Chapter 5 Joaquin Deliman's Game

The message stayed on my phone long after I arrived at Daisy Whit's office.

You should have stayed away from Dorico.

I had read it so many times that the words seemed to burn into the screen.

Someone had watched me meet my ex-husband. Someone knew I was investigating the divorce. And someone believed a threatening message would be enough to make me retreat.

They had chosen the wrong woman.

Five years ago, I might have been frightened into silence. I might have convinced myself that walking away was safer than asking questions.

But I wasn't that woman anymore.

I had a daughter who depended on me. A company I had built from nothing. A life that no one not Dorico, not Vivi, and certainly not John Deliman had the right to control.

I entered Daisy's office and placed my phone on her desk.

“Someone sent me this.”

She read the message, and the warmth disappeared from her expression.

“When did you receive it?”

“Right after I met Dorico.”

“Have you replied?”

“No.”

“Good. Don't respond, and don't delete anything. Keep the original message and any details that may help establish when it was sent.”

She took a photograph of the screen for her records, then motioned for me to sit.

“Now,” she said, opening a folder, “let's talk about the document.”

My stomach tightened.

The paper she placed in front of me was a copy of a formal statement supposedly signed by me shortly after my divorce.

The wording was simple. It claimed that I had voluntarily requested no further communication from Dorico Deliman and had no intention of pursuing any personal or financial claims against him.

At the bottom was a signature that looked disturbingly similar to mine.

I stared at it.

“I never signed this.”

“Are you certain?”

“Daisy, I remember every document I signed that day. I remember the divorce papers. I remember the settlement agreement. I remember barely being able to hold the pen because my hands were shaking.”

I pointed to the signature.

“This wasn't one of them.”

Daisy studied my face.

“I believe you remember what happened. But we need evidence to establish whether this document is authentic, altered, or improperly submitted.”

“Can you prove who sent it?”

“The copy in the file identifies the Deliman family office as the submitting party. That doesn't establish who prepared it or who authorized it. We'll need the original file, submission records, and any related correspondence.”

I leaned back.

“John Deliman.”

“Possibly.”

“Who else could benefit from making Dorico believe I wanted nothing to do with him?”

Daisy didn't answer immediately.

“Vivi Crus might have had a motive. John Deliman might have had a motive. There may be other explanations we haven't considered. We can't build a case around suspicion alone.”

“I know.”

“Then let's do this properly. I'll request the relevant records and preserve the documents we already have. If we find evidence of forgery or deliberate interference, we can consider the appropriate legal steps.”

I nodded, though anger was beginning to replace my fear.

For five years, I had believed my marriage ended because Dorico had stopped loving me.

Now I was looking at a document that suggested someone had wanted him to believe I had rejected him completely.

But even if John had manipulated the situation, Dorico had still chosen to divorce me.

I needed to remember that.

“There's something else,” I said. “Someone sent me a threatening message after my meeting with Dorico.”

Daisy's expression hardened.

“Then we take that seriously. Save every message, avoid meeting the sender, and tell someone you trust where you're going. If the threats become specific or you believe you're in immediate danger, contact the authorities.”

I picked up my phone.

“I have to go home. Lucy is waiting for me.”

Daisy closed the folder.

“Maria, be careful. Whatever happened between you and Dorico, someone may be worried about what the two of you will discover.”

I stood.

“Then they should have thought about that before leaving evidence behind.”

For the first time since I had entered her office, Daisy smiled.

“That's the Maria I remember.”

I wasn't sure whether that was a compliment.

But I intended to make it true.

John Deliman was waiting for his son when Dorico arrived at Nora Group the following morning.

The older man stood beside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the executive office, his hands clasped behind his back. Beyond the glass, the city moved beneath a pale morning sky.

“Close the door,” John said.

Dorico did.

“What's this about?”

John turned.

“I understand you've been asking questions about your divorce.”

“I have.”

“And speaking to Maria.”

“She's involved in the investigation. Of course I'm speaking to her.”

John's eyes narrowed.

“You're letting a personal matter interfere with your judgment.”

“My judgment is not the problem.”

“Your priorities are.”

Dorico walked to his desk and placed a document on it.

“Did you submit a statement claiming Maria requested no further contact with me?”

John glanced down.

