Chapter 3 - Her Wealthy Ex-Fiancé Tried to Destroy Her Reputation—Until the Mafia Boss Revealed the Secret Bank Transfer That Had Ruined Her FamilyBy nine the following morning, my face was everywhere.
Not on concert posters.
Not in music magazines.
Not on the walls of the conservatories where I had once dreamed of studying.
My face was on gossip websites.
Social media.
And the front page of a New York entertainment publication.
The headline read:
MAFIA KING'S MAID ACCUSED OF STEALING FAMILY SECRETS AFTER SEDUCING BILLIONAIRE BOSS WITH PIANO PERFORMANCE.
I stared at my phone.
My stomach turned.
The article described me as a disgraced former pianist who had manipulated Cassian Voss into offering financial assistance.
It claimed I had stolen confidential documents.
It accused my father of participating in financial fraud.
And it suggested that my performance at the charity gala had been part of an elaborate scheme.
Every sentence felt like another knife.
I scrolled down.
There was a photograph of me sitting at the Steinway.
Another showed Cassian standing beside me.
A third showed Julian Hale.
Smiling.
Confident.
The caption identified him as a respected businessman who had courageously exposed my alleged deception.
I laughed.
A horrible, broken sound.
"Courageously?"
My hands trembled.
The man who had stolen my father's treatment money was now presenting himself as the victim.
And people believed him.
I opened the comments.
She's obviously after the billionaire.
Why would a maid suddenly be able to play that well?
Probably a setup.
Poor Julian. Imagine being engaged to someone like that.
I stopped reading.
My throat burned.
Four years ago, Julian had destroyed my finances.
Now he was trying to destroy my name.
My phone rang.
Margaret.
I answered.
"Hello?"
"Elena, sweetheart."
Her voice was gentle.
"Are you all right?"
I swallowed.
"Not really."
"I saw the articles."
I closed my eyes.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't you dare apologize."
I blinked.
Margaret continued.
"Everyone who works here knows what kind of person you are."
My eyes filled.
"Thank you."
"Mr. Voss wants to see you."
My stomach tightened.
"Am I fired?"
There was a pause.
Then Margaret said something unexpected.
"Elena, that man has been pacing his office since six this morning. I don't think firing you is what's on his mind."
When I arrived at the mansion, reporters were waiting outside the gates.
Cameras flashed.
Microphones appeared.
"Elena!"
"Did you steal from Cassian Voss?"
"Are you romantically involved with him?"
"Did your father commit financial fraud?"
I froze.
One reporter stepped closer.
"Miss Marlow, is it true your former fiancé ended your engagement because you were dishonest?"
Something inside me cracked.
I turned.
"My fiancé stole money meant for my dying father's treatment."
The reporters went silent.
Then cameras flashed faster.
I immediately regretted speaking.
A security guard approached.
"Miss Marlow, this way."
He guided me through the gate.
Behind us, the questions continued.
I kept walking.
But my hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Inside the mansion, Margaret waited beside the staircase.
She took one look at me and opened her arms.
I didn't realize how badly I needed a hug until I stepped into it.
For a moment, I let myself cry.
Then I wiped my cheeks.
"I'm okay."
Margaret smiled sadly.
"No, sweetheart. But you will be."
She guided me upstairs.
Cassian's office doors stood open.
I heard his voice before I entered.
"Find out who supplied those photographs."
Marco answered.
"We're tracing the source."
"And the publication?"
"Our legal team has contacted them about the false allegations."
"Good."
I stepped into the doorway.
Cassian turned.
His expression changed immediately.
"Elena."
I looked down.
"Mr. Voss, I'm sorry."
His eyes narrowed.
"For what?"
"The publicity."
He stared at me.
Then slowly walked around his desk.
"Look at me."
I raised my eyes.
"Did you steal anything from this house?"
"No."
"Did you fabricate your performance?"
"No."
"Did you lie about your father?"
My throat tightened.
"No."
"Then stop apologizing for someone else's lies."
I swallowed.
"But your reputation—"
"My reputation survived worse things than a gossip article."
He looked toward Marco.
"Give us a moment."
Marco nodded and left.
Cassian gestured toward the chair opposite his desk.
