Chapter 6: The Woman Who Wanted the Crown
Clara stared at the name until the letters blurred.
*Vivian Castellano.*
The woman who had almost become Vincent Moretti’s wife.
The woman who had humiliated her in front of two hundred people.
The woman who had raised a leather strap and called her worthless.
Clara wanted to believe it was impossible.
She wanted to believe this was another misunderstanding.
Another secret.
Another piece of information twisted by years of fear and anger.
But Daniel Moretti’s handwriting was there.
The warning was there.
And the worst part was not the name.
The worst part was that Clara suddenly remembered Vivian’s expression when Vincent defended her.
Not embarrassment.
Not sadness.
Something darker.
Something like panic.
Clara closed the notebook.
“No.””
She whispered the word to herself.
Because if Vivian was connected to her father’s death, then nothing about the engagement party had been an accident.
Not the cruelty.
Not the anger.
Not the sudden appearance of the necklace.
Nothing.
The archive door opened.
Clara quickly turned.
Vincent walked in.
His face was tense.
“What happened?””
She looked at him.
For a moment, she considered saying nothing.
After all, she barely knew him.
But then she remembered the letter.
*Trust Vincent only if he chooses the truth over his inheritance.*
And so far, he had.
She handed him the notebook.
“I found something.””
Vincent took it.
His eyes moved across the page.
Then stopped.
The silence that followed was painful.
“No.””
Clara watched his reaction.
“You know her.””
He looked up.
“Of course I know her.””
“Vincent.””
He closed the notebook.
“Vivian is not capable of this.””
Clara’s expression changed slightly.
There it was.
The first instinct.
Not evidence.
Not logic.
Loyalty.
“She attacked me in front of your entire family.””
His jaw tightened.
“I know.””
“She treated me like I wasn’t human.””
“I know.””
“Then why are you defending her?””
Vincent looked away.
Because he knew Clara was right.
He wasn’t defending Vivian.
He was defending the version of her he had believed in.
The woman he thought he knew.
“She was my fiancée.””
Clara nodded slowly.
“That explains why you’re hurt.””
Vincent looked at her.
“But it doesn’t explain why you don’t believe what your father wrote.””
The words struck him.
Because they were true.
He looked down at the notebook again.
His father’s handwriting.
His father’s warning.
His father’s final investigation.
And Vivian’s name.
“I need proof.””
Clara folded her arms.
“Because you love her?””
The question surprised him.
He didn’t answer.
And the silence was enough.
Clara looked away.
“I understand.””
“No, you don’t.””
“Maybe I do.””
She touched the pendant around her neck.
“My mother spent years protecting someone who never came back.””
Vincent looked at her.
“She waited for my father?””
“No.””
Clara shook her head.
“She waited for the truth.””
The room became quiet.
Because Vincent realized something.
Clara was not looking for revenge.
She was looking for answers.
And maybe that made her more dangerous.
People seeking revenge could be controlled.
People seeking truth could not.
Vivian Castellano had spent her entire life preparing for rooms like this.
Rooms filled with powerful people.
Rooms where every smile hid a calculation.
Her family had taught her that wealth was not just about money.
It was about control.
Who entered.
Who left.
Who spoke.
Who stayed silent.
And tonight, for the first time, she had lost control.
She sat across from her father in the Castellano private dining room.
Antonio Castellano was a man who built his reputation through patience.
He never raised his voice.
Never showed fear.
Never reacted emotionally.
Which was why Vivian knew he was furious.
“You embarrassed yourself.””
The words were calm.
That made them worse.
Vivian stared at him.
“I was protecting my future.””
Antonio looked at her.
“By attacking a servant?””
“She’s not a servant.””
The answer came immediately.
Too quickly.
Her father noticed.
“You know who she is.””
Vivian looked away.
A mistake.
A tiny mistake.
But enough.
Antonio leaned back.
“Tell me.””
Silence.
“Vivian.””
She finally spoke.
“She’s Daniel Moretti’s daughter.””
Her father’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Vivian saw it.
“You knew.””
Antonio didn’t respond.
