Chapter 7: The Document She Kept

I arrived twenty minutes early, but Vivi Crus was already waiting.

She sat in the far corner of a quiet restaurant in Silvercrest City, dressed in a cream colored blouse and dark sunglasses despite the cloudy afternoon. A small leather handbag rested on the chair beside her. She kept glancing toward the entrance, as if expecting someone to walk through the door.

For a moment, I considered turning around.

This was the woman whose arms had been around my husband on our fifth wedding anniversary. The woman who had helped shatter the life I thought I knew.

Yet here I was, walking toward her because she claimed to possess a document connected to my dead mother.

Some secrets were worth swallowing your pride for.

Others were worth risking your heart.

I wasn't sure which one this was.

“You came,” Vivi said as I took the seat opposite her.

“You said you had proof.”

“I do.”

“Then show me.”

She looked toward the windows before lowering her voice. “First, I need you to understand something. I didn't keep this document because I wanted to hurt you.”

“I'm not interested in why you kept it. I'm interested in why you waited five years to tell me it existed.”

Her mouth tightened.

“Because I was afraid of Joaquin.”

The answer came too quickly to sound rehearsed, but that didn't make it trustworthy.

“Everyone seems afraid of him,” I said. “My husband. His father. Apparently, even the people who work for his lawyers. What makes Joaquin Deliman so powerful that no one dares tell the truth?”

“Money. Influence. The ability to make a problem disappear before anyone realizes there was a problem.”

“And you were happy to be part of his world until it became dangerous for you?”

Vivi flinched.

Good.

I wanted her to feel at least a fraction of the pain she'd helped cause.

“You have every reason to hate me,” she admitted. “I'm not going to pretend otherwise. But what happened between Dorico and me isn't the only reason your marriage fell apart.”

My fingers curled around the edge of the table.

“What are you saying?”

Vivi opened her handbag and removed a flat brown envelope. She kept one hand over it.

“Before you married Dorico, Joaquin had a private agreement prepared. It involved your mother's estate, a trust, and conditions that were supposed to remain confidential.”

“I've already seen a copy of an agreement.”

“Then you know Dorico's signature appears on it.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know why?”

“No. That's why I'm here.”

Vivi looked down at the envelope.

“Because he was there when Joaquin made a promise to your mother.”

My heart gave a painful thud.

“What promise?”

“I don't know all the details. I only heard part of their conversation. But I remember Joaquin saying that your marriage would settle the matter once and for all.”

The restaurant noise seemed to fade around me.

My marriage would settle the matter.

Not love. Not commitment. Not a future we had chosen together.

A settlement.

I forced myself to breathe.

“Why would my marriage have anything to do with my mother's estate?”

“That's what I tried to understand.”

“And?”

“And Joaquin discovered I was asking questions.”

She finally moved her hand from the envelope.

Inside was a photocopy of a formal legal document. Several paragraphs were blacked out, and the bottom corner bore a reference number matching the one Daisy had found.

I read the visible heading.

CONFIDENTIAL BENEFICIAL INTEREST AGREEMENT

Beneath it were several names.

My mother's.

Joaquin Deliman's.

And Dorico's.

I stared at the page until the letters seemed to blur.

“This isn't the original,” I said.

“No. It's a copy I made before the file disappeared.”

“Disappeared from where?”

“Joaquin's private office.”

I looked up sharply. “You stole it?”

“I copied it. There's a difference.”

“Not to someone like Joaquin.”

“No,” she said quietly. “There isn't.”

I returned my attention to the page. A section near the bottom referred to a condition that would take effect following a legally recognized marriage. The rest of the paragraph had been blacked out.

“Who removed these sections?”

“I don't know.”

“Why is Dorico's name here?”

“I told you. He was present when Joaquin spoke to your mother.”

“That doesn't explain his signature.”

Vivi swallowed.

“I think Joaquin wanted him to witness the agreement. But I never saw Dorico sign the original, and I won't lie to you by pretending I did.”

For the first time since we sat down, I believed she was trying not to exaggerate what she knew.