“What statement?”

“The one in the divorce file.”

“I handled dozens of documents during that period.”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

John's expression cooled.

“You are accusing your own father of misconduct?”

“I'm asking whether you submitted it.”

“And if I did?”

Dorico stared at him.

“Then I want to know why.”

John walked around the desk and sat down.

“Because you were making a mess of your life.”

“My life?”

“You were distracted. You were fighting with your wife. The company's expansion plans were already under pressure, and you were spending more time managing domestic disputes than leading your own organization.”

Dorico's hands curled into fists.

“So you decided to manage my marriage for me?”

“I decided to protect the future of this family.”

“You keep saying that as if it excuses everything.”

John's voice hardened.

“You have no idea what I sacrificed to build this company. Every decision I made was intended to protect what your grandfather left us.”

“And what about Maria? What did she do to deserve being shut out of my life?”

John's expression remained composed.

“She made her choices.”

“No. Someone may have made them for her.”

A silence fell.

For the first time, John looked genuinely irritated.

“Do you know what happens when powerful families allow personal matters to become public scandals? Investors lose confidence. Partnerships collapse. People who depend on us lose their livelihoods.”

Dorico shook his head.

“Don't use the company to justify this.”

“I'm not justifying anything. I'm reminding you of your responsibilities.”

“My responsibility was to make my own decisions.”

“And you did. You signed the divorce papers.”

The words struck with uncomfortable precision.

Dorico looked away.

His father was right about one thing. He had signed the papers. No one had physically forced him to hold the pen.

He had been angry, proud, and convinced that Maria no longer wanted him.

He had accepted the divorce because it was easier than admitting how badly their marriage was failing.

But he had never agreed to let someone else decide what happened afterward.

“Did you interfere with the communication between us?” he asked.

John rose slowly.

“I did what I believed was necessary.”

“That isn't an answer.”

“It's the only one you're getting.”

Dorico stared at him.

“Then I'll find the truth myself.”

John's expression turned dangerous.

“Think carefully before you do something you cannot undo.”

Dorico picked up the document.

“That's exactly what I'm trying to do.”

He walked out without waiting for his father's response.

Behind him, John stood perfectly still.

Then he reached for his private phone.

He had spent years keeping his family in order.

He wasn't going to let one woman's return dismantle everything he had protected.

Not now.

Not after all this time.

Vivi Crus had never liked waiting.

She liked being informed, being invited, and knowing exactly where she stood. Uncertainty was a weakness she had trained herself to conceal.

Yet for the past two days, Dorico had been treating her as though she were an inconvenience.

He had ignored her calls, cancelled a dinner they had planned with investors, and spent hours reviewing documents connected to his former marriage.

It was humiliating.

Worse, she couldn't tell how much Maria knew.

Vivi stood in the private lounge of a luxury hotel, watching John approach.

“You said we needed to talk,” she said.

“We do.”

He gestured for her to sit.

Vivi remained standing.

“What did Dorico find?”

“Enough to become suspicious.”

Her stomach tightened.

“Did he discover the statement?”

“He knows it exists.”

“Does he know who submitted it?”

“He knows the family office was involved.”

Vivi closed her eyes briefly.

“Then why didn't you tell me he was investigating?”

“Because I didn't know he would begin digging through the records.”

She looked at him sharply.

“You told me the matter was settled.”

“It was settled.”

“Apparently not.”

John's expression hardened.

“Watch your tone.”

Vivi drew a slow breath.

For years, she had accepted John's guidance because he had promised that her future with Dorico was secure. She had believed that if she remained patient, stayed close to the family, and allowed the marriage to end without further complications, Dorico would eventually see her as the woman he should have chosen.

But Maria's return had changed everything.

Dorico looked at his former wife with an intensity Vivi had never been able to command.

He questioned her. He listened to her. He followed her when she walked away.

And Vivi could not bear the thought that five years of carefully building her place beside him might be undone by one woman who had simply returned.

“What happens if Dorico discovers everything?” she asked.

John regarded her coldly.

“That depends on what there is to discover.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Then stop asking questions you don't want answered.”

Vivi sat down at last.

“I won't lose him to her.”

John's gaze sharpened.

“Then stop behaving as though you're afraid of her.”

