Chapter 3 - HER DEAD FATHER’S SECRET TRUST NAMED A SUCCESSOR NO ONE EXPECTED—AND WHEN BEATRICE LEARNED WHY CAMILA HAD TARGETED HER FAMILY, THE “MISTRESS” STOPPED LOOKING LIKE A GOLD DIGGER AND STARTED LOOKING LIKE A DAUGHTER SEEKING REVENGE
Schedule C contained one name.
Lucia Romano.
Beatatrice stared.
"I don't know a Lucia."
Nathaniel Greene did.
His face told her before he spoke.
"Who is she?"
Nathaniel sat.
"Your sister."
Beatatrice laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because sometimes reality became too absurd for any other response.
"I don't have a sister."
"Carmine did."
"Had?"
Nathaniel closed his eyes.
"Before your mother."
The story emerged slowly.
Carmine Romano had been twenty-two.
Poor.
Ambitious.
Not yet powerful.
He fell in love with a woman named Elena Vain.
They had a daughter.
Lucia.
Then Carmine's father arranged his marriage to Beatatrice's mother.
Elena was paid to disappear.
Carmine obeyed.
Years later he regretted it.
He secretly supported Lucia.
Paid for school.
Housing.
Medical care.
But never publicly acknowledged her.
"Vain," Beatatrice whispered.
Nathaniel nodded.
"Camila."
"No."
"Camila Vain is Lucia's daughter."
Beatatrice sat down.
Camila was Carmine's granddaughter.
Her cousin.
Not some random mistress.
Not merely a model hunting wealth.
She had entered Dominic's life deliberately.
"She wants the inheritance."
"Perhaps."
"Why didn't Dad name me and Lucia together?"
"He tried finding Lucia before he died."
"Did he?"
"No."
"Why?"
Nathaniel hesitated.
"Because Lucia died fourteen years ago."
Camila had grown up knowing the Romano family lived in enormous homes while her mother worked two jobs.
Carmine's secret payments stopped after Lucia died.
Someone inside the Romano organization intercepted them.
Camila believed Carmine had abandoned them.
Then she discovered the truth.
Or part of it.
She blamed Carmine.
Beatatrice.
Dominic.
Everyone.
Rose DeLuca traced Camila to a safe house outside Milwaukee.
Dominic wanted armed men.
Beatatrice refused.
"I'm going."
"No."
She stared at him.
Dominic corrected himself.
"I think it's dangerous."
"Better."
"I'm coming."
"Why?"
"Because I helped create this."
That answer was new.
They found Camila alone.
No guards.
No glamorous dress.
Jeans.
Sweater.
The sapphire sat on a table.
She looked exhausted.
Beatatrice entered first.
"Lucia."
Camila froze.
Then laughed bitterly.
"So you found it."
"You're my cousin."
"Unfortunately."
Dominic remained near the door.
Camila looked at him with disgust.
"Did the king discover his wife owns his castle?"
Dominic accepted it.
Beatatrice sat.
"Why my father?"
"Your father?"
Camila's eyes filled.
"My grandmother spent thirty years waiting for Carmine Romano to acknowledge his daughter."
"Lucia was your mother."
"Yes."
"He sent money."
Camila laughed.
"No."
"He did."
"No."
Beatatrice placed records on the table.
Payments.
Trust transfers.
Letters.
Camila stopped breathing.
"No."
"Someone intercepted them after your mother died."
"Who?"
"We're finding out."
Camila stared at the letters.
Then began crying.
Not elegant tears.
Years of rage collapsing.
"He knew?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't he come?"
Beatatrice had no kind answer.
"Because he was a coward."
Dominic looked at her.
She continued.
"My father loved people badly when loving them publicly cost him power."
Camila wiped her face.
"So you still get everything."
"No."
Beatatrice placed Schedule C down.
"Lucia was successor."
Camila stared.
"If Dad had found your mother before he died, she would have inherited if something happened to me."
"Then it belongs to me."
"Legally? Not automatically."
Camila's expression hardened.
"There she is."
"I'm not finished."
Beatatrice leaned forward.
"If the evidence proves Dad intended to restore Lucia's share, I will honor it."
Dominic stared at her.
Camila did too.