It didn't mean I trusted her.

It meant I had to listen carefully.

“Why didn't you tell me any of this when you and Dorico were together?”

Her expression hardened, then crumbled at the edges.

“Because I thought I was going to marry him.”

The admission struck me with a bitterness I hadn't expected.

“You wanted my husband.”

“Yes.”

“And you didn't care that I was his wife.”

“No,” she whispered. “At the time, I didn't.”

At least she had the courage to admit it.

I leaned back in my chair.

“Then why help me now?”

Vivi looked at the document.

“Because I thought I understood Joaquin. I thought staying close to him would protect me. I believed that if I became useful enough, he would never turn against me.”

“And now?”

“Now I know that people are only useful to him until they become inconvenient.”

She slid the envelope across the table.

“Take it to Daisy. Let her verify it. Don't accept anything I say without evidence.”

I didn't reach for it immediately.

“There's something else,” I said. “You told me my mother wasn't the only person who tried to stop the marriage.”

Vivi's face went pale.

“Yes.”

“Who was the other person?”

She looked toward the entrance again.

“Dorico.”

I stared at her.

“That makes no sense.”

“He argued with his father the night before your wedding. I was in the adjoining office. I heard them.”

“What did Dorico say?”

Vivi's fingers trembled as she adjusted the envelope.

“He told Joaquin that he wouldn't marry you if the agreement was what he thought it was.”

My breath caught.

“Then why did he marry me?”

“Because Joaquin told him the agreement had nothing to do with you personally. He said it was only a legal formality connected to your mother's estate.”

I thought about Dorico's call the night before, his warning about his father, and his admission that he had heard an argument before our wedding.

“Did Dorico believe him?”

“I don't know.”

“You were there. You heard them.”

“I heard the argument, Mara. I didn't hear everything that came before it. I don't know what Dorico understood, what Joaquin told him privately, or what he discovered afterward.”

I hated that answer because it left me with the same uncertainty I'd been carrying for days.

But it was also the first answer that didn't pretend to know more than the evidence supported.

I took the envelope.

“Is there anything else?”

Vivi hesitated.

“Yes.”

I waited.

“Your mother came to Joaquin's office again a few days before your wedding. She was angry. I remember her saying that if he went through with his plan, he would never be able to undo what happened.”

A chill moved through me.

“What plan?”

“I don't know.”

“Vivi”

“That's all I heard. I swear.”

I studied her face, searching for the familiar arrogance, the smugness I'd once associated with her. What I saw instead was fear.

Real fear.

Before I could ask another question, she stood.

“You need to leave separately. I'll go first.”

“Why?”

“Because I saw a man outside watching this table when you arrived.”

My pulse quickened.

“Who?”

“I don't know. Dark suit. Gray car. He was speaking on his phone.”

I turned toward the windows.

Across the street, a gray sedan waited near the curb.

Its windows were tinted.

I couldn't see who was inside.

When I looked back, Vivi was already walking toward the exit.

“Vivi!”

She stopped but didn't turn around.

“Why should I believe anything you told me?”

For several seconds, she remained still.

“Because if I wanted to destroy you, Mara, I would have let you keep believing your marriage was the only lie.”

Then she left.

I waited five minutes before leaving through the restaurant's side entrance. I didn't see the gray sedan again, but I kept the envelope pressed against my side as I walked to the street where I'd arranged for a car to collect me.

I had come looking for a document.

I was leaving with a question that frightened me far more.

Had Dorico married me because he loved me, because he trusted his father, or because someone had made our marriage part of an agreement neither of us fully understood?

And if he'd tried to stop the wedding, what had made him change his mind?

Daisy was waiting at her office when I arrived.

She examined the photocopy without speaking, then compared its reference number with the documents we'd already collected.

“It's consistent with the other copy,” she said at last. “But consistency isn't authentication. We'll need to verify the source, establish whether the document was executed, and determine what the missing sections contain.”

“Can you do that?”

“I can begin the process. The original file may be restricted, but we have enough information to submit a formal request and investigate the history of the agreement.”

