolai.
“Who can?”
“Whoever you designate.”
“Not you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because they're yours.”
Simple.
Dangerously simple.
Rebecca continued.
“He also gives you an immediate unilateral right to terminate the marriage arrangement after Monday's vote.”
I blinked.
“You can walk away Tuesday morning,” Nikolai said.
“No penalty?”
“None.”
“No money owed?”
“No.”
“No scandal clause?”
“No.”
“No confidentiality?”
“Only regarding information unrelated to criminal activity.”
Penny whistled.
“He's either serious or has been abducted and replaced.”
Nikolai ignored her.
I looked at him.
“What do you get?”
“One thing.”
“There it is.”
“Public legitimacy during the vote.”
I frowned.
“Why do you need me?”
“Because two council members distrust me.”
“Why?”
“I killed their cousin.”
Rebecca stopped turning pages.
Penny stared.
I stared.
Nikolai added:
“He was trying to kill me.”
“That clarification should have come first.”
“Probably.”
“Did you actually kill him?”
“Yes.”
No romantic euphemism.
No “handled a problem.”
No pretending.
I appreciated the honesty even when I disliked the truth.
“What exactly are you asking me to support?”
“Me.”
“That isn't an answer.”
Nikolai folded his hands.
“The Moretti organization has been moving away from street operations for eight years.”
“Because of you?”
“Mostly.”
“I've shut down trafficking relationships.”
“Drugs?”
“Three years ago.”
“Protection rackets?”
“Reduced, not eliminated.”
“Illegal gambling?”
“Still exists.”
I stared.
He continued.
“If I take control, the remaining criminal operations get separated from legitimate companies and wound down.”
“How?”
“Slowly.”
“Why slowly?”
“Because shutting everything tomorrow creates a power vacuum and people die.”
That answer sounded unpleasantly realistic.
“What does Julian want?”
“To expand.”
My stomach tightened.
“With my company?”
“Hart Continental owns insurance, logistics, data infrastructure, and commercial property.”
Nikolai looked at me.
“Combined with Moretti holdings, Julian could conceal almost anything.”
“And Vittorio wants that?”
“Yes.”
“So your father prefers Julian.”
“He prefers obedience.”
I understood that.
“Then why not simply remove Julian?”
Nikolai smiled without humor.
“Because families like ours pretend votes make violence civilized.”
Penny whispered:
“That might be the most Mafia sentence I've ever heard.”
By noon, I signed the contract.
Not the marriage certificate.
Not yet.
Terms first.
Nikolai signed after me.
Rebecca notarized everything.
Then she asked:
“When exactly are you planning to get married?”
Nikolai looked at me.
I answered:
“Tomorrow.”
Penny nearly inhaled her coffee.
“Tomorrow?”
“The vote is Monday.”
“Yes, but normal people need time.”
“We stopped being normal yesterday around the time my sister wore my dress.”
My phone rang.
Serena.
I declined it.
Again.
Declined.
Then my mother.
Declined.
My father.
Declined.
Julian.
Blocked.
Nikolai noticed.
“You don't have to cut them off because of me.”
“I’m not.”
I put the phone down.
“I'm cutting them off because of me.”
His expression softened.
That afternoon, I went to Hart Continental.
For eleven years, I had worked there.
Not as an heiress.
My father had made sure everyone believed I was simply Director of Strategic Development.
I had negotiated acquisitions.
Restructured failing divisions.
Saved the logistics branch during a recession.
Yet my father always introduced me as:
“My oldest daughter.”
Never executive.
Never strategist.
Never future shareholder.
Now I understood why.
Keeping me small made stealing from me easier.
When I entered the boardroom, my father was waiting.
So was Serena.
She still wore my ring.
I stopped.
“Take it off.”
Serena looked at Dad.
Wrong move.
“Serena.”
Her eyes returned to me.
“You heard me.”
She removed it.
Placed it on the table.
I picked it up.
Then handed it to Penny.
“Sell it.”
Serena gasped.
Julian had bought it using money transferred from a joint engagement account I had funded sixty percent.
Legally, ownership was disputed.
Emotionally, I didn't care.
“Donate my portion to a women's legal aid fund.”
Penny smiled.
“Gladly.”
My father stood.
“Enough theater.”
I looked around the boardroom.
“You mean the theater where you concealed twenty-three percent of this company from me?”
His face hardened.
“It was always intended to remain within family control.”
“I am family.”
“You aren't experienced enough.”
