Chapter 3 - Vincent Demands Complete Answers About The Past
Vincent stood up slowly, towering over the crowd as his dark eyes locked onto his mother’s tear-stained face.
“You told me she died in the hospital after the rescue, Mom,” Vincent said, his voice dangerously cold and flat.
“The police... the hospital records... they all said her body was never recovered from the ashes,” Eleanor sobbed.
Claire pulled the torn fabric of her service uniform tightly across her chest, her mind spinning with terrifying disbelief.
“I was nineteen years old living in a shelter in Chicago when I found her hiding in that bathtub,” Claire stated.
“I raised her until she was old enough to live on her own, never knowing she belonged to the Morettis.”
Vincent turned his gaze toward Vanessa, who stood near the buffet table looking as if she had swallowed glass.
“And you,” Vincent whispered, stepping toward his fiancée with an expression that made her recoil in pure terror.
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“Vincent, you can’t possibly believe this emotional fairy tale invented by a plus-size maid!” Vanessa shrieked defensively.
“Shut your mouth, Vanessa,” Vincent commanded, his voice carrying the weight of a multi-billion-dollar empire.
