Chapter 3 - Shadows in the Boardroom
By morning, light dusted the snow-covered rooftop of the Manhattan penthouse.
Christmas Day in the Dart residence was unlike any Christmas in recent memory. For the first time in over a year, the heavy black blackout drapes in the living room were drawn back, allowing bright, crisp sunlight to flood the marble floors and cream-colored sofas.
María woke up early. While she did not speak again immediately, the heavy, dark silence that had once hovered over her had lifted. She sat on the living room rug, wrapped in a plush blanket, holding her wooden music box while Marcello sat on the floor beside her—a sight that left Carmen, the head housekeeper, practically breathless with shock when she brought in the morning tea.
"Sir," Carmen whispered to Johana in the kitchen, her eyes wide. "In thirty years of working for the Dart family, I have never seen Mr. Marcello sit on the floor. Not even when his late wife was alive. He was always working, always on the phone."
"He's learning how to be a father again," Johana replied, setting fresh berries on a tray.
However, the peace of Christmas morning was abruptly shattered at ten o'clock when the private elevator chimed, opening directly into the penthouse foyer.
A tall, sharply dressed woman with ice-blond hair styled in a sleek bob stepped out. She wore a tailored camel-hair coat, black leather gloves, and carried a sleek crocodile-skin briefcase. Behind her stood Julian Vance, Marcello’s chief legal counsel and vice-president of Dart Enterprises.
The woman was Eleanor Vance—Julian’s sister, and the woman Marcello had originally hired to replace Johana. She was an internationally renowned child psychologist from London, known for her rigid, high-profile treatment programs for the children of the elite.
"Marcello," Eleanor said smoothly, her voice cool and clinical as she stepped into the living room, taking off her gloves. "I received your email attempting to cancel my retainer. I assume it was sent in error or under the influence of holiday stress."
Marcello stood up from the floor, smoothing his trousers. His expression instantly shifted back to his familiar, authoritative composure, though he kept one hand gently resting on María’s shoulder.
"It was not an error, Eleanor," Marcello said firmly. "My decision has changed. My daughter does not require your services."
Eleanor’s sharp eyes swept across the room, lingering for a moment on María, then landing heavily on Johana, who was standing near the dining table. A look of subtle disdain flashed across Eleanor’s face.
"Marcello, don't be naive," Eleanor said, stepping closer and speaking in a low tone that carried clearly across the quiet room. "Selective mutism following severe trauma is not solved by domestic sentimentality. I reviewed the case files Julian sent me. Your daughter’s condition is deteriorating. Leaving her in the care of an uncredentialed nanny is not only irresponsible, it is negligent."
Julian Vance stepped forward, adjusting his gold cufflinks. "Marcello, as your legal counsel and a major shareholder in Dart Enterprises, I must concur with Eleanor. The board of directors is already concerned about your extended leave of absence following the anniversary of Victoria’s death. Rumors of instability in your household affect market confidence. Bringing in a world-class specialist like Eleanor demonstrates control and progress."
Johana felt her blood boil. Market confidence? They were discussing a traumatized five-year-old child as if she were a quarterly earnings report.
Before Marcello could speak, a tiny hand reached out and grabbed Johana’s skirt.
María had stood up from the rug. She was looking at Eleanor and Julian with intense distrust, her small body trembling slightly. She didn't shrink away this time; instead, she moved closer to Johana, pressing herself against Johana’s side.
Johana placed a protective hand on María’s back, meeting Eleanor’s cold gaze with an unyielding look of her own.
"Miss Vance," Johana said, her voice calm but razor-sharp. "You speak of case files and metrics. But last night, without a single clinical assessment, María spoke her first word in fifteen months."
Julian gasped slightly, looking at Marcello. "She spoke?"
Eleanor’s eyes narrowed slightly, caught off guard for a fraction of a second before recovering her professional arrogance. "A single involuntary vocalization under stress is common in trauma cases. It is an echo, not a recovery. Without structured clinical intervention, she will regress."
"She didn't speak under stress, Eleanor," Marcello said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, dark register that made even Julian take half a step back. "She spoke because she felt loved. And as long as I am the CEO of Dart Enterprises and the father of this child, I decide who stays in this house."
Marcello stepped between Eleanor and Johana, pointing toward the private elevator.
"You have been paid your consultation fee in full, Eleanor. Take your briefcase, leave my home, and do not return."
Eleanor stared at Marcello for a long, tense moment. She slowly pulled her gloves back on, her face a mask of cold fury.
"You are making a catastrophic mistake, Marcello," she said quietly. "And when she regresses—when the board decides your personal life makes you unfit to run the company—don't say I didn't warn you."
She turned on her heel and stepped into the elevator, followed closely by a visibly nervous Julian.
As the elevator doors closed, the tension in the room evaporated, but the shadow of Eleanor’s words remained hanging in the air.
May you like
Johana looked down at María, then up at Marcello. "They won't leave this alone, will they?"
Marcello’s jaw set hard. "Julian has been eyeing my position on the board for three years. He thinks my daughter’s condition is my vulnerability." He looked at Johana, his eyes filled with a fierce, protective resolve. "But he underestimates what I will do to protect my family."
