Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Could Not Speak
Isabella Virelli did not sleep.
Marin knew because every time she checked the bedroom, Isabella’s eyes were open.
Vivien had finally left the east wing at nine twenty.
She claimed she needed to review floral arrangements.
Marin waited until her footsteps disappeared.
Then she locked the bedroom door.
Isabella immediately reached for the board.
Marin sat beside her.
“Dominic knows.”
Isabella’s hand stopped.
Her eyes widened.
“He heard Vivien threaten Eli.”
Isabella closed her eyes.
Relief moved across her face so visibly that Marin almost cried again.
“Eli is safe.”
Isabella’s eyes opened.
Marin smiled shakily.
“Dominic sent people to get him.”
Isabella squeezed Marin’s hand.
Then she started writing.
NOT SAFE YET.
Marin read it.
“What do you mean?”
Isabella erased the board.
She wrote slowly.
TOMORROW.
“What happens tomorrow?”
Isabella wrote:
PAPERS.
Marin frowned.
“The redevelopment papers?”
Isabella shook her head.
She wrote:
MY PAPERS.
Marin stared at her.
“What papers?”
Isabella pointed toward the old walnut secretary desk across the room.
Marin crossed to it.
The drawers were locked.
Isabella pointed toward her jewelry box.
Inside, beneath a strand of pearls, Marin found a tiny brass key.
She opened the desk.
One drawer contained stationery.
Another contained family photographs.
The bottom compartment held an envelope.
Marin opened it.
Inside was a photocopy of a legal document.
DURABLE POWER OF ATTORNEY.
The listed principal was Isabella Virelli.
The agent was Dominic Virelli.
Marin looked up.
“I don’t understand.”
Isabella tapped the paper.
Marin looked again.
At the bottom was an amendment.
If Dominic became unavailable or legally conflicted in matters involving Virelli family assets, secondary authority transferred to—
Marin’s blood went cold.
Vivien Morrow.
“This is real?”
Isabella shook her head violently.
Marin examined the signature.
It looked like Isabella’s.
Almost.
Then she saw the date.
Three weeks earlier.
“You didn’t sign this.”
Isabella shook her head.
Marin sat down.
“Vivien forged it?”
Isabella wrote:
TRIED.
“Where did this come from?”
Isabella wrote:
CHARLES.
Marin remembered the three names.
Vivien.
Mercer.
Charles.
“But why?”
Isabella erased the board.
Then wrote one word.
SHARES.
Marin did not understand.
Isabella became frustrated.
Her breathing quickened.
“Slow down.”
Marin put a hand on her arm.
“Take your time.”
Isabella pointed to a framed photograph on the desk.
A younger Dominic stood beside Isabella and a man Marin assumed had been Dominic’s father.
Behind them stood the original Virelli shipping headquarters.
Marin finally understood.
“Your shares in the company?”
Isabella nodded.
“How much do you own?”
Isabella wrote:
17%.
Marin stared.
Seventeen percent of Virelli Capital was worth hundreds of millions.
Possibly more.
“Vivien wants your shares?”
Isabella shook her head.
Then she wrote:
VOTE.
Marin’s pulse quickened.
She looked at the forged document again.
The redevelopment partnership.
Tomorrow’s announcement.
Charles Morrow.
Decision-making authority.
A voting block.
“Oh my God.”
Isabella nodded.
Marin took out her phone.
“I’m calling Dominic.”
Isabella grabbed her wrist.
Marin stopped.
“What?”
Isabella wrote quickly.
ROOM BUGGED.
Marin froze.
She looked around the bedroom.
The fireplace.
The lamps.
Medical equipment.
Flowers.
Pictures.
Vivien had known too much.
Maybe she had been listening for weeks.
Marin lowered her voice instinctively.
“Where?”
Isabella pointed upward.
The chandelier.
Marin’s stomach twisted.
They could not call Dominic.
They could not openly search.
