Chapter 4 - The House With Too Many Secrets
Living with Joseph was not what I expected.
There were guards.
Cameras.
Black SUVs.
Men who spoke into earpieces whenever I walked outside.
But there were also ridiculous things.
Joseph couldn't make coffee.
Not bad coffee.
He literally couldn't operate the machine.
"You own three hotels," I said.
"Hotels have employees."
"You negotiate international shipping contracts."
"They don't require foam."
I laughed so hard the baby kicked.
Joseph immediately abandoned the coffee machine.
"Was that him?"
"We don't know if it's a him."
"You keep saying him."
"I have a feeling."
Joseph crouched.
"Can I?"
I nodded.
He placed his palm against my stomach.
The baby kicked again.
Joseph smiled.
I had never seen him smile like that.
Not charming.
Not controlled.
Simply happy.
And that was becoming dangerous.
Because every day made it harder to remember we had shared one night, not a life.
Three days after I moved in, Joseph attended my ultrasound.
He sat beside me while the technician moved the wand across my belly.
Then the screen filled with our baby.
Joseph stopped breathing.
"Everything looks excellent," Dr. Patel said.
Joseph stared at the monitor.
"Can you tell the sex?"
"Absolutely."
I looked at him.
"Together?"
He nodded.
Dr. Patel smiled.
"You're having a girl."
Joseph's eyes closed.
"A daughter."
His voice cracked.
Something inside my chest did too.
Afterward, we sat in his SUV without moving.
Joseph held the ultrasound photograph.
"I don't know how to do this."
"What?"
"Be somebody's father."
"Neither do I."
He looked at me.
"You're already her mother."
"And I'm terrified."
That surprised him.
"Really?"
"Joseph, yesterday I cried because the grocery store stopped carrying my favorite yogurt."
He smiled.
"That seems reasonable."
I laughed.
Then his expression became serious.
"I want to give her my name."
My defenses rose immediately.
"That's a conversation, not a decision."
"I know."
"And I'm not marrying you because I'm pregnant."
"I didn't ask."
"Good."
"I've thought about it."
I stared at him.
His mouth twitched.
"I'm kidding."
"You are terrible at jokes."
"So I've been told."
The moment ended when Marco called.
Daniel had requested an emergency meeting.
An hour later, I sat in Joseph's study while Daniel paced before the windows.
"The trust paperwork is real," Daniel said.
Joseph leaned against the desk.
"Obviously."
"When your daughter is born, your voting authority increases."
"Correct."
"And mine decreases."
There it was.
Daniel looked at me.
"But I didn't break into Amanda's apartment."
Joseph's face remained blank.
"I didn't say you did."
"You didn't need to."
Daniel threw a folder onto the desk.
"Someone wants you looking at me."
Inside were financial statements.
Millions of dollars had been transferred through companies carrying Daniel's authorization.
Joseph examined them.
Daniel continued.
"I didn't approve those transactions."
"Convenient."
"Someone forged my credentials."
Joseph looked up.
"Who?"
"I don't know."
I noticed something on the documents.
A Portuguese abbreviation.
"Wait."
Both men looked at me.
I picked up a page.
"These aren't domestic transfers."
Daniel frowned.
"They went through Florida accounts."
"Eventually."
I traced the routing codes.
"They originated through Madeira."
Joseph stepped closer.
"You're sure?"
"I translate Portuguese banking contracts."
I pointed to the abbreviation.
"This identifies a Portuguese holding structure."
Daniel looked stunned.
Joseph didn't.
He looked furious.
"Who in the family uses Madeira?"
Daniel answered quietly.
"Your mother."
The room went silent.
"No," I said.
Joseph looked at me.
"Why not?"
"Because it's too obvious."
I spread the documents across the desk.
"Someone intercepted my letters and placed one in Isabella's safe. Now financial records point directly to her. Whoever is doing this wants you to stop asking questions once you find the easiest suspect."
Joseph stared at the papers.
Then at me.
"Keep going."
For the next two hours, I followed the transfers.
Spanish shell companies.
Portuguese holding firms.
French consulting invoices.
Whoever created the trail assumed no one in Joseph's immediate circle could read all three languages.
They were wrong.
At midnight, I found the repeating name.
"Carmona."
Joseph froze.
Marco looked over my shoulder.
"That's impossible."
"What?"
Joseph took the document.
"Mateo Carmona worked for my father."
"Worked?"
"He died twelve years ago."
I examined the date.
"This company was incorporated fourteen months ago."
Joseph looked at Marco.
"Find everything."
Marco left.
Joseph stood beside me.
"You just found something my accountants missed."
"They were looking at numbers."
"And you?"
"Language."
He stared at me with an intensity that made my pulse quicken.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"That's not nothing."
"I'm realizing I underestimated you."
I leaned back.
"Get in line."
His expression changed.
"Amanda."
"It was a joke."
"No. It wasn't."
He crouched beside my chair.
"Ryan made you believe being underestimated was normal."
I looked away.
Joseph touched my chin gently.
"I'm not Ryan."
"I know."
"Then don't expect me to become him."
The tenderness frightened me.
I stood too quickly.
The room tilted.
Joseph caught me.
"Amanda?"
"I'm fine."
Then pain tightened across my abdomen.
I gasped.
Joseph's face went white.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't know."
Another cramp.
He lifted me before I could protest.
"Joseph!"
"Marco!"
Within minutes, we were racing toward the hospital.
Joseph held my hand the entire way.
At the emergency entrance, doctors rushed me inside.
Joseph tried to follow.
A nurse stopped him.
"You need to wait here."
"I'm the father."
"You still need to wait."
The doors closed.
For forty minutes, Joseph Raldi could do absolutely nothing.
Later, Marco told me he paced until his shoes nearly wore a path through the floor.
Finally, Dr. Patel emerged.
"The baby's fine."
Joseph sagged against the wall.
"She was dehydrated and under too much stress. She needs rest."
"Anything."
"No stress."
Joseph almost laughed at the impossibility.
Then the doctor handed him my belongings.
My phone buzzed.
A new message.
Joseph looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
STOP DIGGING INTO CARMONA OR NEXT TIME SHE LOSES THE BABY.
Joseph's expression went cold.
But when he entered my hospital room, he hid the message.
May you like
That would become his first mistake.
Because someone else had already sent the same warning to me.
