Chapter 3 - The Unraveling Strand
I tore the shaded sheet from the pad, folded it tightly, and shoved it deep into the hidden zipper pocket of my evening purse.
Just as I stepped away from the desk, the brass door handle of the suite began to turn.
Panic spiked through me. There was no time to reach the hallway door. I backed up quickly, slipping behind the heavy, floor-length velvet drapes that framed the open balcony doors, holding my breath as the door clicked open.
Footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor—heavy, deliberate, and fast.
Through the narrow crack between the velvet curtains, I watched Julian step into the room. His face was pale, his tie loosened at his collar. He looked around frantically before striding straight to the mahogany desk.
He pulled a small silver key from his pocket, unlocked the leather briefcase with two sharp clicks, and flipped the top open. He began frantically stuffing stacks of documents, a black passport folder, and several thumb drives into an inner coat pocket.
Then, his phone began to vibrate loudly on the desk.
Julian snatched it up, answering instantly in a low, panicked whisper. "We have a problem, Vic."
Vic. The name on the driver's license beneath the table. Victor.
Julian listened to the speaker for a few seconds, pacing the floor near the bed. "No, listen to me! I think the old woman saw the wallet. She was acting suspicious at the head table, and now I can't find her or the kid anywhere in the garden."
A voice rattled through the phone speaker—deep, angry, and sharp. Though I couldn't make out every word, the tone was unmistakable. It was Mark's voice. Or rather, Victor's real voice—devoid of the gentle, charming southern drawl he had used for the past eighteen months while courting my daughter.
"She’s just an old lady, Julian," the voice gritted through the speaker. "Don't lose your nerve now. The marriage certificate is already signed by the officiant. Once the county clerk receives it on Monday, the legal power of attorney over Kathleen's trust kicks in automatically under the pre-nuptial clause we slipped into the final draft."
"You don't get it, Vic!" Julian hissed, locking the briefcase back up. "Her mother isn't stupid. She was looking right at me. If she says something to Kathleen before we get the secondary signature on the asset transfer, the whole thing goes sideways."
"Then keep Kathleen distracted!" Victor ordered coldly over the line. "I’m taking her to the photo shoot near the cliff pavilion right now. No one else is up there. Get the car brought around to the side gate and make sure the luggage is loaded. We leave the moment the photo shoot wraps."
"What about the mother?" Julian asked, his voice dark.
"If she gets in the way," Victor answered callously, "make sure she stays quiet until we're on the boat."
The call disconnected.
Julian shoved his phone into his pocket, grabbed the briefcase, and rushed out of the suite, slamming the door behind him.
I stepped out from behind the velvet drapes, my entire body shaking with rage and fear.
They weren't just after her money. They were planning to isolate Kathleen at the cliff pavilion—a secluded, rocky overlook high above the ocean at the back of the hotel property—and force her to complete the asset transfer, or worse.
I looked at my watch. 8:45 PM. The photo shoot was scheduled for 9:00 PM.
I had less than fifteen minutes to stop my daughter from walking into a trap.
I reached into my purse, pulled out my phone, and dialed Kathleen’s mobile number. It went straight to voicemail. She had left her phone in the bridal suite to avoid distractions during the reception.
I dialed Sarah next. She answered on the second ring.
"Mom? I have Jaime. We're at my house, the doors are locked. What is going on?"
"Sarah, listen to me," I said, keeping my voice firm despite the panic threatening to choke me. "I need you to call your husband's brother—the one who works for the state police."
"David? Why? Mom, you're scaring me!"
"Tell David that Kathleen’s new husband is using a fraudulent identity. His real name is Victor Emanuel Rossi. He is attempting an illegal asset seizure and I believe Kathleen is in immediate physical danger at the Cliffside Pavilion at the Grand Horizon Hotel. Tell David to send patrol cars right now!"
"Oh my God," Sarah gasped. "Mom, where are you?"
"I'm going to Kathleen," I said. "Do not come back here, Sarah. Keep Jaime safe."
I hung up before she could reply.
May you like
I smoothed down my dress, took a deep, steadying breath, and walked out of the room. I was a sixty-two-year-old retired teacher facing two professional con artists. I didn't have weapons, and I didn't have physical strength.
But I had something they didn't account for: a mother's absolute refusal to let anyone harm her child.