“I'm not afraid of Maria.”

“Good. Because fear makes people reckless.”

He stood.

“Keep your distance from the investigation. Let me handle Dorico.”

“And if he asks me directly?”

“You tell him the truth.”

Vivi's eyes widened.

“Which truth?”

“The one you can prove.”

He left before she could respond.

Vivi remained seated, her fingers digging into the leather armrest.

For the first time, she wondered whether John Deliman was protecting her or merely protecting himself.

That evening, I arrived home to find Lucy sitting on the living room floor, surrounded by colored pencils and sheets of paper.

She looked up the instant I entered.

“Mommy!”

I barely had time to put down my bag before she ran into my arms.

“How was school, sweetheart?”

“Good! I learned about families.”

My smile faltered.

“Did you?”

She nodded and pulled me toward her drawings.

“Look. This is our family.”

On the paper, she had drawn herself holding my hand. Beside us was a taller figure with dark hair and a blue shirt.

Her father.

Again.

I sat beside her.

“You worked very hard on this.”

“I want to put it on the refrigerator.”

“Of course.”

Lucy handed me a piece of tape.

As I helped her attach the drawing, she asked, “Mommy, when you were married to Daddy, did he make you happy?”

My fingers stopped against the refrigerator door.

Children had a way of asking questions adults spent years avoiding.

“Sometimes,” I answered honestly.

“Then why did you stop being married?”

I crouched beside her.

“Sometimes adults love each other but don't know how to solve their problems. Sometimes they make mistakes that hurt the people they care about.”

“Did Daddy make a mistake?”

I looked into her eyes.

“Yes,” I whispered. “We both made mistakes.”

It wasn't the whole truth, but I didn't want Lucy to grow up believing her father was a monster simply because he had hurt me.

She studied my face.

“Do you still love him?”

My throat tightened.

I brushed her hair behind her ear.

“What matters most is that I love you.”

She accepted that answer, though I could tell she wasn't entirely satisfied.

Then she threw her arms around me.

“I love you too, Mommy.”

I held her close and closed my eyes.

Whatever happened with Dorico, I would not let Lucy become a bargaining chip. She deserved to grow up surrounded by love, not used as leverage in a fight between adults.

When she finally went to bed, I returned to the kitchen and checked my phone.

There was a new message from Daisy.

Daisy: I have an update on the document. Can you come to my office tomorrow morning? I don't want to discuss the details over text.

My heart began to pound.

Before I could respond, another notification appeared.

This one came from an unfamiliar number.

You need to stop asking questions about the Deliman family.

I stared at the message.

Then a second one appeared.

Think about your daughter before you make your next move.

The phone nearly slipped from my hand.

I read the words again, slower this time.

They knew about Lucy.

Or at least, they knew enough to use the possibility of my daughter against me.

I immediately checked the locks on the front door and the windows. Then I went to Lucy's room.

She was asleep, one arm wrapped around her stuffed rabbit, her lips slightly parted.

I stood beside her bed and listened to the steady rhythm of her breathing.

“No one will hurt you,” I whispered.

I wasn't sure whether I was making a promise to her or to myself.

My phone vibrated again.

I nearly ignored it, but when I looked at the screen, I saw Dorico's name.

Dorico: My father has admitted that he handled our communications during the divorce. I don't know everything he did, but I intend to find out. Are you all right?

I stared at the message.

For the first time in years, I considered telling him about the threats.

Then I imagined what would happen if he confronted John without evidence. I imagined the family turning against me, the business partnership collapsing, and Lucy's existence becoming the center of a battle she had never asked to join.

I typed a reply.

Me: I'm fine. Please don't confront your father until we know more.

His answer came quickly.

Dorico: Why? Has something happened?

I hesitated.

Then I locked the phone without replying.

I wasn't ready to trust him with everything.

Not yet.

The next morning, I met Daisy at her office.

She closed the door behind me and placed a file on the desk.

“I've found a discrepancy.”

I sat down.

“What kind?”

“The statement claiming you requested no further contact was included in the administrative file, but it doesn't appear in the list of documents you acknowledged receiving. That alone doesn't prove wrongdoing, but it raises questions about how the record was assembled.”

“Can you determine whether my signature is genuine?”