"Sit."
I hesitated.
He sighed.
"Elena, that was an invitation, not an order."
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
I sat.
Cassian remained standing.
For several seconds, he studied me.
Then he said, "Julian Hale is trying to provoke you."
I looked up.
"Why?"
"Because he knows we're investigating the money."
I frowned.
"But if he stole it, why would he attract more attention?"
"Because public accusations can distract people from financial evidence."
I looked down at my hands.
"He called my father a criminal."
Cassian's expression hardened.
"I know."
"My father spent his entire life helping people."
"I believe you."
I shook my head.
"Believing me isn't enough."
Cassian was silent.
I looked up.
"I need proof."
He nodded.
"Then we'll find it."
An hour later, Marco entered carrying three thick folders.
He placed them on Cassian's desk.
"We've completed the preliminary reconstruction."
Cassian opened the first folder.
"Start at the beginning."
Marco glanced at me.
"Miss Marlow, your father maintained an account dedicated to his medical treatment."
I nodded.
"Julian had access."
"Yes. But access alone didn't authorize the transactions."
He opened the folder.
"The money was transferred into an intermediary account controlled by a company called Northbridge Cultural Holdings."
I leaned forward.
"I saw that name."
Marco nodded.
"Northbridge presented itself as a charitable organization supporting arts education."
Cassian's expression darkened.
"In reality, it was used to move funds between businesses controlled by the Hale family."
My stomach twisted.
Marco turned a page.
"From there, your father's money was divided into three transfers."
He pointed to the records.
"Forty thousand dollars went to a consulting company."
Another page.
"Sixty thousand went to a property development firm."
Then the final page.
"Eighty thousand went to an account associated with Hale Maritime Services."
I stared.
"Julian's family?"
"Yes."
I felt sick.
"What happened to the money?"
Marco hesitated.
"Some of it was used to settle a debt owed by Julian."
I stared.
"A debt?"
Cassian spoke.
"Julian had borrowed money from people he couldn't afford to disappoint."
My heart pounded.
"How much?"
"Several million."
I almost laughed.
"Millions?"
Cassian nodded.
"And he used my father's treatment money to pay part of it?"
"That's what the records indicate."
I covered my mouth.
For years, I had imagined Julian spending the money on Vivian.
Jewelry.
Vacations.
Expensive suits.
Somehow, the truth was worse.
He had used my father's life savings to protect himself from consequences.
I stared at the documents.
Then something occurred to me.
"Wait."
Cassian looked up.
"What?"
"The final transfer."
Marco turned back.
"Yes?"
"It happened after my father died."
Marco nodded.
"Three days later."
I swallowed.
"How could Julian transfer money after the account was supposed to be closed?"
Marco looked toward Cassian.
Cassian's expression changed.
"Show her the authorization."
Marco hesitated.
Then removed a single page.
It contained a scanned signature.
ARTHUR MARLOW.
I stared.
My father's name.
Written in familiar sloping letters.
But something was wrong.
I leaned closer.
"That's not his signature."
Marco frowned.
"Are you certain?"
"Yes."
I pointed.
"My father always crossed the final letter of his surname with a long upward stroke. This one doesn't."
Cassian studied the page.
"Anything else?"
I nodded.
"He never wrote his first name in full on financial documents. He signed A. Marlow."
Marco looked at Cassian.
"We'll have a forensic document examiner review it."
I stared at the paper.
Someone had forged my father's signature after he died.
My stomach turned.
"Julian."
Cassian's eyes hardened.
"Possibly."
I looked at him.
"Possibly?"
"We need evidence linking him directly to the authorization."
I swallowed.
"Then find it."
Cassian nodded.
"We will."
At noon, Vivian Ashcroft arrived.
Uninvited.
I heard her before I saw her.
Her voice echoed through the entrance hall.
"Tell Cassian I need to speak with him immediately!"
Margaret appeared in the office doorway.
"Mr. Voss, Miss Ashcroft is downstairs."
Cassian didn't look up.
"Tell her I'm unavailable."
A moment later, Vivian pushed past Margaret.
"Don't be ridiculous!"
She entered wearing a white designer dress and a diamond bracelet that glittered beneath the lights.
