Valentina paled. “How much?” Not outrage — fear. “How much should I have heard?”
He looked at Sophia. “What did you hear?” She glanced toward the doorway. “Where is Lena?” “With my staff downstairs,” he lied. “Tell me.”
“I was bringing Miss Ricci tea yesterday afternoon. The door was partly open. She was on the phone. She was talking about your schedule — the trip tomorrow. She told someone your car would leave through the south gate at seven fifteen. She told the person not to fail this time.”
“This time?” Sophia shook her head. “She said, ‘After tomorrow, everything becomes mine.'”
Valentina’s face drained of color. Inside Lorenzo, something turned to ice.
Three months earlier, one of his vehicles had been forced off a mountain road. He had survived because he switched cars at the last moment. Everyone believed it had been a rival family. No evidence ever proved it.
He had spent months hunting for the person responsible. Now a frightened maid was kneeling in Valentina’s room telling him his future wife knew exactly when his car would leave the estate.
“You misunderstood,” Valentina whispered. “Then explain it.” “I was planning something.” “What?” “A surprise.” “For my funeral?” “That’s cruel.” “Cruel? You threatened a six-year-old child to silence her mother.”
“You’re choosing them over me?” “This isn’t about choosing.” “It always is.”