Chapter 4 - The Lion's Den
The Fierro Estate in Greenwich was a fortress of limestone and manicured cedar hedges, perched high on a bluff overlooking the sound. For three days, Lily and I lived in a sun-drenched east-wing suite that had more square footage than our entire apartment building.
Giovanni had provided a team of tailors, private tutors for Lily, and an entire medical library for me. Yet, despite the luxury, he remained an enigma—courteous, distant, and fiercely protective.
Until Thursday evening.
"My family holds an executive dinner every second Thursday," Giovanni said as we stood before the full-length mirror in the master dressing room. He was adjusting the emerald cufflinks I had given him—the only gift I could afford, bought with my last paycheck.
He was dressed in bespoke black. I wore a backless gown of deep emerald velvet that draped like liquid silk, a three-carat emerald pendant resting against my collarbone.
"Beatrice will be there," I noted, watching him in the glass.
"Beatrice, the senior board members, and your cousin Vanessa with Tyler," Giovanni replied calmly.
I snapped my head around. "Tyler? Why would they be there?"
"Uncle Richard is Beatrice’s brother. And Richard happens to be Vanessa’s father," Giovanni explained, fixing my gaze in the mirror. "They believe tonight is their opportunity to expose our marriage as a sham. They brought Tyler to prove you are a fraud incapable of navigating our world."
A cold determination settled into my ribs. "They think I'm still the terrified girl who had to let them win."
"Are you?" Giovanni asked, his eyes searching mine.
"I’ve revived infants with their chests open on a stainless-steel table while alarms blared in my ears, Giovanni. Your family is just a room full of suits with bad cholesterol."
For the first time since I met him, Giovanni smiled—a real, dazzling smile that made my pulse jump. "Remind me never to cross you, Mrs. Fierro."
When we entered the formal dining room of the estate, twenty heads turned simultaneously.
Tyler was seated halfway down the twenty-foot mahogany table, clutching a highball glass. Next to him, Vanessa wore a canary-yellow dress that seemed designed to scream money. At the head of the table sat Beatrice Fierro, flanked by a burly, gray-haired man whom I recognized as Uncle Richard.
"Ah, the blushing bride," Beatrice said, her tone dripping with venom. "We were beginning to think Giovanni was hiding you away because you couldn't find a gown that didn't come from a rack."
Vanessa let out a sharp titter. "Now, Aunt Beatrice, Jessica has had a very difficult life. When you raise a bastard child in a walk-up, etiquette isn't high on the priority list."
The room grew dead silent.
Tyler looked away, terrified of meeting Giovanni's eye. But Giovanni didn't speak. He pulled out my chair at the right side of the head of the table, his hand resting reassuringly on my bare shoulder.
I sat down, unfolded my linen napkin, and smiled sweetly at Vanessa.
"It’s wonderful to see you too, Vanessa," I said clearly. "I was actually just looking over the recent compliance reports for Richard’s logistics subsidiary. As the new head of the Fierro Family Charitable Trust, Giovanni gave me oversight of the foundation's corporate grants."
Uncle Richard’s fork froze in midair. "What did you say?"
"I noticed your transport fleet has failed three consecutive EPA particulate inspections in New Jersey," I said smoothly, sipping my sparkling water. "The fines are accumulating at fifty thousand dollars a day. Tyler, darling, wasn't that your division’s responsibility? Or were you too busy auditing five-year-old bank accounts to notice your trucks are being impounded?"
Tyler choked on his scotch.
Vanessa’s face turned the exact shade of her canary gown. "You... you don't know anything about logistics!"
"I know how to read ledgers," I said evenly. "And I know that when a department head funnels safety maintenance funds into offshore shell accounts to pay off personal margin calls, it's called grand larceny."
Beatrice’s eyes snapped toward Tyler like daggers. "Is this true, Richard?"
Richard slammed his napkin onto the table, glaring at Tyler with raw fury. "We will discuss this in the library after dinner, Brooks."
May you like
Giovanni leaned in close to me, his lips barely an inch from my ear as the servers poured the soup. "Brutal," he whispered approvingly. "Remind me to give you a raise."
***
