Chapter 3 - The Missing Page in Their Marriage ContractVictor returned to the DeLuca estate to find twelve guards unconscious, two dead, and his mother's private wing empty.
Adrian had planned the abduction from inside.
That was obvious now.
What Victor could not understand was how many others had helped him.
The deeper question was worse.
How long had Adrian been waiting?
Three years?
Fifteen?
Victor stood inside Isabella's bedroom while forensic teams searched.
Her reading glasses lay broken beside the bed.
One slipper had been abandoned near the doorway.
On the nightstand sat a half-finished cup of tea.
Ordinary objects.
That made Victor angrier than blood would have.
His mother had been taken from the one place she believed untouchable.
His home.
Marco entered behind him.
“We lost Adrian's phone signal near the industrial district.”
Victor turned.
“Search every property he owns.”
“Already happening.”
“His companies.”
“Yes.”
“Mistresses.”
“Yes.”
“Doctors.”
Marco nodded.
Victor walked toward the shattered window.
“Find everyone he's ever trusted enough to disappoint.”
Marco almost smiled.
“That could take a while.”
“Then start with family.”
Victor's phone remained silent.
Adrian would call again.
Men like Adrian always did.
They needed audiences.
What Victor did not expect was Emily.
At 9:12 p.m., an unknown number appeared on his private phone.
Victor answered instantly.
“Emily?”
Silence.
Then her voice.
“You found the bank box.”
His entire body tightened.
“Where are you?”
“You found it?”
“Yes.”
“Did you listen to the recording?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know Adrian has been stealing from your family.”
“Emily, where are you?”
Another silence.
Victor heard faint traffic behind her.
“He has your mother.”
“I know.”
“That wasn't supposed to happen.”
Victor's anger flared.
“What exactly was supposed to happen?”
“I was supposed to disappear.”
“After getting shot?”
“I didn't plan the shooting.”
“But you expected trouble.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Her answer came quickly.
“Would you have believed me?”
Victor opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Emily gave a humorless laugh.
“That's what I thought.”
“Tell me where you are.”
“No.”
“My mother is missing.”
“Which is why you need to listen instead of ordering me around.”
Nobody spoke to Victor like that.
Under other circumstances, he might have admired it.
Now he simply said, “Talk.”
“Adrian wants the second ledger.”
“You have it?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Safe.”
“Bring it to me.”
“No.”
Victor's temper snapped.
“Emily—”
“If I give it to you before Isabella is safe, Adrian kills her.”
“He may kill her anyway.”
“I know him better than you think.”
Victor became quiet.
“How?”
“My father knew Adrian was moving money through shell companies. He confronted him.”
Victor remembered Sister Margaret.
“You saw Adrian after your father's funeral.”
Emily stopped breathing.
“You've been talking to Margaret.”
“Yes.”
“What did she tell you?”
“That men searched your house.”
Silence.
“Emily.”
“I recognized one of them.”
“Adrian.”
“Yes.”
Victor closed his eyes.
“You were seventeen.”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing.”
“To whom? The police officers paid by your family? Your father's men? Adrian's friends?”
Victor had no answer.
Emily continued.
“My father had already told me that if anything happened, I should never trust anyone wearing a DeLuca ring.”
Victor looked at his own hand.
The family signet rested on his finger.
“So you married me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She hesitated.
“Not over the phone.”
“Then meet me.”
“No.”
“Emily.”
“Victor, I'm injured, exhausted, and trying to keep your mother alive. I don't have the energy to argue.”
It was the first time she had used his first name in years.
He noticed immediately.
His voice changed.
“How bad is the wound?”
“Manageable.”
“Hale says you could have nerve damage.”
“I know.”
“You removed the bullet yourself.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because bullets are evidence.”
Victor looked toward Marco.
“Evidence of what?”
“The rifle that fired it belongs to a security contractor Adrian controls.”
Victor's eyes hardened.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“That bullet could prove it.”
“If the chain of custody holds.”
“You thought of chain of custody while bleeding on the floor?”
“Occupational habit.”
Despite himself, Victor almost laughed.
