Chapter 4 Vivi's Warning

The first rule I learned after my divorce was simple.

Never underestimate a woman who has something to lose.

I learned the second rule five years later, when Vivi Crus appeared at my office without an appointment.

She arrived at exactly ten in the morning, dressed in a cream-colored suit that probably cost more than my first month's rent after I left Dorico. Her heels clicked against the polished floor, and her smile was so perfect that I immediately distrusted it.

My receptionist called me from the front desk.

“Ms. Clara, there's a Vivi Crus here to see you. She says it's urgent.”

I stopped reviewing the contract in front of me.

Vivi.

For a moment, I considered telling the receptionist I was unavailable. I had a business to run, a daughter to protect, and a lawyer investigating suspicious documents connected to my divorce. The last thing I needed was a conversation with the woman who had stood beside my husband while he ended our marriage.

But curiosity was a dangerous thing.

And I wanted to know why she had come.

“Send her in.”

I straightened the papers on my desk and waited.

A few seconds later, the door opened.

“Maria,” Vivi said warmly. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“Don't mention it. I was beginning to think my office had become a place for unexpected visitors.”

Her smile faltered.

Then she recovered and took the chair opposite me without waiting for an invitation.

“You look well.”

“So I've been told.”

“I suppose life has been good to you.”

“Good enough.”

Her gaze traveled across my office, lingering on the framed certificates, the project awards, and the photographs of my team celebrating our latest achievement.

“You've done remarkably well for yourself.”

“Hard work tends to produce results.”

“Of course.”

She crossed her legs.

“I'm happy for you, Maria. Truly.”

I leaned back in my chair.

“Let's skip the compliments. Why are you here?”

For the first time, her smile disappeared completely.

“I want to talk about Dorico.”

I almost laughed.

“Then you should make an appointment with him.”

“Please don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about.”

“I honestly don't.”

“Dorico has been asking questions about your divorce.”

My fingers tightened around the pen in my hand.

“How do you know that?”

“Because we're close.”

There it was.

The reminder she had come to deliver: she was the woman beside Dorico now, the one who could enter his office without being announced, the one who attended family dinners and appeared in photographs beside him.

I wondered whether she had rehearsed this conversation on her way here.

“Congratulations,” I said. “Would you like me to send you flowers?”

Her eyes flashed.

“You haven't changed as much as I thought.”

“And you haven't answered my question. Why are you here?”

Vivi leaned forward.

“Dorico is different around you. He's distracted. He's questioning things he hasn't questioned in years, and I don't think you understand the consequences.”

I looked at her carefully.

“Consequences for whom?”

“For everyone.”

“That's rather dramatic.”

“I'm serious, Maria.”

“So am I.”

She exhaled sharply, then lowered her voice.

“You need to stop encouraging him.”

I stared at her.

“Encouraging him to do what? Ask questions about his own divorce?”

“Whatever you're doing, it's working. He's reconsidering things.”

“I haven't asked him to reconsider anything.”

“Then stop giving him reasons to.”

A cold understanding settled over me.

Vivi hadn't come to discuss business. She hadn't come to offer peace or apologize for the past.

She was afraid.

And fear made people careless.

“Does Dorico know you're here?” I asked.

Her silence answered me.

I smiled without humor.

“Interesting.”

“Don't twist this into something it isn't.”

“Then tell me what it is.”

She stood and walked toward the window, her heels tapping against the floor.

“Dorico has spent years building Nora Group into one of the most powerful companies in the industry. His father has worked just as hard to protect the family name. They cannot afford unnecessary scandals.”

“Are you suggesting that my existence is a scandal?”

“I'm suggesting that the past should remain in the past.”

I felt my anger rise, but I kept my voice steady.

“Then perhaps you should explain that to the people who keep bringing it up.”

She turned sharply.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I'm not the one who asked Dorico to investigate our divorce. I'm not the one who brought up his missing letter. And I'm certainly not the person who arranged the legal paperwork five years ago.”

Her face changed.

Only slightly.

But enough.

For a second, Vivi looked less like a confident woman in an expensive suit and more like someone who had just heard a name she hadn't expected.

Then her expression hardened.

“What letter?”

I held her gaze.

“You tell me.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Then we're finished here.”

I pressed the intercom button on my desk.

“My next meeting is ready.”

Vivi's mouth tightened.

“You think you're in control because you've built a successful company?”

“No. I think I'm in control because I decide who gets to waste my time.”

She stared at me, her cheeks flushed.

Then she picked up her handbag.

“You should be careful, Maria.”

I remained seated.

“Is that a warning?”

“It's advice.”

“From you?”

Her eyes narrowed.

“You don't know everything that happened five years ago.”

The room went quiet.

