Chapter 3 - THE HIDDEN COMPARTMENT
The auctioneer, Daniel, leaned over the glass case, his eyes wide.
“A locket?” he murmured. “We appraised this piece twice. There is no hinge. It’s a solid gold casing.”
“Look at the dent on the back,” Clara said, stepping closer to the table. “My father told my mother about it in his final letter from prison. He said the dent wasn't an accident. It’s a pressure release.”
Adrian didn't wait for the auctioneer. He reached into the glass case, his tattooed fingers gently lifting the heavy gold watch from the velvet pillow. He turned it over. The small, crescent-shaped dent caught the light of the chandelier.
“Adrian, don't do this,” Vanessa warned, her voice suddenly losing its venom, replaced by a tight, rising panic. “This is a charity event. The press is outside. If you open that, you are validating the delusions of the help.”
Adrian ignored her. He pressed his thumb hard into the small dent on the back of the casing, twisting the winding crown counter-clockwise at the same time.
A sharp click echoed in the silent room.
The back of the gold watch popped open on a hidden, microscopic hinge.
Several guests gasped. I held my breath, my hands trembling against my apron. I had never known what was inside. Thomas had only told me the watch was the key to our survival if things went wrong.
Adrian carefully extracted a tightly folded piece of translucent parchment paper from the hidden compartment. He unfolded it. It wasn't a child's drawing, and it wasn't a bank note.
It was a contract.
Adrian read it in silence. As his eyes scanned the faded ink, all the color drained from his face.
“Adrian?” Theodore Whitmore asked gently. “What is it?”
Adrian looked up, his eyes locking onto Vanessa. The warmth he usually held for her was entirely gone, replaced by the terrifying, cold calculation of a mafia boss.
“It’s a transfer of deed,” Adrian said, his voice deadly quiet. “Dated thirty-one years ago. Signed by my father and Thomas Bennett.”
“A deed to what?” Vanessa demanded, her perfectly contoured face pale.
“To the Vance Shipping Corporation,” Adrian replied.
A collective murmur of shock rippled through the forty millionaires at the table. Vance Shipping was Vanessa’s family’s company. It was the foundation of her wealth, the reason she was sitting at this table, and the crown jewel she was bringing into their impending marriage.
“That’s impossible,” Vanessa spat, standing up so fast her chair almost tipped over. “My father built that company from the ground up. The Morettis never owned it.”
“You’re right,” Adrian said. “My father didn't own it. According to this contract, my father purchased it using Thomas Bennett’s eighty thousand dollars... and put the entire corporation in Thomas Bennett’s name.”
Clara gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.
I felt the room spin. My husband hadn't just died in prison. He had died the legal owner of a billion-dollar shipping empire.
“My father knew he was going to be indicted,” Adrian explained, his voice echoing in the grand room. “He knew the government would freeze all Moretti assets. So he hid his most valuable new acquisition under the name of his most loyal employee. The man who was going to prison for him.”
He turned to Clara. “Your father didn't just leave you a gold chain, Clara. He left you Vance Shipping. You own Vanessa’s entire family fortune.”
Vanessa let out a sound that was half-scream, half-laugh. “This is a forgery! A pathetic, desperate forgery orchestrated by a bitter maid and a retired lawyer who wants a cut!”
She reached into her designer handbag, her hands shaking violently.
“You think you’ve won?” Vanessa hissed, pulling out a thick, sealed manila envelope. She threw it onto the mahogany table. It slid and hit the crystal candleholder.
“Margaret signed a Non-Disclosure and Severance Agreement ten years ago when I first started dating you, Adrian,” Vanessa said, a cruel, triumphant smile stretching across her face. “I paid her fifty thousand dollars from my personal account to sign away any and all historical claims against the Moretti estate. Including any claims from her late husband.”
Adrian looked at me, betrayal flashing in his dark eyes. “Margaret? Is this true? You took money from her?”
I stared at the envelope. My heart hammered against my ribs.
“I didn't take the money for myself,” I whispered.
“Then why did you sign it?” Adrian demanded.
May you like
I looked at Clara, who was staring at me in horror, and then back to Adrian.
“Because ten years ago,” I said, my voice breaking, “Vanessa discovered who actually orchestrated the federal raid that sent my husband to prison. And she told me if I didn't sign away my rights, she would have Clara killed.”