I laughed.
“I've worked here eleven years.”
“You've never run an organization this size.”
“Neither had you when Grandfather died.”
Silence.
Serena whispered:
“Evelyn, please don't do this.”
“Do what?”
“Destroy us.”
I stared at her.
“You slept with my fiancé.”
Her face reddened.
“Julian and I—”
“For how long?”
She looked down.
“How long?”
“Seven months.”
I absorbed it.
Seven months.
While she helped choose flowers.
While she attended dress fittings.
While she hugged me.
“Did you love him?”
“Yes.”
“Does he love you?”
She hesitated.
That hurt her more than any insult I could have offered.
I softened slightly.
“Serena.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I thought he did.”
There.
The first honest thing she'd said.
My father interrupted.
“This is irrelevant.”
I turned on him.
“No.”
“It isn't.”
“You turned both your daughters into transaction pieces.”
“Don't be dramatic.”
“I was supposed to marry Julian and transfer my vote.”
“And Serena?”
I looked at her.
“What were you promised?”
She whispered:
“Your position.”
I froze.
“What?”
Dad snapped:
“Serena.”
“No.”
She wiped her face.
“You said if I helped get Evelyn to sign, I would become Chief Brand Officer.”
My stomach turned.
Dad had bought my sister with a title.
“And Julian?”
“He said after the vote, he'd leave you.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
Julian had planned to marry me.
Use my shares.
Then eventually replace me with Serena.
But Serena had become impatient.
Or Julian had.
“Why last night?”
I asked.
Serena shook her head.
“Julian said the plan changed.”
“What changed?”
“I don't know.”
My father knew.
I looked at him.
“Why did Julian publicly choose her before I signed?”
He said nothing.
Then I understood.
“He thought humiliating me would make me easier to control.”
My father looked away.
“Did you know?”
Silence.
“Dad.”
“Yes.”
That single word ended something.
Not my relationship with him.
That had been dying for years.
My hope.
I picked up my bag.
My father said:
“If you leave, don't expect this company to welcome you back.”
I turned.
“I own twenty-three percent.”
His face tightened.
“I don't need to be welcomed.”
Then I walked out.
The next morning, I married Nikolai Moretti.
City Hall.
Eleven seventeen a.m.
Penny attended.
Rebecca attended.
Maso Greco—Nikolai's security chief—served as his witness.
No flowers.
No reporters.
No white dress.
I wore navy.
Nikolai wore black.
Of course.
The clerk asked:
“Do you, Nikolai Moretti, take Evelyn Hart—”
He interrupted.
“Evelyn Hart.”
The clerk blinked.
“Yes?”
“She keeps her name.”
I looked at him.
He looked back.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
The clerk continued.
When my turn came, my voice didn't shake.
“I do.”
Then Nikolai said the same.
No kiss was required.
He didn't assume one.
Outside City Hall, snow fell softly.
Penny hugged me.
“You just married Chicago's most feared man.”
“Apparently.”
“Any regrets?”
I looked at Nikolai.
He stood several feet away giving me space while speaking with Rebecca.
“No.”
Not yet.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Julian.
You have no idea what you've done.
I showed Nikolai.
He read it.
Then returned the phone.
“What?”
“You're not going to threaten him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you appear perfectly capable of answering.”
I smiled.
Then typed:
Actually, Julian, for the first time in years, I know exactly what I'm doing.
Three dots appeared.
Then vanished.
That night, everything changed again.
At 2:14 a.m., someone broke into my apartment.
They didn't steal jewelry.
Didn't take cash.
Didn't touch electronics.
They searched one place.
My grandmother's old cedar chest.
And left one thing behind.
A photograph.
My grandmother Evelyn Rose Hart standing beside Vittorio Moretti thirty years earlier.
On the back, in her handwriting, were seven words:
If Richard betrays me, Nikolai must know.
My husband was twenty-three years younger than the photograph.
Which meant Grandmother wasn't talking about Nikolai.
She was talking about someone else.
Someone with the same name.
And beneath the photograph lay an old birth certificate.
Father:
Nikolai Anton Moretti.
Mother:
Evelyn Rose Hart.
Child:
Richard Hart.
My father.
I stared at it.
Then at my new husband.
Nikolai went completely still.
Because the document meant my father wasn't simply connected to the Moretti family.
He was one of them.
May you like
And Monday's council vote wasn't choosing between two brothers.
It was deciding whether my father could use my stolen inheritance to claim the empire for himself.
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