Chapter 7 - The War of Roses and Thorns
The sheer audacity of Victoria’s claim was like a bomb going off in the center of our lives. Within twenty-four hours, the estate had transformed from a sanctuary into a heavily fortified battleground. Dominic’s team of ruthless corporate lawyers descended upon the mansion, turning the formal dining room into a war room filled with shredded documents, legal precedents, and empty coffee cups. Victoria, utilizing a horrifyingly airtight legal loophole in international maritime law and Monaco’s marital statutes, had secured an emergency injunction. She couldn't kick Dominic out, but she had secured the legal right to reside in the estate’s East Wing until the courts untangled the massive web of the Rossi-Vance merger.
She had moved in with an army of her own staff, acting entirely as if she owned the place. And her favorite pastime was trying to break my spirit.
It was a Thursday evening, and Dominic had insisted we hold a formal dinner to project strength and normalcy, especially for Carmela’s sake. The tension in the grand dining room was palpable. The crystal chandeliers glittered above us, reflecting off the polished silverware. I sat beside Dominic, wearing a sleek, elegant black dress, my posture perfectly rigid. Carmela sat at the head of the table, her eyes darting nervously between Dominic and the unwelcome guest. Victoria sat directly across from me, picking at her caviar with a silver fork.
"The soup is dreadfully cold," Victoria sighed loudly, dropping her spoon onto the china bowl with a sharp clatter. She looked directly at me, her eyes flashing with malicious amusement. "Skylar, be a dear and run down to the kitchens to fetch a fresh bowl? Oh, wait. My apologies. I keep forgetting you’ve been promoted from the scullery. Old habits die hard, don't they?"
Dominic’s fork snapped in half in his hand. The sharp crack echoed through the silent room. He stood up, his eyes burning with a rage so terrifying it made the waitstaff step back against the walls. "Say one more word to my fiancée," Dominic rumbled, his voice dangerously low, "and I will have Elias throw you out into the street by your hair, injunction be damned."
"Dominic, please," I said softly, placing my hand over his trembling fist. I did not break eye contact with Victoria. I refused to let her see me bleed. I slowly stood up from my chair, keeping my movements graceful and deliberate.
"You don't need to apologize, Victoria," I said, my voice calm, smooth, and carrying perfectly across the long table. "It is completely understandable that you are confused. After all, you have been pretending to be a corpse at the bottom of the ocean for the last three years while your father faced federal racketeering charges. Hiding like a coward while other people fight your battles must severely stunt a person's social graces."
Victoria’s smug smile instantly vanished, replaced by a mask of sheer, unadulterated fury. Her pale cheeks flushed crimson.
"I know exactly who I am," I continued, leaning slightly forward, resting my palms on the mahogany table. "I am the woman who saved Carmela's life while you were sipping margaritas in hiding. I am the woman Dominic actually chose. You are nothing but a legal clerical error, Victoria. A ghost trying to haunt a house that no longer belongs to her. Enjoy the cold soup."
Carmela let out a small, delighted chuckle from the head of the table. Dominic stared at me, his anger melting into an expression of profound, burning awe and overwhelming love.
Victoria abruptly stood up, nearly knocking her antique chair over. "You have no idea what you are dealing with, you little gold-digging rat. The Rossi empire is bleeding. Dominic is stretched thin. You think my return is a coincidence? I will strip him of everything he owns, and when he has nothing left, you'll go running back to whatever trailer park you crawled out of."
She stormed out of the dining room, her heels clicking aggressively against the marble floors.
Later that night, in the quiet safety of our bedroom, Dominic held me against his chest, his fingers gently stroking my hair. The fire cracked in the hearth, casting long shadows across the walls.
"She wasn't lying about the company bleeding," Dominic confessed quietly, resting his chin on the top of my head. "Since Bianca and Marcus went to prison, our stock has been volatile. We are fending off hostile takeover attempts every day. Victoria’s father, Richard Vance, owns the largest shipping conglomerate in Europe. If they prove this marriage is valid, Richard gets a seat on my board. He will gut the Rossi corporation from the inside out and sell the pieces to the highest bidder."
"She said her return wasn't a coincidence," I murmured, my mind racing, tracing patterns on Dominic's chest. "She didn't just decide to resurrect herself because she missed you, Dominic. Someone tipped the Vance family off. Someone told them the Rossi empire was vulnerable."
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Dominic stiffened, looking down at me. "Bianca," he whispered. "Bianca is in federal prison, but she still has a network. If she sold the information about the Monaco marriage loophole to Richard Vance..."
"Then Victoria isn't just an ex-fiancée out for revenge," I said, my blood running cold as the pieces clicked together. "She’s a corporate assassin. And she brought a Trojan horse into our home."