Her gaze landed on me.
Her expression twisted.
"Oh. Of course she's here."
I stood.
"I can leave."
Cassian spoke.
"Sit down, Elena."
Vivian laughed.
"Elena? How sweet."
Cassian looked at her.
"Why are you here?"
Vivian crossed her arms.
"To discuss the disaster you've created."
"I didn't create it."
"Your maid has become a public embarrassment."
My cheeks burned.
Cassian's expression hardened.
"Careful."
Vivian ignored him.
"Do you have any idea what people are saying?"
"Yes."
"Then why is she still here?"
Cassian stood.
The room seemed to shrink.
"Because she works here."
Vivian stared.
"You're choosing a servant over your own social circle?"
Cassian's voice dropped.
"I'm choosing not to punish an employee because her former fiancé is a thief."
Vivian went pale.
"Julian hasn't been convicted of anything."
"Then he should welcome a proper investigation."
She looked toward me.
"You think you're special because you played one song?"
I said nothing.
Vivian stepped closer.
"Women like you always think a wealthy man will rescue them."
I stood slowly.
"Women like me?"
She smiled coldly.
"Desperate women."
Something inside me finally snapped.
"You're right about one thing."
Vivian blinked.
"I was desperate."
I stepped closer.
"My father was dying. I was twenty-three. I had spent years practicing piano, and suddenly I was trying to understand hospital bills while watching the strongest person I knew become too weak to stand."
My voice shook.
"I was desperate enough to trust a man who promised to help us."
Vivian's smile faded.
"But desperation isn't shameful."
I looked directly at her.
"Stealing from someone desperate is."
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Vivian's expression changed.
Not anger.
Fear.
She looked toward the folders on Cassian's desk.
"What exactly have you found?"
Cassian noticed.
His eyes narrowed.
"Why?"
Vivian swallowed.
"Because Julian's family has business relationships with mine."
Cassian stepped closer.
"Which relationships?"
"Investments."
"Through Northbridge?"
Her face drained of color.
I stared.
Cassian's voice became dangerously quiet.
"Vivian."
She looked away.
"Answer me."
"I don't know everything."
"Then tell me what you do know."
Vivian's hands trembled.
"Northbridge was supposed to be a cultural foundation."
Cassian said nothing.
She continued.
"My father used it to support music programs."
I looked at her.
"Music programs?"
She nodded.
Then glanced toward me.
"Arthur Marlow was one of the technicians we hired."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
Vivian looked miserable.
"Your father repaired instruments for the foundation."
I stared.
"He never told me."
Cassian's expression hardened.
"Why would Arthur keep that secret?"
Vivian swallowed.
"Because he discovered irregularities."
Silence.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"What irregularities?"
Vivian looked toward the door.
"I shouldn't be telling you this."
Cassian stepped between her and the exit.
"You're already involved."
She stared at him.
Then whispered, "Arthur found invoices for instruments that never existed."
I frowned.
"What?"
"Expensive pianos. Violins. Rare collections. The foundation claimed to purchase them, but some were never delivered."
Cassian's eyes narrowed.
"Money laundering through fictional inventory."
Vivian nodded.
My heart hammered.
"And my father found out?"
"Yes."
"What happened?"
Vivian looked at me.
For the first time, there was no mockery in her expression.
Only guilt.
"He threatened to report it."
I couldn't breathe.
"And?"
Vivian whispered, "Julian was told to make sure Arthur stayed quiet."
The room went silent.
I stared at her.
My voice barely worked.
"What did you just say?"
She began crying.
"I didn't know about the treatment money until later."
I stepped backward.
Cassian moved toward me.
"Elena."
I shook my head.
"No."
Vivian wiped her cheeks.
"I swear I didn't know."
I looked at her.
"Did Julian steal our money because my father discovered the fraud?"
She didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
My knees weakened.
Cassian caught my elbow before I fell.
I pulled away.
"Don't."
He released me immediately.
I looked at Vivian.
"Did your family know my father was dying?"
She lowered her eyes.
"Yes."
My chest tightened.
"And nobody helped him?"
Silence.
I laughed.
A terrible sound.
"Of course."