I told her everything Vivi had said, including the argument between Dorico and Joaquin.

Daisy listened without interrupting.

When I finished, she leaned back.

“If Vivi's account is accurate, Dorico may have objected to the agreement before the wedding. That doesn't establish what he knew or whether he later chose to conceal anything. We need to speak to him and compare his account with the evidence.”

“I don't know if I can face him.”

“You don't have to decide that tonight.”

I looked down at my hands.

“What if he knew our marriage was connected to the trust?”

“Then you'll have to decide what that means for you. But don't let the worst possibility become a fact before we prove it.”

I nodded, though the words did little to quiet my thoughts.

Daisy placed the photocopy in a protective folder.

“I'll arrange for the document to be examined and contact the law firm again. In the meantime, don't confront Joaquin, don't hand over the original photograph, and keep a record of every message you receive.”

“I will.”

“And Mara?”

I looked up.

“If you believe someone is monitoring you, take that seriously. Don't meet anyone alone just because they claim to have answers.”

I thought of Vivi's warning and the gray sedan.

“I understand.”

I didn't tell Daisy about the anonymous message mentioning my daughter. I still wasn't ready to explain why those words had frightened me so deeply.

Instead, I thanked her and left.

By the time I reached home, evening had settled over Silvercrest City.

I locked the door behind me and checked the windows before placing the envelope inside a drawer. Then I rested a hand over my abdomen.

I had been so focused on uncovering the past that I had almost forgotten what mattered most about the future.

My child.

Whatever Joaquin had planned, whatever Dorico knew, whatever Vivi had kept hidden, none of it could be allowed to put my baby at risk.

“I won't let them hurt you,” I whispered.

My phone vibrated.

A message from Dorico appeared on the screen.

We need to talk. My father knows you've seen the agreement.

I stared at it.

Another message arrived.

He just called me. He says if you continue investigating, he'll make sure you lose everything your mother left you.

My anger rose so quickly that my hands began to shake.

Everything my mother left me.

So Joaquin knew there was something to lose.

Before I could respond, the phone rang.

Dorico.

I answered.

“How does your father know about the agreement?”

“I don't know,” he said. “But someone told him you've been asking questions.”

“Vivi gave me a copy.”

Silence.

Then, quietly, “You met Vivi?”

“Yes.”

“What did she tell you?”

I almost laughed.

“Why? Are you afraid I'll discover something you should have told me yourself?”

“No. I'm afraid you'll believe something she says before you have a chance to verify it.”

“Then give me the truth.”

“I will.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow. I'll bring the documents I have, and I'll answer your questions.”

“You expect me to believe you now?”

“No,” Dorico said. “I expect you to judge me by what I can prove.”

I looked toward the drawer where the photocopy was hidden.

For the first time, I wondered whether the man who had betrayed me might also have been deceived.

But I wasn't ready to excuse him.

“Tomorrow,” I agreed. “And if you lie to me, there won't be another conversation.”

“I understand.”

The call ended.

I stood in the quiet apartment, trying to convince myself that the next day would bring answers.

Then an email notification appeared.

No sender name. No subject line.

Just an attachment.

I opened it.

The photograph showed a document spread across a desk. At the bottom was a signature I recognized immediately.

Dorico Deliman.

Beneath it, in a line of text that made my blood run cold, were the words:

I acknowledge that the marriage between Dorico Deliman and Mara Clarisse satisfies the condition specified in Section Seven of the Beneficial Interest Agreement.

The date was three days before our wedding.

I read the sentence again.

Then I zoomed in on the signature.

It looked real.

My phone slipped from my hand and landed on the sofa.

If the document was authentic, Dorico had signed an agreement explicitly connecting our marriage to the trust.

He might have been manipulated. He might have misunderstood what he signed. He might even have tried to stop the wedding.

But he had signed it.

And tomorrow, when he stood in front of me and promised to tell me the truth, I would have one question he could no longer avoid.

Did he marry me because he loved me or because our marriage was the key to something my mother had spent her final days trying to protect?