Chapter 3
“You agreed I was right. That isn’t an apology.”
Vincent considered that.
“You’re right again.”
She stared at him.
## PART 2
“You’re right again.”
Elena stared at him.
Vincent Moretti had the irritating calm of a man who had spent his entire life in rooms where everyone else was afraid to raise their voice.
She was not afraid.
Not anymore.
“Say it properly.”
One eyebrow lifted.
“The apology.”
Vincent looked almost amused.
Then he saw her expression and the amusement disappeared.
“I’m sorry.”
“For?”
“For speaking about you as though you were something I could claim.”
“And?”
“For doing it publicly.”
“And?”
His jaw tightened.
Elena folded her arms.
Vincent exhaled.
“For assuming that protecting you gave me the right to make a decision for you.”
“Better.”
“Are we finished?”
“Not remotely.”
Despite everything, the corner of his mouth moved.
Elena hated that she noticed.
The sedan turned onto Madison Avenue.
Outside, Manhattan passed in gray sheets of rain.
Twenty minutes earlier, she had been standing before five hundred guests waiting to marry Adrian Vale.
Now she was sitting across from Vincent Moretti, the most feared man in the city, wearing a wedding dress worth more than most people’s cars while holding documents suggesting her own family had used her as collateral.
The absurdity should have broken her.
Instead, it made her angry.
“Tell me everything.”
Vincent’s expression changed.
Business now.
“Your father borrowed eighty-four million dollars eighteen months ago.”
Elena froze.
“From Vale Capital?”
“Initially from three lenders. Vale acquired the debt six months later.”
“For what?”
“To keep Marlowe Shipping solvent.”
“That makes no sense. We had a strong year.”
“You had a strong year.”
She frowned.
Vincent leaned forward.
“Your European division made money. Your Gulf routes made money. The company lost nearly sixty million through acquisitions authorized by your father.”
Elena’s stomach dropped.
“What acquisitions?”
“Companies controlled indirectly by Adrian’s father.”
She went still.
Vincent watched understanding arrive.
“They were draining us.”
“Yes.”
“And my father knew?”
“At first? I don’t think so.”
“At first.”
Vincent said nothing.
Elena’s voice hardened.
“What happened later?”
“Henry discovered it four months ago.”
“And?”
“He covered it up.”
She laughed once.
A terrible, empty sound.
“My father would never—”
Vincent slid another folder across the seat.
Elena did not touch it.
“I already know I’m not going to like that.”
“No.”
She opened it.
Emails.
Her father’s name.