I looked toward the window.
My father had spent his final months struggling to breathe.
And somewhere, wealthy men had been discussing how to keep him quiet.
I turned back.
"Get out."
Vivian stared.
"What?"
"Get out."
Cassian looked at her.
"You heard her."
Vivian hesitated.
Then fled.
I spent the next hour in the music library.
Alone.
The Rosewood Queen stood near the window.
Its dark wooden surface glowed beneath the afternoon sun.
I sat on the floor beside it.
And cried.
Not politely.
Not quietly.
I cried the way I had cried after my father's funeral.
The way I had cried when Julian disappeared.
The way I had cried when the hospital called to tell me there was nothing more they could do.
Because suddenly, my father's death felt different.
For four years, I had believed we were simply unlucky.
That illness had taken him.
That poverty had stolen our options.
That Julian's betrayal had been a cruel but separate tragedy.
Now I knew the truth was more complicated.
My father had discovered something dangerous.
And the people responsible had exploited his illness to silence him.
I pressed my forehead against the piano.
"I'm sorry, Dad."
The room remained silent.
"I should have known."
I closed my eyes.
"I should have protected you."
A voice spoke behind me.
"You were his daughter, Elena. Not his bodyguard."
I turned.
Cassian stood in the doorway.
He had removed his jacket again.
His expression was gentle.
I wiped my cheeks.
"I thought you were busy."
"I was."
He approached slowly.
"May I sit?"
I nodded.
He lowered himself onto the floor beside me.
The sight was almost absurd.
Cassian Voss.
One of New York's most feared men.
Sitting on the floor of his mansion beside a crying maid.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then I whispered, "Do you think he knew?"
Cassian looked at me.
"Knew what?"
"That Julian stole the money."
He hesitated.
"I don't know."
I stared at the piano.
"Do you think he was disappointed in me?"
Cassian turned toward me.
"Elena."
My eyes filled.
"I trusted Julian. I gave him access. I thought he loved me."
Cassian's voice softened.
"Trusting someone you loved wasn't a crime."
"But it cost my father—"
"No."
His voice was firm.
I looked at him.
"Julian made his choices. The people who exploited your father's illness made theirs. You didn't cause their actions."
I swallowed.
Cassian continued.
"Your father was proud of you."
I looked down.
"You don't know that."
"I know what kind of man repairs pianos for children who can't afford lessons."
I stared.
He smiled faintly.
"And I know what kind of daughter learns an impossible concerto because her father believes she can."
Tears slipped down my cheeks.
Cassian reached into his pocket.
Removed a folded handkerchief.
And offered it to me.
I laughed weakly.
"Do you always carry one?"
"My mother insisted."
I took it.
"Your mother sounds nice."
His smile faded.
"She was."
I looked at him.
"Was?"
He nodded.
"She died when I was twenty."
"I'm sorry."
He looked toward the window.
"She loved music."
I glanced at the piano.
"Did she play?"
"Every evening."
"What happened?"
Cassian was silent for a long moment.
Then he said, "My father destroyed most things she loved."
I turned toward him.
His jaw tightened.
"He was a powerful man. He believed affection made people weak."
I stared.
"And you?"
Cassian looked at me.
"I spent years believing him."
My heart tightened.
"Do you still?"
He considered the question.
Then shook his head.
"Not anymore."
That evening, Adrian Falk called.
I almost didn't answer.
My face was still swollen from crying.
But when I saw his name, my heart quickened.
"Hello?"
"Miss Marlow."
His distinguished voice was warm.
"I hope I'm not interrupting."
"No, sir."
"I've been reviewing the recording of your performance."
I froze.
"The recording?"
"Yes. Cassian's event team provided a copy with your permission request pending. I haven't shared it."
I swallowed.
"Was it terrible?"
Adrian laughed.
"Quite the opposite."
I sat straighter.
He continued.
"Your technique needs refinement after several years away from serious practice."
My heart sank.
"But your musical instincts are extraordinary."
I stopped breathing.
"I would like to invite you to audition for my private studio."
My eyes filled.
"Really?"
"Really."
I covered my mouth.
He continued.
"There's an international concert opportunity next spring. I believe you could be a candidate if you're willing to work."