I felt my pulse quicken.

“What do you know, Vivi?”

For a moment, she looked as though she might answer.

Instead, she walked to the door.

“Stay away from Dorico.”

Then she left.

I remained motionless until I heard the elevator doors close.

Only then did I realize how tightly I had been gripping my pen.

Vivi had come to threaten me.

But in her attempt to frighten me, she had revealed something more important.

She knew the past wasn't as simple as I believed.

And she was desperate to keep Dorico from discovering why.

I called Daisy as soon as Vivi was gone.

She answered while I was still pacing behind my desk.

“Maria? Have you reviewed the records I sent?”

“Not yet. Vivi just came to my office.”

There was a pause.

“Vivi Crus?”

“Yes.”

“What did she want?”

“To tell me to stay away from Dorico.”

Daisy sighed.

“That sounds reassuringly innocent.”

“She also mentioned the family name and scandals. When I brought up Dorico's letter, she acted as though she had never heard of it.”

“Did she seem surprised?”

“Very.”

“Then write down everything you remember. Her exact words, her tone, anything that seemed unusual.”

I reached for a notebook.

“Daisy, do you think Vivi was involved in my divorce?”

“I don't know. And I won't accuse her without evidence. But if she is worried about Dorico investigating the past, we need to understand why.”

I wrote down the details of the conversation.

Then I asked the question that had been bothering me since Daisy's last message.

“What exactly was that communication restriction you found?”

“I haven't confirmed its legal effect yet. The copy in your file suggests that certain communications were to be routed through the Deliman family office. It doesn't establish who requested it, whether you were properly informed, or whether Dorico was told the same thing.”

“So someone could have intercepted our messages?”

“Possibly. But we need the original records before we draw conclusions.”

I sat down slowly.

“Five years, Daisy. Five years of believing he simply didn't care enough to look for me.”

“I know.”

“What if someone deliberately made sure we stayed apart?”

“Then we find out who did it.”

Her certainty steadied me.

“I'm sending you the original papers tonight.”

“Good. And Maria?”

“Yes?”

“Don't let Vivi frighten you into making a decision about Lucy before we understand what's happening.”

My heart gave a painful squeeze at the sound of my daughter's name.

“I won't.”

After ending the call, I opened the drawer beneath my desk and took out a photograph I rarely looked at.

It had been taken shortly after my wedding.

Dorico stood beside me in a black suit, one hand resting at my waist. I was smiling at the camera, my head tilted toward him. He looked serious, but I remembered the quiet joke he had whispered just before the photograph was taken.

I remembered laughing so hard that the photographer had needed to take another picture.

For a moment, I allowed myself to remember the man I had loved before everything fell apart.

Then I put the photograph away.

Nostalgia was not evidence.

And love, no matter how real it had once been, was not a reason to ignore the truth.

That evening, Dorico arrived at John Deliman's mansion with a folder tucked beneath his arm.

His father was in the study, reviewing financial reports when Dorico entered.

“You wanted to see me?” John asked without looking up.

“I need to discuss something.”

“Then speak.”

Dorico placed the folder on the desk.

“It's about my divorce from Maria.”

John's hand stopped moving.

Only for a second.

Then he set down his pen.

“What about it?”

“I've been reviewing the old records. There are gaps in the correspondence.”

“Old records are often incomplete.”

“Not in the way these are.”

John closed the report in front of him.

“Dorico, you have a company to run. Why are you digging through a marriage that ended five years ago?”

“Because I recently discovered that Maria never received a letter I sent her.”

His father's expression remained calm.

“Perhaps she didn't want to hear from you.”

“That isn't what I'm asking.”

“Then ask the right question.”

Dorico opened the folder and placed a copy of the letter on the desk.

“Who handled the communication restrictions during the divorce?”

John glanced at the document.

“I did.”

The admission was so direct that Dorico briefly wondered whether he had misunderstood.

“You did?”

“Your marriage was becoming a distraction. Both families were under pressure, and the situation needed to be managed.”

“Managed?”

John folded his hands.

“You were emotional. Maria was unhappy. The divorce was the sensible outcome.”

“That doesn't explain why communications were restricted.”

“It prevented unnecessary arguments.”

“Between two people who were already divorced?”

“Between two people who couldn't accept that their marriage was over.”

Dorico's jaw tightened.

“You made decisions about my marriage without telling me.”

“I protected you from making a greater mistake.”

“By doing what?”

John leaned back in his chair.

“By ensuring that the divorce proceeded without further complications.”

The words settled over the room.

Dorico stared at his father, trying to reconcile the calm, authoritative man before him with the possibility that he had deliberately interfered in something so personal.

“Did you stop my letters from reaching her?”

“I don't recall every communication that passed through the office.”