“Not from this copy. We'd need the original and, if necessary, a qualified handwriting examination.”

I leaned forward.

“What about the person who submitted it?”

“The available record points to the Deliman family office. I'm preparing a formal request for the underlying submission records and correspondence.”

I stared at the file.

“So someone may have made it look as though I wanted nothing to do with Dorico.”

“That's one possibility. Another is that the document was mishandled or misrepresented. We need to establish what actually happened.”

I nodded slowly.

“And the threats?”

“Save every message. Don't respond. I'll document the connection between the threats and the ongoing dispute, but we'll need more information to identify the sender.”

I looked at her.

“Daisy, I have a daughter. I can't afford to let this turn into something dangerous.”

Her expression softened.

“Then we proceed carefully. You don't have to tell Dorico about Lucy until you've considered the legal and personal implications. But we should prepare for the possibility that he may learn the truth.”

My chest tightened.

“What if he demands custody?”

“Parentage and custody are legal matters that depend on the applicable law and the circumstances. I can't promise you what a court would decide. What I can do is help you understand your options and make sure you're prepared.”

I appreciated her honesty.

I had spent too many years relying on hope.

This time, I needed facts.

As I gathered the documents, Daisy added, “One more thing. Don't assume John is the only person involved simply because his office handled the records. We should investigate every possible connection.”

I thought of Vivi's expression when I mentioned the missing letter.

The way she had warned me to stay away from Dorico.

The way she had seemed frightened when I asked what she knew.

“I have a feeling she knows more than she's admitting,” I said.

“Then we look for evidence, not confrontation.”

I nodded.

“I understand.”

But as I left her office, I knew something had changed.

The secret I had guarded for five years was no longer protected by distance alone.

Dorico was searching for answers. John was determined to preserve his control. Vivi was afraid of losing her place.

And someone had begun using Lucy's safety to pressure me.

I would no longer allow fear to make my decisions.

If the Deliman family wanted to keep playing games, they would have to face the consequences.

Because I wasn't the abandoned wife who had walked away five years ago.

I was Maria Clara.

I was Lucy's mother.

And I was done letting other people write my story.

At Nora Group, Dorico sat alone in his office, studying the documents he had obtained from the family archive.

Most of the records were ordinary: dates, signatures, administrative notes, and references to the legal representatives who had handled the divorce.

But one page had been added to the file without a clear explanation.

It contained a brief instruction from the family office to route future correspondence concerning Maria through a single point of contact.

There was no explanation of who had requested the instruction.

No indication that Maria had been informed.

And no proof that Dorico himself had approved it.

He read the page twice.

Then he called his assistant.

“Find out who authorized this instruction.”

“Certainly, sir.”

“And I want a full record of every communication sent to Maria after our divorce.”

“Understood.”

Dorico ended the call and stared out at the city.

He had spent five years believing that Maria had wanted to leave him behind.

Now he was beginning to wonder whether he had been given only half the story.

His phone rang.

John.

Dorico answered.

“What is it?”

“You need to stop this investigation,” his father said.

Dorico's expression hardened.

“Why?”

“Because you're putting the company at risk.”

“Or because you're afraid of what I'll find?”

Silence.

Then John spoke, his voice cold.

“You have no idea what you're risking.”

Dorico stood and walked toward the window.

“Then tell me.”

“Some decisions were made to protect you.”

“From what?”

John didn't answer.

Dorico's fingers tightened around the phone.

“Father, if you know something about Maria, you need to tell me now.”

“I've already told you everything you need to know.”

“No,” Dorico said. “You told me what you wanted me to believe.”

He ended the call.

For several seconds, he stood motionless, his mind racing through every memory of his marriage.

Maria's tears.

Her silence.

The way she had looked at him on the day he handed her the divorce papers, as though she had been waiting for him to change his mind.

He had thought she was refusing to fight for their marriage.

Now he wondered whether she had been trying to protect something he had never understood.

A thought came to him, sudden and unwelcome.

What if there had been another reason Maria had disappeared so completely?

What if she had left carrying a truth that no one in his family had wanted him to discover?

He dismissed the thought almost immediately.

There was no evidence for it.

Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that the most important part of his past was still hidden from him.

And somewhere across the city, Maria Clara was guarding a secret that could change his life forever.