I laughed through tears.
"I'll work harder than anyone."
"Good."
He paused.
"One more thing, Elena."
"Yes?"
"Don't let the gossip frighten you."
My throat tightened.
"Everyone thinks I'm a fraud."
"Then give them a performance they can't dismiss."
I closed my eyes.
For the first time in years, hope felt stronger than fear.
"I will."
At eight thirty, Cassian called me into his office.
Marco stood beside the desk.
Three computer screens displayed financial records.
Cassian gestured toward a chair.
"We found something."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
Marco opened a file.
"We traced the money from your father's treatment account beyond the Hale companies."
I sat.
"Where did it go?"
Marco turned the screen toward me.
A series of transactions appeared.
Dates.
Amounts.
Company names.
Then one final destination.
VOSS HERITAGE TRUST.
I stared.
My heart stopped.
"That's your family."
Cassian nodded slowly.
"Yes."
I looked at him.
"You said Julian stole the money."
"He did."
"But it ended up here."
"Some of it."
My hands began trembling.
"Did you know?"
Cassian met my eyes.
"No."
I wanted to believe him.
But the screen was right there.
His family name.
His father's legacy.
My father's stolen money.
I stood.
"How much?"
Marco hesitated.
"Seventy-five thousand dollars."
I stared.
"Seventy-five thousand."
Cassian's jaw tightened.
"The trust was controlled by my father at the time."
I looked at him.
"Your father."
"Yes."
I laughed bitterly.
"Of course."
Cassian stepped closer.
"Elena—"
I backed away.
"Don't."
He stopped.
I looked at the screen again.
Then noticed something.
A transaction note.
A reference number.
And a description.
ROSEWOOD RESTORATION — FINAL SETTLEMENT.
My heart hammered.
"The piano."
Cassian turned.
"What?"
I pointed.
"The Rosewood Queen."
Marco leaned toward the screen.
Cassian's expression changed.
I swallowed.
"My father repaired that piano."
Cassian nodded.
"And someone used the restoration as a reason to move money."
Marco began typing.
"There's another attachment."
He opened it.
A scanned invoice appeared.
My father's signature was at the bottom.
But I recognized the problem immediately.
"That's forged."
Cassian looked at me.
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
I pointed.
"Same mistake as the other authorization."
Marco enlarged the document.
Then opened another file.
"There's a corresponding payment."
Cassian leaned closer.
"To whom?"
Marco's expression changed.
"Julian Hale."
My stomach twisted.
Cassian stared at the screen.
Then said, "Open the supporting documents."
Marco clicked.
A second invoice appeared.
Then a third.
Then a fourth.
All connected to the same transaction.
And on the final page was a name I hadn't expected.
AUGUSTUS VOSS.
Cassian's father.
Beneath it was another signature.
JULIAN HALE.
And a handwritten instruction:
ENSURE MARLOW NEVER DELIVERS THE ORIGINAL RECORDING.
I stopped breathing.
"Recording?"
Cassian stared at the screen.
Marco looked up.
"Boss, there's a note attached."
"Read it."
Marco swallowed.
"Subject: Arthur Marlow. The evidence must remain inside the instrument until collection. If he refuses to cooperate, proceed with the alternative arrangement."
Silence.
I looked at Cassian.
"What alternative arrangement?"
He didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
"Cassian."
His expression had turned deadly.
Marco continued.
"There's a date."
My heart pounded.
"When?"
Marco looked at me.
"Eleven weeks before your father's death."
I felt the room tilt.
Eleven weeks.
The exact length of time between Julian stealing our savings and my father's death.
I gripped the edge of the desk.
Cassian reached toward me.
I pulled away.
"No."
His hand stopped.
I looked at the documents.
Then at him.
"Your father was involved."
Cassian's jaw tightened.
"Yes."
I swallowed.
"And Julian."
"Yes."
My eyes filled.
"And someone ordered my father to be silenced."
Cassian didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, "That's what we need to establish."
I shook my head.
"No more careful words."
He looked at me.
"My father is dead, Elena. I can't question him. But I can find the people who carried out those instructions."
I stared at him.
"Will you?"