“That isn't an answer.”

John's expression hardened.

“Be careful how you speak to me.”

Dorico remained standing.

“For years, I believed Maria chose to disappear. I believed she wanted nothing more to do with me.”

“Perhaps she didn't.”

“But what if she never received the messages I sent?”

“Then she didn't receive them.”

The casualness of the response made Dorico's blood run cold.

“Why?”

John stood.

“Because you needed to move on.”

“That's not your decision to make.”

“It became my decision when your personal life began threatening the company.”

Dorico let out a humorless laugh.

“So that's what this was about? Nora Group?”

“This family has responsibilities that extend beyond your feelings.”

“My marriage was not a business transaction.”

“No,” John said sharply. “But your future was tied to the future of this family. You were expected to make choices that strengthened it, not choices that weakened it.”

Dorico stared at him.

“Did Vivi know?”

John's expression changed.

It was brief, but Dorico saw it.

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because she visited Maria today and told her to stay away from me.”

John said nothing.

Dorico's stomach tightened.

“You knew about the visit.”

“I know what happens within the circles we move in.”

“That's not an answer either.”

John walked toward the window.

“Vivi has always understood what is expected of her. She knows how to protect her position and how to avoid creating unnecessary problems.”

“Her position?”

John turned.

“Don't be naive, Dorico. You cannot spend your life reopening old wounds because you have suddenly become sentimental.”

“I'm not being sentimental.”

“Then stop behaving as though the past owes you an explanation.”

Dorico collected the folder.

For the first time in years, he looked at his father and wondered how much of his life had been shaped by decisions he had never known were being made.

“I'll find the original records,” he said.

John's face darkened.

“You will do no such thing.”

Dorico paused at the door.

“You don't get to decide that anymore.”

Then he left.

Behind him, John remained motionless in the study.

For several seconds, he stared at the closed door.

Then he reached for his phone.

“Vivi,” he said when she answered. “We have a problem.”

I was halfway through preparing Lucy's dinner when my phone rang.

Dorico's name appeared on the screen.

I almost let it go to voicemail.

Then I remembered Vivi's visit and Daisy's warning.

I answered.

“What happened?”

He sounded surprised.

“You assume something happened?”

“You don't usually call me without a reason.”

“Fair enough.”

There was a pause.

“Did Vivi come to see you today?”

I put down the knife.

“Yes.”

“What did she say?”

I hesitated.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because I spoke to my father.”

My heart began to beat faster.

“And?”

“He admitted that he handled certain communications during our divorce.”

I closed my eyes.

For five years, I had blamed myself for not fighting harder, for not insisting that he hear me, for not finding a way to make him understand what I had been going through.

Now I was beginning to suspect that the two of us had been kept apart by something neither of us fully understood.

“What else did he say?” I asked.

“Not enough.”

“Then you need to ask him more questions.”

“I intend to.”

I leaned against the counter.

“Dorico, I need you to understand something. Whatever your father did, you still signed those papers. You still stood beside Vivi and let me believe I meant nothing to you.”

His voice softened.

“I know.”

“No, I don't think you do.”

“Then help me understand.”

I closed my eyes.

I wanted to tell him that I had been pregnant when he divorced me.

I wanted to ask whether he would have signed those papers if he had known.

But the truth wasn't ready to leave my lips.

“I'm not going to help you repair your relationship with your father,” I said. “And I'm not going to pretend we can become friends because you've started asking questions.”

“I haven't asked you to be my friend.”

“Then what do you want?”

His answer came quietly.

“The truth.”

I stared at the kitchen wall.

“So do I.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then Dorico asked, “Would you meet me tomorrow? Somewhere private. No business, no lawyers. Just us.”

Every instinct told me to refuse.

But if we were going to uncover what had happened five years ago, we needed answers from the people who had been involved.

And I needed to know whether Dorico was prepared to hear the truth about himself.

“I'll meet you,” I said. “One hour. In a public place.”

“Thank you.”

“Don't thank me yet. I'm not promising forgiveness.”

“I understand.”

I ended the call.

From the living room, Lucy called, “Mommy, is dinner ready?”

I took a deep breath and returned to the stove.

“Yes, sweetheart. Almost.”

She appeared in the doorway, holding her stuffed rabbit.

“Are you sad?”

I turned toward her.

“No, baby. Just thinking.”

“About Daddy?”

The question caught me off guard.

I knelt in front of her.

“Why do you ask that?”

“Because when you think about him, you look like you want to cry.”

I wrapped my arms around her.

“I promise you, no matter what happens, I'll always be here for you.”

Lucy hugged me back.

“I know, Mommy.”

Her trust was absolute.

It was the one thing in my life I could not afford to betray.

