Chapter 6 - The Candidate Who Refused to Kneel|
By sunrise, the story had spread through New York's wealthiest circles.
The maid who had awakened the Black Rose was supposedly Gabriel Moretti's hidden daughter. The succession ceremony had been suspended. The family's adviser had been accused of treason. And Dante Moretti had locked his mansion down after discovering a secret his father had buried for twenty-five years.
The richest women in the city were furious.
Some had spent months cultivating relationships with the Moretti family. Others had paid consultants to investigate Dante's preferences, hoping to become the woman who finally passed his test.
Now they were being told that the heir might be a maid.
I discovered how angry they were when I entered the breakfast room.
Three candidates sat at the table, accompanied by a woman I recognized from the previous day's ceremony.
Victoria Ashford.
She was the daughter of a powerful banking family, elegant and merciless, with a smile that never reached her eyes.
"Look who's here," she said.
I turned toward the kitchen.
"Good morning."
"Don't be shy, Clara. Sit down."
"I'm working."
"Not anymore, apparently."
She lifted a folder from the table.
"I've seen the records. Your father was a gambler. Your mother was a servant. Your family disappeared from respectable society decades ago. And now you expect us to believe you're an heiress?"
"I don't expect you to believe anything."
Victoria smiled.
"Good. Because I don't."
She opened the folder and scattered photographs across the table.
They showed my childhood apartment, my mother's funeral, and the small fishing boat my father had supposedly owned.
One photograph showed me carrying groceries.
Another showed me leaving the debt collection office.
The women laughed.
"You've been watched for years," Victoria said. "How embarrassing."
I felt cold.
"Who gave you those?"
"People who care about the future of this family."
"People who have been spying on me."
"People who understand that a woman with your background cannot possibly belong here."
I gathered the photographs.
"You are welcome to think whatever you like."
Victoria's smile faltered.
She had expected tears. An argument. Something she could use to make me look unstable.
Instead, I turned to leave.
She stood abruptly.
"Don't you dare walk away while I'm speaking to you."
I stopped.
"Why? Are you used to people being afraid of you?"
Her face reddened.
Before she could respond, Dante entered the room.
"What is happening?"
Victoria immediately softened her expression.
"Nothing, Dante. We were only discussing the implications of yesterday's ceremony."
He glanced at the photographs in my hands.
"Those were taken without her consent."
"We're all concerned about the family's security."
"Then concern yourself with the people who stole them."
Victoria blinked.
Dante turned to the other candidates.
"The selection is suspended. All private files and correspondence related to Clara Bennett are now subject to a formal investigation. Anyone who attempts to intimidate her will be removed from this residence."
Victoria stood.
"You cannot be serious. We've spent months preparing for this."
"I didn't ask you to."
"You owe us an explanation."
"No," Dante said. "I owe you nothing."
The room fell silent.
Victoria's gaze shifted toward me.
"This isn't over."
"I didn't think it was."
She swept out of the room.
Dante waited until the door closed before turning to me.
"You handled that well."
"I've been insulted by professionals for years. She wasn't particularly creative."
A faint smile touched his mouth.
Then it disappeared.
"I need you to understand something. If you are Gabriel's daughter, there are people who will want to control you. They may offer money, protection, or marriage. They may threaten you. They may pretend they are acting in your best interests."
"Like you?"
He accepted the question.
"Like me, if I forget myself."
That answer surprised me.
I had expected arrogance. Instead, he seemed to be warning himself as much as me.
"Then don't forget," I said.
He nodded.
A guard appeared in the doorway.
"Sir, we've identified the woman in the photograph. The image was taken three days ago at a private clinic outside Boston."
"Who is she?"
The guard hesitated.
"The clinic confirmed the patient's name through an old emergency contact."
Dante's eyes narrowed.
"What name?"
The guard looked at me.
"Elena Bennett."
My mother.
Dante grabbed his coat.
"We leave in ten minutes."
But before we reached the garage, Rebecca called with another discovery.
May you like
The clinic had received a substantial payment from a company owned by Victoria Ashford's father.
And the payment had been authorized by someone using Dante's personal account.