“You knew.””
“I knew there was a possibility.””
The room felt colder.
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
“Because you were emotional.””
Vivian laughed.
“Emotional?””
“You were about to marry Vincent.””
“And?””
“And you were too close.””
She frowned.
“Too close to what?””
Antonio looked at her.
“The truth.””
Vivian stared.
“What truth?””
Her father stood.
“Some doors should remain closed.””
“That’s not an answer.””
“It is the only answer you need.””
Vivian hated that.
She hated when people spoke to her like she was a child.
“I lost Vincent because of this.””
Antonio’s expression remained cold.
“You lost Vincent because you showed him exactly who you were.””
The words hurt.
Because they were cruel.
But because they were true.
Vivian stood.
“I want her gone.””
Antonio studied her.
“Careful.””
“I’m serious.””
“So am I.””
He stepped closer.
“Clara Reyes is no longer an outsider.””
Vivian’s eyes narrowed.
“What does that mean?””
“It means hurting her would be a mistake.””
“Why?””
Antonio looked toward the window.
“Because if she is Daniel’s daughter, then she has rights.””
Vivian went silent.
Rights.
Inheritance.
Power.
The thought made her stomach twist.
“So what do we do?””
Antonio’s answer was immediate.
“We find out what she knows.””
“And if she knows too much?””
Her father looked at her.
“Then we make sure she never learns the rest.””
Vincent spent the next several hours reviewing every document connected to his father’s death.
He barely noticed the time passing.
The coffee on his desk went cold.
The city outside became dark.
Every answer created three more questions.
At midnight, Richard entered the office.
“You need rest.””
Vincent didn’t look up.
“My father died because someone wanted something.””
Richard remained silent.
“And I spent twenty years thanking the people who benefited from it.””
“Vincent.””
He finally looked up.
“Did my grandfather know?””
Richard’s silence answered.
Vincent closed his eyes.
“Everyone knew.””
“No.””
Richard stepped forward.
“Not everyone.””
“Who didn’t?””
Richard hesitated.
Then:
“You.””
Vincent looked at him.
“You were a child.””
“A child who inherited everything.””
Richard looked away.
“There are things about that night you were never told.””
Vincent stood.
“What things?””
Richard reached into his pocket.
He pulled out an old key.
“I found this in Daniel’s office years ago.””
Vincent stared.
“Why didn’t you give it to me?””
“Because I promised your father.””
“You keep saying that.””
Richard looked at him.
“Because before he died, Daniel told me something.””
Vincent waited.
“He said if anything happened to him, I should protect two things.””
“What?””
Richard held up the key.
“The evidence.””
A pause.
“And his daughter.””
Vincent looked toward the archive room.
Toward Clara.
“She’s the second thing.””
Richard nodded.
“Yes.””
Vincent took the key.
“What does it open?””
Richard looked at him.
“The one place your family never searched.””
The key opened a small safe hidden beneath the floor of Daniel Moretti’s old study.
A room untouched for decades.
Dust covered everything.
The air smelled like old paper and forgotten memories.
Vincent inserted the key.
The lock clicked.
Inside was a single envelope.
No documents.
No money.
Just a letter.
The handwriting was Daniel’s.
Vincent unfolded it.
His eyes moved across the page.
Then he stopped.
Clara stood beside him.
“What does it say?””
Vincent didn’t answer immediately.
Because the first line was addressed to him.
*Vincent, if you are reading this, then I failed to protect you.*
His hands tightened.
He continued.
*There is someone close to our family who has been lying to us for years.*
Clara leaned closer.
The next line made both of them freeze.
*It is not Matteo.*
Vincent looked up.
Because the entire night had pointed toward his uncle.
But Daniel had crossed out another name.
A name written beneath.
A name Vincent had never expected.
Clara whispered:
“Who is it?””
Vincent turned the letter around.
And there it was.
The truth Daniel Moretti died trying to reveal.
*Your mother knew.*
Vincent’s face went pale.
“My mother?””
Clara looked at him.
May you like
And for the first time since they discovered the secret…
Vincent looked afraid of the truth.