Isabella took the board again.
She wrote:
OLD BELL.
Marin frowned.
Isabella pointed to the wall beside the bed.
An antique brass service bell button remained from when the mansion had been built nearly a century earlier.
Nobody used it.
Marin pressed it.
Nothing happened.
Isabella smiled faintly.
Then pointed down.
Marin understood.
The old wiring might run through the walls to the former servants’ corridor.
A place modern security might not monitor.
“You want me to use the old passage?”
Isabella nodded.
Marin had worked there fourteen months and had never known one existed.
Isabella wrote directions.
CLOSET.
LEFT PANEL.
Marin entered the dressing room.
Behind hanging coats, she found a narrow wooden panel.
It opened when she pushed the molding.
Cold air moved through the gap.
Beyond it was a narrow corridor.
Marin looked back.
Isabella wrote:
GO.
Marin slipped inside.
The passage smelled of dust and old wood.
She used her phone flashlight.
Thirty yards later, stairs descended.
The corridor ended behind another wooden panel.
Marin pushed.
She emerged inside a pantry beside the main kitchen.
No one saw her.
She texted Dominic one sentence.
DON’T CALL.
Then:
OLD PANTRY.
Two minutes later, Dominic entered through the opposite door.
He saw her face.
“What?”
Marin handed him the photocopy.
Dominic read it once.
Then again.
The change in him was frightening.
“This signature is fake.”
“Your mother says Charles brought it.”
“When?”
“She didn’t say.”
Dominic looked at the amendment.
Vivien as alternate power of attorney.
His voice was almost a whisper.
“She planned to control my mother’s vote.”
Marin nodded.
“Your mother wrote ‘tomorrow.’”
Dominic looked toward the ceiling.
“The shareholder resolution.”
“What?”
“The Morrow partnership needs board ratification after the public announcement.”
He suddenly understood.
“My mother controls seventeen percent.”
“Can that stop it?”
“With my shares?”
Dominic’s eyes hardened.
“Yes.”
Marin stared.
“So Vivien wasn’t only trying to force a blessing.”
“No.”
“The blessing makes it look like your mother supports the marriage.”
“And the partnership.”
Dominic folded the document.
“If my mother objected afterward, they could say her capacity had deteriorated.”
Marin’s face changed.
“And use the forged power of attorney.”
“Yes.”
Dominic turned away.
For the first time since hearing the call, he looked angry.
Not loud.
Not wild.
Wounded.
“She sat at my mother’s bedside.”
Marin said nothing.
“She brought her tea.”
Dominic looked at the document.
“She let me believe she loved her.”
He put the paper inside his jacket.
Then looked at Marin.
“Go back the way you came.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Find out how much of tomorrow belongs to Charles.”
Marin grabbed his sleeve.
“Dominic.”
It was the first time she had used his first name.
He looked at her.
“She knows where my son goes to school.”
“I know.”
“She has people.”
“I know.”
“If this gets bigger—”
“It already is bigger.”
His voice softened slightly.
“But Eli will not be exposed again.”
Marin studied him.
“You can’t promise that.”
“No.”
Dominic surprised her with the answer.
“I can promise every resource I have is between him and anyone who tries.”
That was different.
Not comforting.
Honest.
Marin released his sleeve.
Dominic started toward the door.
Then turned back.
“Did my mother tell you where the original forged document is?”
Marin shook her head.
“No.”
Dominic nodded.
“Then we need it.”
At that same moment, upstairs, Vivien Morrow quietly opened Isabella’s bedroom door.
Isabella looked toward her.
Vivien smiled.
“Where’s Marin?”
Isabella stared back.
Vivien’s smile disappeared.
She walked to the bed.
Then noticed the walnut desk.
One drawer was not completely closed.
Vivien stopped.
For three seconds, neither woman moved.
May you like
Then Vivien slowly turned her head toward Isabella.
“What did she find?”
