Chapter 3 - The Gathering Storm
“Mr. Duarte, what are your orders?” Vance asked quietly, glancing sideways at me. He had worked for me for over a decade; he knew the cold, calculating reputation I held in the corporate world. He knew what happened when someone crossed me in business. But this wasn't business. This was my flesh and blood.
“Not yet,” I whispered, my eyes locked on the monitor where Patricia was now pouring herself a glass of expensive vintage wine from my private cellar, celebrating her apparent freedom. “If I walk up there right now, she’ll spin a lie. She’ll lawyer up, she’ll claim it’s a misunderstanding, or worse, she’ll manipulate the girls into silence out of fear of retaliation. We don't just kick her out. We dismantle her entirely.”
For the next six hours, I sat in that basement bunker acting as both a grieving father and an executioner. I had Vance pull every financial record, communication log, and background check on Patricia. What we uncovered was staggering. Patricia wasn't a successful heiress as she had claimed; she was a professional socialite with a history of preying on wealthy, distracted executives, systematically isolating them from their families, draining their liquid assets through fraudulent prenuptial clauses, and moving on before her true nature was exposed. She had almost succeeded with me. She had convinced me to sign a revised prenuptial agreement just last week—one that would have granted her twenty million dollars and a stake in my primary holding company in the event of a separation.
The wedding was scheduled for next month.
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On the screen upstairs, I watched Rosa bring a fresh plate of cut fruit to the girls in the playroom, crouching down to share a quiet, tender laugh with them. Daniela actually smiled—a rare, genuine smile that I hadn't seen on her face in months. My chest tightened with a suffocating ache. How could I have been so blind? How could I have prioritized board meetings, corporate image, and a polished engagement over the safety of my own daughters?
“Vance,” I said, standing up from the chair, my suit jacket feeling suddenly heavy on my shoulders. “Prepare the main drawing room. Have my personal attorney arrive through the service entrance by 8:00 PM. And bring Rosa to the security office. It’s time to change the rules of the game.”
