Chapter 5 - THE PRICE OF LOYALTY
The foyer felt as though it had been submerged underwater. The roaring in my ears drowned out everything else.
Fifty percent of the land rights.
“That’s impossible,” I stammered, backing away from Vincent as if he were holding a live wire. “My mother died with nothing. We lost our house to medical bills. If she owned half of a multi-million dollar property, she would have told me!”
“Arthur insisted on keeping it a secret,” Teresa said softly, stepping forward, the pieces finally coming together in her own mind. “He told Elena that David Thorne had contacts everywhere. If David knew Elena held half the deed, he would have targeted her to get it. Arthur put it in a blind trust to protect her. To protect you.”
I looked down at Mia, who was clutching my leg, staring up at the adults with wide, frightened eyes.
My mother had died believing she had left us destitute. She had worked her fingers to the bone, rolling pastry dough until her hands cramped, all to keep a roof over our heads. And the whole time, she was sitting on a fortune.
“So… Rosalind’s paper means nothing?” Teresa asked, a desperate glimmer of hope returning to her eyes.
“It’s void without Clara’s signature,” Vincent confirmed, a fierce, triumphant smile finally breaking through his devastation. He looked at me, not as a housemaid, but as an equal. “They tried to steal it, but my father outsmarted them from the grave.”
The relief that washed over Vincent was palpable. He ran a hand through his dark hair, the heavy weight of failure lifting from his shoulders.
“I need to call Marcus back,” Vincent said, energized. “We’ll file an injunction first thing in the morning based on the dual-trust clause. We’re safe, Mom. We’re safe.”
He turned and walked rapidly toward his study, dialing his phone.
Teresa let out a long, shuddering sigh and slumped against the wall. I hurried over to help her to a nearby bench.
“Thank God,” Teresa whispered, patting my hand with her cold, trembling fingers. “Arthur always said your mother was an angel. It seems she’s still watching over us.”
I managed a weak smile, but a cold, heavy knot was forming in the pit of my stomach.
I left Teresa resting on the bench and gently picked Mia up, carrying her toward the back stairs that led to the servant’s quarters over the garage.
“Are we rich now, Mommy?” Mia whispered sleepily, resting her head on my shoulder.
“I don’t know, baby,” I whispered back, kissing her forehead. “Let’s just get you to bed.”
I tucked Mia into her small twin bed in our cramped, drafty room. I pulled the worn quilt up to her chin and waited until her breathing evened out.
Then, I walked into the tiny kitchenette and sat at the wobbly wooden table.
I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread. Rosalind Thorne was not a woman who made mistakes. She had spent two years manipulating her way into Vincent’s life, infiltrating his business, and orchestrating a hostile takeover. She wouldn’t have executed her plan without knowing every detail of the Hale Trust.
She has a father who is a brilliant real estate attorney, I thought, my heart beating faster. There is no way they didn’t know about the dual-party clause.
A sudden, sharp knock at the door of my apartment made me jump.
I stood up quickly, grabbing my sweater. I opened the door.
Standing on the small wooden landing, wrapped in her designer coat, the freezing wind whipping her blonde hair across her face, was Rosalind.
She didn’t look defeated. She looked like a predator that had finally cornered its prey.
“Miss Rosalind,” I gasped, instinctively stepping back to block her view of the bedroom where Mia slept. “Mr. Vincent told you to leave.”
“Oh, I left the main house,” Rosalind smiled, a chilling, venomous expression. “But I couldn’t leave the property without saying goodbye to the new co-owner of the Hale Estate.”
She pushed past me, forcing her way into the small kitchenette.
“Get out,” I said, finding a sudden surge of courage. “If you don’t leave, I’ll scream for Vincent.”
“Scream all you want, Clara,” Rosalind said casually, leaning against my cheap countertops. “Vincent is busy on the phone with his lawyers, celebrating a victory that doesn’t exist.”
My stomach plummeted. “The trust requires my signature. You can’t take the restaurant.”
“You’re right,” Rosalind agreed, pulling a folded piece of paper from her coat pocket. “My father found the dual-trust clause six months ago. We knew Teresa’s signature wouldn’t be enough. We knew we needed Elena Ellis’s heir to sign off as well.”
She looked around the cramped, dingy apartment with a look of absolute disgust.
“It took me three months to track you down, Clara. Living in a shelter, working two minimum-wage jobs, struggling to feed that little brat of yours.”
“Don’t talk about my daughter,” I growled, stepping toward her.
“I was the one who made sure your application crossed the desk of the estate manager,” Rosalind smiled cruelly. “I got you this job. I brought you right into my web so I could keep an eye on you until it was time.”
She unfolded the paper and tossed it onto the kitchen table.
“What is this?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“It’s your employment contract, Clara,” Rosalind said. “The one you signed eleven months ago when you were desperate, starving, and willing to sign anything to put a roof over your daughter’s head.”
I stared at the paper. It had my signature at the bottom.
“I signed a non-disclosure agreement and a background check consent,” I said, defending myself.
“You signed a seventy-page digital packet on an iPad,” Rosalind corrected smoothly. “And tucked away on page forty-two was a very specific, legally binding clause.”
She pointed a manicured finger at a highlighted paragraph.
“‘The Employee hereby relinquishes, transfers, and assigns any and all inherited equity, land rights, or trusts associated with the Hale Estate to the primary employer, Rosalind Thorne, as a condition of housing and employment.’”
The air rushed out of my lungs.
I reached out and grabbed the paper, my eyes scanning the legal jargon. It was there. It was actually there. She had hidden a transfer of my mother’s legacy inside a standard employment contract.
“You forged this!” I cried, tears of panic spilling down my cheeks.
“It has your digital signature, Clara, notarized by my father,” Rosalind smiled triumphantly. “It’s perfectly legal. I already own your half of the land. Once Teresa signed her half tonight, the entire estate defaulted to Thorne Holdings.”
I fell into the kitchen chair, the paper shaking in my hands. We were ruined. Vincent was ruined. My mother’s sacrifice was gone.
Rosalind leaned over the table, her face inches from mine, her eyes burning with malice.
“Vincent has until Friday to vacate the restaurant,” Rosalind whispered. “But you, Clara? You and your little rat of a child have until morning to pack your bags and get off my property.”
She turned and walked toward the door, leaving me paralyzed in despair.
But as she reached for the doorknob, the door violently swung open from the outside, nearly knocking Rosalind off her feet.
Standing on the landing, breathing heavily, his dark eyes ablaze with a terrifying, protective fury, was Vincent.
May you like
And he was holding a heavy, leather-bound book in his hands.
“She’s not going anywhere, Rosalind,” Vincent snarled, stepping into the apartment and towering over his ex-fiancée. “Because this employment contract is a fraud. And I can prove it.”
