The Forty Percent Nobody Knew Existed

Chapter 05 - The Forty Percent Nobody Knew Existed

Dante did not speak for almost a full minute.

Elena had begun to recognize the difference between his kinds of silence.

There was the intimidating silence he used with other men.

The irritated silence he used when she refused instructions.

And this one.

Shock.

“Sofia,” he said finally, “how do you own forty percent of Salvatore Logistics?”

Elena’s mother looked at the floor.

“I don’t.”

“Marcus says you do.”

“On paper.”

“That is generally how ownership works.”

Elena almost laughed.

Sofia did not.

“Miguel transferred shares to me three weeks before he died.”

Dante’s face hardened.

“He did not have shares to transfer.”

“He did.”

“How?”

“Antonio gave them to him.”

Dante stared.

“My father?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because your father thought Enzo was going to take the company from him.”

Dante began pacing.

The private bank room was suddenly too small for him.

“Antonio used Miguel as a proxy.”

“Yes.”

“And after Miguel died, the shares passed to you.”

“Yes.”

“Why did nobody know?”

“Because the company was dissolved.”

Dante stopped.

“No.”

Sofia looked at him.

“What?”

“Salvatore Logistics was not dissolved.”

Elena frowned.

“It was in the papers.”

“The operating company dissolved. The holding company still exists.”

Sofia went white.

Dante pulled out his phone.

Within minutes, he had corporate records on screen.

Salvatore Maritime Holdings.

Dormant, officially.

Owner percentages hidden behind trusts.

Dante read.

“My father’s estate: thirty percent. Enzo: thirty percent.”

He looked at Sofia.

“Reyes Family Trust: forty percent.”

Elena’s stomach tightened.

“What does a dormant company own?”

Dante looked at her.

“Land.”

“How much?”

“Port property. Warehouses. Development rights.”

“Worth?”

He did not answer immediately.

“Dante.”

“At least four hundred million.”

Sofia sat down.

Elena laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because sometimes the human body chose badly.

“My mother lives in a house with a twenty-year-old furnace.”

Sofia looked offended.

“It was replaced nine years ago.”

“That is not the point.”

Dante kept reading.

“Any sale or redevelopment requires sixty percent approval.”

Elena understood.

“Enzo has thirty.”

“My father’s estate has thirty.”

“And who controls the estate?”

Dante’s face changed.

“My sister.”

Elena stared.

“You have a sister?”

“Yes.”

“You might consider a family tree at some point.”

“Noted.”

Sofia rubbed her forehead.

“So Daniel Mercer wants my shares.”

“Yes,” Dante said.

“Why now?”

“Because the city approved redevelopment around the south port last month.”

Elena remembered the headlines.

A massive mixed-use riverfront project.

Billions in projected value.

Dante continued.

“If Enzo controls your forty, he controls seventy.”

“And Vivien?”

“Her brother launders money through the Vale Foundation. Enzo finances him. They are all connected.”

Sofia looked toward Elena.

“And Marcus?”

Dante said nothing.

Elena’s chest tightened.

“Marcus helped them.”

Sofia reached for her hand.

Elena pulled away.

Not from her mother.

From everyone.

The room felt crowded with other people’s decisions.

“I want to go home.”

Sofia glanced toward the burned house.

Elena corrected herself.

“I want to go somewhere nobody knows my family history.”

Dante’s voice softened.

“My apartment is secure.”

She looked at him.

“No.”

“A hotel under another name.”

“No.”

“Elena—”

“I am not sleeping in a place selected by a man who put an engagement ring on me without asking.”

Dante’s jaw tightened.

Then he took a slow breath.

“All right.”

Sofia looked between them.

“What ring?”

“Long story.”

“Very short story,” Elena said. “Bad decision.”

Dante almost smiled.

Then the bank manager knocked.

A woman was waiting outside.

Vivien.

Still wearing her wedding dress.

The hem was dirty.

Her tiara was gone.

She looked nothing like the bride from three hours earlier.

Elena stared through the glass.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Vivien stepped inside.

Dante moved between her and the door.

“You have five seconds.”

“I’m not here for you.”

“Elena decides that.”

Vivien looked at Elena.

Her confidence had disappeared.

“I need help.”

Elena laughed.

“No.”

“Please.”

“You framed me.”

“Yes.”

“You destroyed my career.”

“Yes.”

“You sent me an invitation to your wedding.”

Vivien closed her eyes.

“That was not mine.”

“What?”

“Daniel sent it.”

Elena stared.

“My brother wanted you there.”

“Why?”

“Because he knew Dante would come.”

Dante’s expression sharpened.

Vivien continued.

“The drive was in my bouquet because Daniel put it there.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“You expect us to believe that?”

“No.”

Vivien’s voice shook.

“I expect you to believe I am scared.”

Elena looked at her wedding dress.

A smear of blood marked the sleeve.

“Whose blood?”

Vivien glanced down as though she had forgotten.

“Marcus.”

Elena’s heart kicked.

“What happened?”

“After you left, he confronted Daniel.”

“Why?”

“He finally decided to stop being useful.”

Elena’s anger did not disappear.

But fear found room beside it.

“Where is Marcus?”

“I don’t know.”

Vivien began crying.

Not prettily.

Her makeup ran beneath one eye.

“Daniel took him.”

Elena looked at Dante.

Dante’s face had gone cold.

Vivien reached into her dress and removed a second flash drive.

“This is what was supposed to be in my bouquet.”

Elena did not take it.

“What is on it?”

“Videos.”

“Of what?”

“My brother meeting Enzo.”

Dante took the drive with a handkerchief.

Vivien whispered, “And one video of Arthur Vale confessing what he did to your father.”

Elena’s breath stopped.

Vivien looked directly at her.

“Marcus recorded it before Arthur died.”

Elena stared.

Arthur Vale had died two years ago.

Natural causes, according to every obituary.

Vivien’s voice dropped.

“Marcus was never protecting his father from you.”

“He was protecting you from what his father said about your mother.”

Sofia went utterly still.

Elena turned.

“Mom?”

Sofia whispered, “Don’t.”

Vivien looked at Elena with something close to pity.

“Your mother was there the night Miguel’s medication was switched.”

Elena stepped back.

“No.”

Vivien nodded toward the drive.

“Watch it.”

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And for the first time that day, Elena became afraid the person she had trusted most was not Marcus, not Vivien, and not Dante.

It was her mother.