Chapter 7
Marcus wanted what he believed Elena had taken from him.
That surprised me.
Before my marriage, he had been close to me.
Not equal in rank.
Close in access.
We traveled together.
Shared meetings.
He assumed that eventually I would make him my permanent second.
Then Elena entered my life.
She questioned him.
Caught mistakes.
Once discovered that he had been using family vehicles for private collections I had not approved.
I reduced his access.
Marcus remembered the sequence differently.
“Elena turned you against me.”
I almost laughed.
“She found out what you were doing.”
“She embarrassed me.”
“You embarrassed yourself.”
His face hardened.
After Elena’s death, he expected his place to return.
It did not.
I had a daughter.
A household.
A different life.
So Marcus began treating Isabella like the remaining symbol of everything Elena changed.
“You hate a three-year-old because her mother noticed you were dishonest.”
“That is not what this is.”
“No?”
I tapped the photograph of Isabella behind the wall.
“What is it?”
He did not answer.
Victoria did.
“She made you weak.”
Elena.
Always Elena.
I looked at my aunt.
“You mean happy.”
Her expression sharpened.
“There is no difference at your level.”
That sentence explained more than any conspiracy.
Victoria believed attachment itself was danger.
Elena made me love something beyond the organization.
Isabella made that permanent.
In Victoria’s worldview, the solution was obvious.
Make the child smaller.
May you like
Make me harder.
Restore the man they preferred.
