Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN AT THE HEAD OF THE TABLE
Victoria Russo had never liked me.
That was not a secret.
She considered Bellamys soft because our money came from hotels rather than concrete, freight yards, gambling rooms, and whatever else the Russo family preferred not to print in annual reports.
She smiled beautifully at our wedding.
Then told me during the reception:
“Dominic needs a wife who understands silence.”
I had answered:
“Then he married poorly.”
We had been politely hostile ever since.
But planning to remove her own son from the company?
That was different.
I did not immediately believe the caller.
Dominic did.
When I told him, he went silent.
“What?”
“She knows the trust better than Luca.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s involved.”
“No.”
“You sound like you think she is.”
Dominic walked to the window.
“My mother has been angry since I refused to make Luca president.”
“Why?”
“Because Luca is her sister’s son.”
Family loyalty.
The Russo disease.
“Would she destroy your marriage for him?”
He looked at me.
“She might believe the marriage is already destroying me.”
That landed harder than I expected.
“What does that mean?”
“She thinks I changed after marrying you.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
I folded my arms.
“Careful.”
“I stopped doing things her way.”
That was different.
“She blames me.”
“She thinks you made me weak.”
“Did I?”
“No.”
He looked directly at me.
“You gave me something to lose.”
For one dangerous second, the conspiracy disappeared.
Then his phone rang.
Marco Santori, Dominic’s security chief.
“We found something.”
At Russo headquarters, someone had entered Dominic’s private floor at 3:14 using the stolen card.
Security cameras had conveniently malfunctioned.
But the parking garage hadn’t.
Madison arrived in Luca’s car.
She left twenty-eight minutes later.
Alone.
Luca never entered the building.
“Who did she meet?” I asked.
Marco brought up a service-elevator camera.
At 3:19, Madison entered.
At 3:20, another person stepped inside before the doors closed.
Victoria Russo.
Dominic stared at his mother’s face.
No one spoke.
The footage showed Victoria handing Madison a slim red envelope.
Then Madison handed her Dominic’s stolen card.
My husband’s expression became completely empty.
That frightened me more than anger.
At 9:15, Victoria walked into Bellamy headquarters without an appointment.
My receptionist nearly had a heart attack.
I let her upstairs.
She entered my office dressed in camel wool and pearls, looking as though she were arriving for brunch rather than being caught on camera during a corporate conspiracy.
“Grace.”
“Victoria.”
She sat without invitation.
“Where’s Dominic?”
“Not here.”
“Good.”
That surprised me.
She placed her purse beside the chair.
“You staged the photographers this morning.”
“No. They arrived themselves. I merely gave them something to photograph.”
A faint smile appeared.
“I underestimated you.”
“Most people do before breakfast.”
“Dominic told me you had a mouth.”
“I’m sure he used warmer words.”
Victoria’s smile vanished.
“You should leave him.”
There it was.
“Why?”
“Because he is destroying himself.”
“How?”
“He’s trying to turn a family empire into a respectable corporation.”
I stared.
“That sounds terrible.”
“You think this is funny because you were raised in clean money.”
“My grandfather bribed zoning boards.”
She blinked.
“Grace.”
“Every fortune has dirt. The question is whether you keep digging after you know where it is.”
Victoria studied me.
“Dominic’s father understood power.”
“His father died before Dominic took over.”
“And Dominic inherited obligations.”
“Which ones?”
She did not answer.
I leaned forward.
“Why did you meet Madison at 3:20 this morning?”
For the first time, Victoria lost control of her expression.
Only slightly.
Enough.
“Dominic showed you footage.”
“My hotel showed me footage.”
Her eyes hardened.
“She wasn’t supposed to post that photograph.”
Interesting.
“So you admit meeting her.”
“I admit nothing.”
“You just did.”
She stood.
“You are playing with structures you do not understand.”
“Then educate me.”
“The North River project must stay inside the Russo family.”
“It is.”
“No. Dominic plans to bring in institutional investors.”
“So?”
“So once outsiders own enough, the old family loses control.”
“And?”
Her eyes became cold.
“You truly do not understand us.”
“No, Victoria.”
I stood too.
“I understand perfectly. You don’t care whether Dominic succeeds. You care whether he obeys.”
She moved toward the door.
I stopped her with one question.
“What was in the red envelope?”
She froze.
Then left.
At eleven, our forensic team obtained access logs from Dominic’s private board archive.
Madison had downloaded only three files.
The succession clause.
North River financing structure.
And a document titled BELLAMY-RUSSO MARITAL SETTLEMENT AGREEMENT.
I frowned.
“What agreement?”
Dominic looked equally confused.
“We don’t have one.”
We opened it.
My signature was on page seventeen.
Dominic’s on page eighteen.
Both forged.
The agreement stated that in the event of infidelity by either spouse, I would relinquish my Bellamy voting proxy in Russo Urban in exchange for a nine-figure settlement.
There it was.
The real objective.
They did not merely want me to divorce Dominic.
They needed me to surrender my voting stake.
Madison’s selfie created the scandal.
The forged settlement provided the legal pathway.
Luca would become temporary chairman.
My proxy would disappear.
North River could be transferred to Vale.
Beautiful.
Except they had made one mistake.
I had never signed anything without initialing page seventeen in blue ink.
My father taught me when I was sixteen.
Every major document.
Page seventeen.
Blue ink.
It was absurd.
It had also saved Bellamy Hotels from two fraudulent agreements after his death.
The forged signature was black.
“Amateurs,” I whispered.
Dominic almost smiled.
Then Marco entered.
He carried a photograph.
“We found the anonymous caller.”
“Who?”
“A junior accountant named Daniel Cho.”
“Why call me?”
“He discovered payments from Vale Strategic.”
“To who?”
Marco put down a spreadsheet.
Three million dollars divided among shell corporations.
One connected to Stephen Ward.
One to Madison.
And one to a trust.
Dominic read the beneficiary name.
His face changed.
“Elena Russo.”
Luca’s wife.
I stared.
“So Elena knows?”
Marco shook his head.
“We don’t know.”
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
“What?”
His eyes lifted toward us.
“Where?”
A pause.
“Keep police there.”
He hung up.
“What happened?” Dominic asked.
“Daniel Cho was supposed to meet us at noon.”
“Yes?”
“Someone found his car beneath the Wabash bridge.”
My stomach tightened.
“Is he inside?”
“No.”
“Then where is he?”
Marco looked grim.
“Missing.”
Before anyone could speak, my phone buzzed.
A message from Madison.
One photograph.
Daniel sat in a chair somewhere dark.
Alive.
Terrified.
Below it were five words.
DROP THE PROXY OR HE DISAPPEARS.
Dominic looked at me.
“You’re dropping it.”
“No.”
“Grace.”
“No.”
“A man’s life—”
“Will not be saved by giving kidnappers three billion dollars.”
“What do you propose?”
I stared at the photograph.
Then noticed something reflected in the window behind Daniel.
A gold crown.
Not a crown.
A logo.
One I knew better than Madison ever could.
Bellamy Grand Hotel.
Closed for renovation.
Twenty minutes from us.
I grabbed my coat.
Dominic moved with me.
“Where are you going?”
“To my hotel.”
His expression darkened.
“Not without me.”
I looked at him.
“Good.”
May you like
For once, I had no objection.
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