Chapter 2 - THE SIGNATURE ON THE CONTRACT
~900 words
The service kitchen fell completely silent. The sound of clinking glasses and laughter from the ballroom felt like it was coming from another planet.
Vincent’s dark eyes remained fixed on the third page.
Charlotte let out a breath that sounded like a dry laugh. “Vincent, sweetheart, you’re misunderstanding the paperwork. That’s just a proposal. A corporate restructuring of the charity—”
“This is a finalized contract,” Vincent said. His voice was terrifyingly calm. “It has a notary seal. It is signed. And it states that the Lily Romano Wing has been transferred to a private holding company.”
He looked up at her. “For one dollar.”
Charlotte’s perfectly painted lips parted, but no sound came out.
I stood near the sink, gripping the edge of the counter. June was trembling beside me, clutching her apron. I wanted to usher the elderly woman away, but I knew we couldn’t move. We were witnesses now.
“Vincent, the charity was bleeding money,” Charlotte finally managed, her voice dropping to a desperate whisper. “I was protecting your assets. The hospital didn't need that much space. I transferred it to a trust so we could manage it better.”
“Who is the holding company?” he asked.
“It’s just an LLC. A management firm.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed. He looked back at the document. “The Sterling Group.”
Charlotte flinched. It was a microscopic movement, but Vincent caught it. So did I.
“Who runs The Sterling Group, Charlotte?”
“I don't know the exact board members—”
Vincent pulled his phone from his tuxedo pocket. He didn’t break eye contact with her as he dialed a number. “Marcus. Come to the service kitchen. Now.”
Marcus was Vincent’s head of security. He appeared in the doorway less than thirty seconds later, a massive man in a tailored suit who looked at the cake in the garbage, then at June, and finally at Vincent.
“Sir?”
“Run a trace on a holding company called The Sterling Group. I want to know who the primary shareholder is.”
“No!” Charlotte lunged forward, grabbing Vincent’s arm. “Vincent, don't do this here. Not in front of the help. The guests are waiting for our toast!”
“The help,” Vincent repeated quietly, “just showed more respect for my daughter in five minutes than you have in two years.”
He pulled his arm away from her. The diamond engagement ring on her finger flashed under the harsh fluorescent lights of the kitchen.
Marcus stepped out into the hall to make the call.
“You’re ruining our night over a misunderstanding,” Charlotte hissed, her mask finally slipping. Her eyes darted toward June. “You old bat. You stole those documents from my office.”
“I didn't steal them,” June whispered, her voice shaking but defiant. “They were mailed to me.”
Vincent frowned. “Mailed to you? By who?”
June reached into her pocket again. She pulled out a small, silver charm bracelet.
The moment Vincent saw it, all the color drained from his face.
I didn't need anyone to tell me whose bracelet it was. The tiny silver charms—a ballet shoe, a star, a little dog—were tarnished but well-loved.
“It came with the hospital letters,” June said softly. “In a brown envelope. No return address. Just a note that said, ‘He needs to know.’”
Vincent took the bracelet with trembling fingers. “Lily lost this,” he whispered. “She lost this two months before she died. We searched the entire house. She cried for days.”
He looked up at Charlotte. The betrayal in his eyes was absolute. “She lost it at the hospital.”
Charlotte backed away, hitting the edge of the steel prep table. “I don't know anything about that. Someone is trying to set me up!”
Marcus reappeared in the doorway. He looked deeply uncomfortable.
“Sir. I ran the trace on The Sterling Group.”
“And?”
“It’s registered to a PO box in Manhattan. But the primary shareholder...” Marcus hesitated.
“Say it,” Vincent commanded.
“It’s registered to Arthur Vale, sir. Charlotte’s ex-husband.”
The kitchen spun. Charlotte’s ex-husband, a man she claimed had left her penniless and whom she despised, owned the holding company that had just stolen Lily’s hospital wing.
But before Vincent could react, Marcus stepped fully into the room and locked the door behind him.
“Sir,” Marcus said, his hand dropping to the holster at his waist. “There’s something else. The notary who signed that transfer document? They didn't just sign away the hospital wing.”
May you like
Vincent went completely rigid. “What did they sign away, Marcus?”
“The estate, sir. The deed to this house was transferred to The Sterling Group at noon today.”