Then he remembered his mother.
“Where is the second ledger?”
Emily exhaled.
“Part of it is not a ledger.”
“What?”
“My father encoded account numbers in letters he wrote me from work.”
Victor frowned.
“Letters?”
“He was afraid Adrian would search documents. So he hid numbers inside birthday letters, recipes, books, anything that looked harmless.”
Victor thought of Emily's apartment.
Books.
Handmade gifts.
Simple things nobody important would notice.
Just like Emily herself.
“Did my father know?”
“Some of it.”
“Then why marry me?”
“I told you. Not over the phone.”
A sound came through the line.
Victor became alert.
“What's that?”
“Nothing.”
“Emily.”
“Someone's here.”
“Where are you?”
The call ended.
Victor stared at the screen.
“Trace it.”
Marco handed the number to the technical team.
“They'll try.”
Victor called back.
Disconnected.
Within minutes, they narrowed the signal to an area near the old freight district.
Victor was already moving.
Marco followed.
“You're assuming it's her.”
“It is.”
“You're assuming this isn't a trap.”
“It probably is.”
“Excellent.”
Victor entered the elevator.
“Bring twenty men.”
The freight district had been half-abandoned for years.
Warehouses stood beside rusted rail lines.
Victor's convoy split across four streets.
The phone signal led toward an old community clinic scheduled for demolition.
Victor entered through the rear.
Blood marked the floor.
Fresh.
His stomach tightened.
“Emily!”
No answer.
He found a treatment room.
Open antibiotics.
Bandages.
A bloody shirt.
One of Emily's.
Victor touched the fabric.
Still warm.
Then a voice came from the hallway.
“Drop the gun.”
Victor turned.
Emily stood ten feet away holding a pistol.
Her left shoulder was bandaged beneath an oversized black jacket.
Her face was pale.
Her hair had been cut shorter since the gala.
And her hand was steady.
Victor looked at the gun.
“You're pointing that at me.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't know who came with you.”
“My men.”
“Exactly.”
Victor understood.
She did not trust the DeLuca organization.
Not even now.
“Marco.”
Victor called toward the doorway.
“Stay outside.”
Marco answered, “You're kidding.”
“Outside.”
After a pause, footsteps retreated.
Victor looked back at Emily.
“Happy?”
“No.”
She lowered the pistol anyway.
Victor crossed the distance between them.
Emily stepped backward.
He stopped.
That hurt more than he expected.
“Let me see the wound.”
“No.”
“I'm not asking as your husband.”
“Good, because you've never behaved like one.”
The words landed.
Victor let them.
“You're right.”
Emily looked surprised.
He continued.
“I found the gifts.”
Her face changed.
“You searched my apartment.”
“Yes.”
“I told you not to look for me.”
“I ignored you.”
“That isn't new.”
Victor's jaw tightened.
“Why didn't you give them?”
“The gifts?”
“Yes.”
Emily shrugged carefully.
“Because it would have looked like I was trying too hard.”
“To whom?”
“You.”
Victor stared at her.
She looked away.
“Every time I did something kind for your family, you treated it like a contractual obligation.”
“I didn't know.”
“You didn't ask.”
The same accusation again.
Because it was true.
Victor took one step closer.
This time she did not retreat.
“Why did you marry me?”
Emily closed her eyes briefly.
“When my father died, your father helped me.”
Victor listened.
“He paid the mortgage anonymously until I finished school. He funded my nursing degree through a scholarship I later learned came from him.”
Victor's throat tightened.
“He promised Daniel.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't I know?”
“Because your father didn't trust anyone by then.”
“Not even me?”
“You were young. Angry. Ambitious.”
Victor gave a bitter laugh.
“I haven't changed much.”
Emily met his eyes.
“You have.”
He did not ask whether that was good.
She continued.
“Years later, Isabella found me.”
“My mother?”
“She knew about the promise.”
Victor slowly understood.
“She arranged the marriage.”
“No.”
“But—”
“Adrian suggested me first.”
Victor's face hardened.
Emily nodded.
“He wanted me close.”
