Chapter 3 - The Broken Trust
By eight o'clock that evening, the quiet expanse of the Vance estate felt like a fortress under siege.
Guard dogs patrolled the perimeter fences, and private security personnel stood stationed at the front gate to keep the hovering news vans at bay. Inside, the house was warm and quiet. Rosalie had spent two hours in the upstairs bathroom with Livia, turning the ruined haircut into a sweet, stylish pixie cut that framed the little girl’s face beautifully.
When Livia finally came downstairs in her cozy flannel pajamas, she ran straight to the grand piano in the sunroom. She sat on the velvet bench and pressed a single middle C key, listening to the note echo through the high ceilings.
Alessandro sat down beside her on the bench, putting his arm around her tiny shoulders.
“It sounds just as beautiful as it did yesterday,” he murmured.
Livia nodded, resting her head against his arm. “Aunt Rosalie made my hair pretty again, Daddy. She said pixie cuts are for princesses who are brave.”
“Aunt Rosalie is right,” Alessandro said, kissing her temple. “You are the bravest person I know.”
A soft knock sounded at the sunroom archway. Rosalie stood there, holding a tablet and a steaming mug of tea.
“Livia, sweetie, it’s time for bed,” Rosalie said gently. “I set up the storybook about the magical forest in your room.”
Livia hugged Alessandro tightly around the neck before sliding off the bench. “Goodnight, Daddy. Thank you for stopping the clippers.”
“Goodnight, my sweet girl.”
Once Livia’s footsteps faded up the stairs, Alessandro’s warm expression disappeared. He stood up and turned to Rosalie. “What did Marcus find?”
Rosalie handed him the tablet. “It’s worse than we thought, Alessandro. Bianca wasn't working alone.”
Alessandro’s eyes narrowed as he scrolled through the encrypted files Marcus had sent over.
The digital audit revealed that Bianca had received internal legal assistance from within Alessandro’s own holding company. The private investigator who took photos of Alessandro outside the grief clinic had been paid via a wire transfer originating from an off-shore account registered to Arthur Pendelton—Alessandro’s chief financial officer and his late father's former business partner.
“Arthur?” Alessandro muttered, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Arthur helped her?”
“Arthur has been trying to liquidate Elena’s trust fund for three years,” Rosalie explained bitterly. “He wanted to invest those capital reserves into the risky European shipping venture you vetoed last fall. He knew that as long as you were Livia’s sole trustee, he could never touch a single dime. But if Bianca became Livia’s legal guardian through marriage…”
“…she could sign off on the trust liquidations on Livia’s behalf,” Alessandro finished the sentence, his fists clenching until his nails bit into his palms. “They planned this together from the very beginning. Bianca didn't meet me by accident at the charity gala last year. She was placed in my path.”
The sheer scale of the deception was sickening. They hadn't just targeted his wealth; they had targeted his grief, using his daughter as a hostage to force his financial surrender.
Suddenly, the front door intercom buzzed loudly.
Alessandro walked to the main security panel in the foyer and looked at the camera feed.
Standing at the iron gate outside, soaking in the sudden downpour of rain, was Bianca. She was still wearing her ruined white wedding dress, her hair plastered to her face, her makeup running down her cheeks in dark streaks. Beside her stood two lawyers holding leather briefcases.
She pressed the intercom button, her shrill, panicked voice blasting through the speaker.
“Alessandro! Open this gate right now! You ruined my life today! You dragged my name through the mud on national television! My family is disgraced!”
Alessandro pressed the talk button, his voice smooth, ice-cold, and entirely unbothered.
“You have three minutes to step away from my gate, Bianca, before estate security arrests you for trespassing and criminal harassment.”
“You think you can just discard me?!” Bianca shrieked into the camera, her eyes wide with unhinged fury. “I have rights! We signed a prenuptial draft! I spent a year of my life dealing with your pathetic, sniveling brat! You owe me millions!”
In the camera feed, two security guards stepped out from the gatehouse, their arms folded, their expressions stern.
Alessandro leaned into the microphone one last time. “The prenuptial draft was rendered void the moment you signed fraudulent guardianship papers. And if you ever call my daughter a brat again, I will ensure every financial institution in North America blacklists your family name before sunrise.”
May you like
He cut the intercom connection, turning off the video feed completely.
“Call Marcus,” Alessandro told Rosalie as he turned away from the door. “Tell him to release Arthur Pendelton's termination papers tomorrow morning at eight sharp. The war has just begun.”