The following afternoon, I met Dorico at a quiet café several blocks from Nora Group's headquarters.

He was already seated near the window when I arrived. He stood as I approached, a gesture that might once have made me smile.

Now it only reminded me of how much we had forgotten about each other.

I sat down.

“You have fifty-five minutes left.”

His mouth twitched.

“You're serious about the hour.”

“Very.”

He nodded and placed a thin folder on the table.

“I brought copies of the documents my father showed me.”

I didn't touch them.

“What do you want from me, Dorico?”

He looked at me for a long moment.

“Did you ever stop loving me?”

The question was so unexpected that I forgot to breathe.

Of all the things he could have asked, he had chosen the one question that had no place in a conversation about suspicious legal records.

I looked down at my hands.

“That's not relevant.”

“It is to me.”

“Then you should have asked me five years ago.”

“I know.”

The quiet admission hurt more than a defensive answer would have.

I lifted my eyes.

“You want the truth? Fine. I loved you. I loved you when you stopped speaking to me. I loved you when you made me feel like I was an embarrassment. And I loved you on the day you handed me those papers, even though I knew I had to walk away.”

His expression tightened.

“Maria”

“I'm not finished.”

I forced myself to continue.

“I loved you when I left. And I spent a long time hating myself for it, because a part of me kept hoping you'd come after me.”

He stared at me, his eyes dark with something I couldn't name.

“I did try.”

“Maybe. But I never knew that.”

“I should have tried harder.”

“Yes,” I whispered. “You should have.”

For several seconds, the only sound between us was the soft clatter of cups and the quiet conversation of other customers.

Then Dorico reached across the table but stopped before touching my hand.

“Is there any chance we can understand what happened?”

I pulled my hand away.

“Understanding isn't the same as forgiveness.”

“I know.”

“And even if we discover your father interfered, that won't erase what happened between us.”

“I know that too.”

I studied his face, searching for the man who had once made me believe that love could survive anything.

I didn't know whether he was still there.

And I wasn't sure I wanted to find out.

“My lawyer is reviewing the records,” I said. “If she finds evidence of wrongdoing, we'll deal with it properly.”

He nodded.

“Of course.”

I stood.

Our hour was almost over.

As I reached for my bag, Dorico spoke again.

“Maria, there's one more thing.”

I froze.

“What?”

“Vivi told me she came to see you because she was worried about our partnership.”

I turned toward him.

“She lied.”

“I suspected as much.”

“She told me to stay away from you. She said the past should remain buried.”

His expression hardened.

“Did she say anything else?”

I hesitated.

Then I remembered the way Vivi had reacted when I mentioned the letter.

“She seemed surprised when I brought it up. But not surprised enough.”

Dorico's jaw tightened.

“I'll speak to her.”

“Don't do anything reckless.”

He looked at me.

“Are you worried about me?”

“No,” I answered. “I'm worried about what people might do when they realize their secrets are being uncovered.”

I left him at the table.

Outside, the afternoon sunlight was bright, but I felt as though I were walking deeper into a storm.

My phone rang before I reached the car.

It was Daisy.

“Maria, I need you to come to my office as soon as possible.”

“What did you find?”

“I compared the dates on the divorce documents with the correspondence records.”

“And?”

Her voice dropped.

“Someone submitted a statement claiming that you had requested no further contact with Dorico.”

I stopped walking.

“What?”

“Your signature appears on the copy, but I can't confirm whether the document is authentic. I need you to look at it.”

“I never signed anything like that.”

“I thought you might say that.”

My stomach twisted.

“Who submitted it?”

There was a pause.

“The record shows it came through the Deliman family office.”

I gripped the phone.

John.

I thought of his calm expression when he told Dorico that he had protected him.

I thought of Vivi's warning.

And I thought of Lucy, who had asked whether her father would recognize her.

The truth was no longer just about a failed marriage.

It was about who had controlled our lives, who had kept us apart, and what they stood to lose if we discovered why.

“I'm coming,” I told Daisy.

Then I ended the call.

As I reached the car, another message appeared on my screen.

It was from an unknown number.

You should have stayed away from Dorico.

I stared at the words.

A second message followed.

Some secrets are better left buried.

My blood ran cold.

I looked around the parking lot, searching the faces of strangers and the darkened windows of nearby buildings.

Nobody appeared to be watching me.

But someone knew I had met Dorico.

Someone knew I was asking questions.

And someone wanted me to stop.

I thought of Lucy again.

This time, I didn't feel afraid for myself.

I felt afraid for my daughter.

Because whoever was threatening me had made one dangerous mistake.

They had reminded me exactly why I had learned to survive without Dorico Deliman.

And they had given me a reason to fight harder than ever.