“To watch you.”
“Yes.”
“To find your father's evidence.”
“Yes.”
Victor felt sick.
Emily continued.
“Your mother realized what he was doing. She came to me privately.”
“What did she ask?”
“To marry you anyway.”
Victor stared.
“Why?”
“Because she thought Adrian would stop hunting me if he believed I had no evidence.”
“And did he?”
“For a while.”
“You agreed to marry a man you barely knew because my mother asked you to?”
Emily smiled sadly.
“No.”
Victor's pulse changed.
“Then why?”
She took a breath.
“Because the first time I saw you, years before the contract, you didn't know I was watching.”
Victor frowned.
“Where?”
“Saint Gabriel's.”
He remembered almost nothing.
Emily did.
“Your father had just died. You came late at night. You were angry at everyone. You sat alone on the chapel steps.”
Victor's memory returned slowly.
A cold winter.
Funeral week.
He had been twenty-five.
“I was there?”
“You brought boxes of your father's coats.”
Victor looked away.
“I wanted them gone.”
“You gave them to the shelter.”
“That wasn't kindness.”
“Maybe not.”
Emily's voice softened.
“But then one of the boys asked why you looked sad.”
Victor closed his eyes.
He remembered.
A seven-year-old boy.
Too curious.
“You told him your father died,” Emily said.
Victor said nothing.
“The boy hugged you.”
His throat tightened.
“And you stood there like you didn't know what to do.”
Victor remembered that too.
“Then you hugged him back.”
Emily's eyes shone.
“That was the first time I thought Victor DeLuca might not be the monster everyone said he was.”
The room became quiet.
Victor looked at her.
“That's why you married me?”
“No.”
Emily's expression changed.
“I married you because Isabella needed help proving Adrian was betraying the family.”
Victor almost smiled at the correction.
“Of course.”
“But…”
He waited.
Emily's voice dropped.
“I agreed because I thought maybe the man on those chapel steps still existed.”
Victor felt the words like a wound.
“And?”
Emily looked at him for a long time.
“I stopped looking for him after the first year.”
Victor said nothing.
There was no defense.
Three years of indifference stood between them.
Then Emily reached into her pocket.
She removed a folded document.
Their marriage contract.
Victor recognized it immediately.
“What is that?”
“The copy your lawyers never saw.”
Emily opened to the final page.
An addendum.
Handwritten.
Signed by Isabella.
Signed by Emily.
Victor read it.
If evidence confirms that any member of the DeLuca family ordered the death of Daniel Carter, Emily Carter may dissolve the marriage immediately and receive full protection from Isabella DeLuca's personal trust.
Victor looked up.
“You planned your exit from the beginning.”
“I planned to survive.”
Then something crashed outside.
Gunfire erupted.
Emily grabbed Victor's arm.
“Get down!”
Bullets ripped through the clinic windows.
Victor pulled her behind a concrete wall.
His men returned fire.
Emily looked toward the rear door.
“They found me.”
“Adrian?”
“Maybe.”
Victor drew his weapon.
“You're coming with me.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“I am not leaving you here.”
“I can't go to your headquarters. Someone inside is still feeding him information.”
Victor knew she was right.
Another explosion shook the building.
He grabbed her hand.
“Then we go somewhere nobody in my organization knows.”
Emily stared at him.
“Does such a place exist?”
Victor thought of one.
A house his father had purchased under another name.
Nobody knew about it.
Not Marco.
Not Adrian.
Not Isabella.
Victor had not visited in fifteen years.
“Yes.”
Emily looked toward their joined hands.
Victor realized he was holding hers.
He did not let go.
Outside, men were dying for an empire he suddenly trusted less than the wounded woman beside him.
Victor looked at Emily.
“For once, you're going to trust me.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“That's ambitious.”
Victor almost smiled.
Then another burst of gunfire shattered the corridor.
He pulled her toward the back exit.
“Stay close.”
Emily followed.
Not because she trusted him.
May you like
Not yet.
But for the first time in three years of marriage, Victor DeLuca and his wife ran into danger together.
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