"Why?"
"Because what happened to your mother was wrong."
Camila's lips trembled.
"And what you did to me was also wrong."
Silence.
"You slept with my husband."
Dominic looked down.
"You helped humiliate me publicly."
Camila said nothing.
"You stole money."
"I took what—"
"You thought you were owed."
Beatatrice nodded.
"I understand the feeling."
Then:
"But understanding you is not absolving you."
Camila cried quietly.
Dominic finally spoke.
"I used you too."
Both women looked at him.
He swallowed.
"I wanted to hurt Beatatrice."
That sentence cost him.
"I knew exactly what bringing you to the gala meant."
Beatatrice felt old pain move.
But differently.
Dominic continued.
"I wanted her to feel replaceable."
"Why?"
Camila asked.
Dominic looked toward Beatatrice.
"Because I resented that her father had power over me."
Beatatrice stared.
"So you punished me."
"Yes."
"For Dad's control."
"Yes."
"With my body."
His face twisted.
"What?"
"You knew what people said about me."
Silence.
"You knew choosing a thin model publicly would tell everyone the whispers were true."
Dominic's eyes filled.
"I did."
"Say it."
He struggled.
Then:
"I weaponized the way people judged your body because I knew it would hurt you."
Camila looked uncomfortable.
Beatatrice's throat tightened.
Dominic continued.
"It was cruel."
"Yes."
"And cowardly."
"Yes."
"I'm sorry."
Beatatrice nodded.
She did not forgive him.
Not then.
Maybe not ever.
But she believed the apology because he had finally named the harm accurately.
Camila suddenly looked toward the window.
Fear.
"What?"
Beatatrice asked.
"We need to leave."
"Why?"
"I wasn't working alone."
Dominic moved.
"Who?"
Camila whispered:
"Victor Russo."
Dominic's uncle.
Chairman of Russo Maritime.
The man who had encouraged Dominic to marry Beatatrice.
The man who negotiated Carmine's original deal.
Camila continued.
"Victor found me three years ago."
"He told you about Lucia?"
"Yes."
"He funded you?"
"At first."
"Why?"
"Because he wanted Romano assets."
Beatatrice understood.
Victor had used Camila's legitimate grievance.
Her anger.
Her beauty.
Dominic's resentment.
Everything.
"And my father?"
Beatatrice asked.
Camila looked sick.
"I didn't kill him."
"Did Victor?"
"I don't know."
Then a red dot appeared on Camila's chest.
Dominic saw it first.
"Down!"
Glass shattered.
They hit the floor.
Gunfire tore through the room.
Dominic covered Beatatrice.
Camila crawled behind the kitchen island.
More shots.
Dominic's security team returned fire.
When silence came, Victor's shooters were gone.
But one thing had become clear.
Camila had stopped being useful.
And Victor Russo was cleaning the board.
That night, Camila surrendered herself to federal investigators.
She gave them records.
Accounts.
Messages.
Everything.
Dominic did the same.
Beatatrice stared at him.
"You know what that means."
"Yes."
"Your organization."
"Yes."
"Your freedom."
"Possibly."
"Why?"
Dominic looked at her.
"Because for five years, every time I had a choice between doing what was right and protecting my power, I chose power."
He glanced toward Camila.
"Look what it made of all of us."
Beatatrice felt something painful.
Not forgiveness.
Not love.
Maybe grief for the marriage they might have had if Dominic had learned that lesson before destroying it.
Then Rose called.
They had found evidence concerning Carmine's death.
Victor Russo had bribed Carmine's cardiologist.
Not to poison him.
Not to murder him directly.
To hide a dangerous cardiac condition.
Carmine had been advised to undergo urgent surgery.
Victor ensured the recommendation never reached the family.
Then pushed Carmine through exhausting negotiations.
Stress.
Travel.
Alcohol.
Carmine's heart failed four days later.
Not a cinematic murder.
Something colder.
Victor had known Carmine might die.
And had simply made sure nobody saved him.
Beatatrice sat silently.
Then asked:
"Where is Victor?"
Dominic answered.
"Russo Towers."
Beatatrice looked toward Chicago.
Her building.
Her land.
May you like
Her father's legacy.
"Then let's evict him."
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