Chapter 3 - The Forged Memo
Dante led me out of the kitchen, ignoring Marcela’s frantic attempts to explain, and brought me upstairs to our private suite. He poured me a glass of water, insisted I sit on the sofa with my feet elevated, and then walked straight to his mahogany executive desk in the adjoining study.
He unlocked a heavy steel drawer using a biometric scanner. Inside sat his private operational files.
"She’s been doing this for months, hasn't she?" Dante asked, his back to me as he flipped through a stack of household logs and administrative schedules.
"She likes control," I said quietly, leaning back against the plush cushions. "She believes a wife who comes from a normal family needs 'training' before she’s fit to raise a Viscari heir."
Dante didn't answer. He pulled out a folded sheet of cream-colored stationery embossed with the Viscari family crest. He stared at it for a long, silent moment, then brought it over to me.
"Recognize this?" he asked.
I took the paper. It was an internal staffing memo, dated three weeks ago, directing Maria Alvarez and all kitchen staff to withhold special dietary accommodations from me under direct orders from the 'Head of Household.'
"Marcela signed your name," I breathed, looking up at him in shock.
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"She forged my signature," Dante corrected coldly, his eyes darkening with fury. "She used my authority to micromanage my home, isolate my wife, and rewrite the household rules while I was out of the country."
He reached for his phone, dialing a single speed-dial number. "Frank? Clear the executive office. I’m coming down. And have Marcela’s personal secretary wait in the lower hall. We’re going through every ledger she’s touched since we got married."