His eyes hardened.
"Yes."
"Even if it destroys your family's reputation?"
Cassian stepped closer.
"My family's reputation isn't worth your father's life."
My throat tightened.
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Then Marco's phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
And went pale.
Cassian noticed.
"What happened?"
Marco lowered the phone.
"Boss."
"What?"
"The Rosewood Queen was examined again."
My heart quickened.
"And?"
Marco swallowed.
"We found another compartment."
I stared.
"Another?"
He nodded.
"Inside the keyboard assembly."
Cassian's expression sharpened.
"What was in it?"
Marco looked at me.
Then back at Cassian.
"A small digital recorder."
My breath caught.
"Does it work?"
Marco hesitated.
"We recovered an audio file."
I stepped forward.
"Play it."
Cassian looked at me.
"Elena, we don't know what's on it."
"I don't care."
My voice shook.
"Play it."
Marco connected his phone to the office speakers.
A soft crackling sound filled the room.
Then came the distant noise of a workshop.
Tools.
Footsteps.
A door closing.
And suddenly, a voice.
A voice I hadn't heard in four years.
My father's voice.
"Julian, I know what you did."
My knees weakened.
I covered my mouth.
The recording continued.
Julian answered.
"Arthur, you're making a mistake."
My father's voice grew stronger.
"No. My mistake was trusting you with my daughter's future."
A chair scraped.
Julian spoke again.
"Give me the recording."
My father laughed bitterly.
"You think I'm going to hand over evidence of what your family has done?"
Silence.
Then another voice entered.
Older.
Cold.
Authoritative.
"Mr. Marlow."
Cassian went completely still.
I looked at him.
His face had turned white.
"Who is that?" I whispered.
Cassian didn't answer.
The voice continued.
"You've become a problem."
My father replied.
"Then perhaps you should stop stealing from people who can't defend themselves."
The older man laughed softly.
"You're a piano repairman, Arthur. Don't pretend you're a hero."
My father's response made tears stream down my face.
"I'm not trying to be a hero."
A pause.
"I'm trying to be a father."
Then came a terrible sound.
A struggle.
A crash.
My father's frightened voice.
"Stay away from my daughter!"
The recording crackled.
A gunshot echoed.
I screamed.
Cassian grabbed the desk.
Marco froze.
Then the older man's voice returned.
"Clean this up."
A pause.
"And make sure Elena Marlow never learns what happened here."
The recording ended.
Silence filled the office.
I stood trembling.
My father.
His voice.
His fear.
His final attempt to protect me.
I turned toward Cassian.
He looked devastated.
"That was your father," I whispered.
He nodded.
"Augustus Voss."
My chest tightened.
"Your father ordered mine to be killed."
Cassian closed his eyes.
For several seconds, he didn't move.
Then he looked at me.
"I will find out exactly what happened."
I shook my head.
Tears blurred my vision.
"How can I trust you?"
Cassian's expression broke.
Just for a moment.
Then he spoke quietly.
"You don't have to trust me yet."
I stared.
"But I will help you uncover the truth, even if it destroys everything my father built."
Before I could answer, the office doors burst open.
A security guard rushed inside.
"Boss!"
Cassian turned.
"What?"
The guard looked terrified.
"We have a problem."
"Speak."
"Someone broke into the old Marlow music shop."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
The guard swallowed.
"They left a message."
Cassian's expression darkened.
"What message?"
The guard looked directly at me.
Then spoke.
"TELL ELENA TO STOP PLAYING HER FATHER'S MUSIC—OR SHE'LL BE THE NEXT MARLOW WE BURY."
I couldn't breathe.
Cassian's gray eyes turned cold.
He looked toward Marco.
"Find whoever sent that."
Then he turned back to me.
His voice was quiet.
Controlled.
And more frightening than any shout.
"Elena, whoever killed your father has just made one very serious mistake."
I stared at him through my tears.
"What mistake?"
Cassian stepped closer.
"They've threatened the woman I'm falling in love with."
And as the words settled between us, I realized something terrifying.
The man whose family had helped destroy my father might be the only man powerful enough to uncover the truth.
May you like
But loving Cassian Voss could cost me everything.
Including my life.
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