Chapter 8 - Unearthing the Truth
The following week was a whirlwind of corporate crisis management, police interviews, and legal restructuring.
My PR team worked around the clock to contain the fallout, spinning the sudden cancellation of the wedding and Vivienne's dramatic arrest as an "unforeseen personal tragedy involving criminal investigation." The stock market barely blinked; my company’s foundation was built on steel and algorithms, not socialite gossip.
Behind closed doors, however, I initiated a complete, thorough audit of every single employee file, financial ledger, and estate record associated with Sofia Carter and her daughter.
What we discovered sent a shockwave through my administrative team.
It turned out that Sofia had not only been an exceptional housekeeper; she had also been quietly keeping track of suspicious discrepancies in the estate’s household budget—discrepancies that pointed directly to Vivienne systematically embezzling funds from my philanthropic foundation account months before our engagement was even announced.
Sofia hadn't just been targeted because she refused to hide corporate files. She had been targeted because she was a witness to financial theft on a massive scale.
I sat at my desk reviewing the forensic accountant’s report when Marco knocked and stepped into the study.
"Mr. Vance, the state coroner's office just finalized the expedited toxicology re-evaluation," Marco said, placing a manila folder on the desk.
I opened it, scanning the medical terminology until I found the conclusion.
Cause of death: Acute synthetic neurotoxin administration, disguised to mimic cerebrovascular accident.
It was murder, plain and simple. Cold, calculated, and executed by a woman who smiled at my side every night.
"And the child?" I asked, looking up at Marco.
"Child Protective Services has initiated contact with Sofia’s maternal aunt living up in Maine," Marco replied. "They're processing the paperwork for legal custody now. It should take about ten days."
Ten days.
I looked out the window toward the small guest cottage where Sofia and Rosie had lived. The lights were off, the windows dark.
"Cancel the CPS transfer," I said quietly.
Marco paused, raising an eyebrow. "Sir?"
May you like
"File the petition for permanent legal guardianship under my own name," I instructed, my voice unwavering. "Prepare the east wing nursery. Hire a full-time, vetted pediatric specialist and a private tutor. Rosie stays here."
Marco stared at me for a moment, then gave a sharp, respectful nod. "Right away, Mr. Vance."
