Chapter Two
2116 Words
Catalina woke to the smell of fresh coffee, a calm scent that called her muscles from tortured slumber.
For half a second, she panicked; the gray walls looked nothing like her and Marcus’s room. Then, the morning chill flooded her with images.
Gianna and Marcus. The rain. Bernard.
She turned her head slowly.
The bed was soft, yellow sheets gliding off her skin. The oversized T-shirt hung off her shoulder, the collar stretched and soft from wear. A lone sad smile spread across her lips. Funny how the clothes of another man fit her loosely, whilst her husband just tried to suffocate her with his gift.
The door creaked softly, letting in a tall man, auburn hair, and a lazy smile on his chiseled face.
“Hey,” Bernard said, his voice tender, like he was approaching a skittish animal. “I guess coffee is your wake-up drug. How do you feel?”
She looked up at him. He stood in the doorway holding a mug in each hand, one of which was extended in her direction, with dark circles under his eyes and hair rumpled. He’d slept badly, too.
Bernard had always been her rock. A silent protector in the shadow of her life. Back in college, she had believed they might have ended up together, as her grandmother said, but she had been deceived by an entrepreneur who just tore her out.
Oh, what she wouldn’t give to turn back time and listen to Bernard’s advice about Marcus. Somehow, he must have foreseen this ending.
“I feel awful.’’ She replied, taking the mug from him and gulping the first luxurious taste of Brazilian wake-up juice. ‘‘What time is it?” she asked.
“3PM. Are you hungry? We can order Korean fried chicken or something.” He smiled ruefully.
Catalina’s stomach dropped.
“I have been asleep for ten hours? Why didn’t you wake me up?” She reached blindly for her phone on the bedside table. The screen lit up instantly.
Notifications flooded it.
Messages. Missed calls. News alerts.
She didn’t open any of them. She didn’t need to. The lock-screen preview alone was enough.
DELUCA'S WIFE FLEES ANNIVERSARY IN TEARS.
A PUBLIC MELTDOWN.
TROUBLE IN MAGNATE PARADISE?
Her own face stared back at her in the thumbnail, mascara-streaked, mouth open mid-sob, dress soaked to her skin.
Catalina scoffed, turning the phone face down. Those vultures! Of course, the media got a photo of her already. She wondered what Marcus was doing to save face in this situation.
The bed dipped as Bernard took her hands in his, the white T-shirt stretched over his muscles. “You don’t have to look. Those blogs say anything for views.”
“Well, they are right on the money this time.’’ ‘‘Trouble in Paradise.’’ She added in air quotes.
He hesitated. “Do you feel up for a stroll? The fresh air will do you good.”
She laughed, the sound almost maniacal. “I just want to lie here and do nothing for a while. Hope I am not imposing? You must have other things to do than nurse a friend crying about her cheating husband like a fool.” Her voice broke at the end, the sob racking her shoulders, hot streaks of tears flowing down her cheek.
‘‘Oh, Tali,’’ Bernard said, gathering her in his arms. ‘‘You will never be a bother. I like taking care of you.’’
They stayed there for what felt like hours before she spoke.
“I want to go home.’’
Bernard released her, a hard frown set on his face. “Catalina-”
“I need my clothes, documents, and my grandma’s stuff,” she said. “I want to pack and leave that house, rent a place, and start over. I don’t want to ever see his face again except in court.”
Bernard exhaled slowly. “Okay. We’ll go together.”
She swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll pay you back. For this. The clothes. Everything.”
He stood. “Don’t insult me. Take a shower and meet me downstairs.’’
She didn’t argue. She just nodded, heading to the bathroom.
Downstairs, as Bernard grabbed his keys, a thought flashed through her mind, and Catalina pulled out her phone and made a transaction.
Withdrawal failed.
She tried again.
Insufficient funds.
Her fingers stilled.
“That’s… not possible,” she murmured. She checked the transaction history on her bank app.
The page loaded.
$0.00
$0.00
$0.00
She scrolled down to the end, and the earth disappeared from her feet. $30 million dollars withdrawn.
Her breath hitched.
‘‘Hey, are you okay?’’ Bernard asked, his hand steadying her to himself
“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no.”
“Tali, what is it?”
She refreshed the page. Again. Again.
Still zero.
Her hands began to shake. “Someone tell me this is some f*****g nightmare.”
She dialed her account officer with trembling fingers. The woman picked up on the second ring.
“Mrs. DeLuca-”
“What the f**k happened to my money?” Catalina demanded. ‘‘Who liquidated my accounts?!’’
There was a brief pause as keys clacked on the keyboard down the phone.
“The full withdrawal was authorized late last night,” the woman said carefully.
“What the hell do you mean by authorized?! I didn’t authorize anything. Isn’t it part of your job to check before moving money from my accounts? Get your team to initiate a full reversal right now.”
“We can’t do that, Mrs. DeLuca. As the withdrawal was authorized by your power of attorney, it is a legal transaction.”
The words didn’t land at first.
“My what?” Catalina asked in disbelief.
“Mr. Marcus DeLuca,” he said. “He is the authorized power of attorney on your accounts, according to the signed paperwork I am looking at. You gave him power of attorney three years ago.’’
The room blurred.
She remembered Marcus sliding papers across the table one night when she was half awake. He called them property renewal documents. She never read them. Dear God, she never read them.
Mrs. Deluca? Are you there?’’
The phone slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor.
“Catalina! What is wrong?”
“He took everything,” Her hand slapped over her mouth. She inhaled sharply, forcing the air to go down the right pipe as black dots danced before her vision. ‘‘Take me to Marcus.’’
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The mansion gates opened reluctantly, like they were resisting her return.
Inside, the staff wouldn’t meet her eyes. A maid hurried past with her head down. A guard shifted uncomfortably.
Catalina couldn't care less what their new orders were; her soon-to-be-ex-husband was a thieving bastard who had to answer to her.
‘‘Where is Marcus?’’ She asked the closest maid.
“Mr. DeLuca has asked not to be disturbed,” one of them said weakly.
Catalina squeezed her phone tightly into her palm, a single crack spreading across the screen as her knuckles turned white. ‘‘Now that’s sad. I intend to disturb him.’’
She brushed past her into the sitting room, Bernard trailing behind her.
Marcus was waiting for them, a smug grin on his face like he had all the time in the world. A single bored glance assessed Catalina before turning away.
Gianna sat beside him, legs crossed, tablet balanced on her knee. The family attorney stood nearby, a neutral expression on his face.
“Well,” Marcus said pleasantly. “You’re back home, dear wife.”
Catalina stared at him. “Where is my money, Marcus? How dare you steal my Inheritance with false power of attorney documents, you f*****g bastard!’’
Marcus scoffed, leaning back into the plush settee. “Just a couple of hours rolling in the hay with the riff-raff, and you have become coarse, Catty. It doesn’t suit you.”
Realization dawned on Catalina as she fully registered the Family attorney’s presence. ‘‘Wow.’’ She laughed, the sound coming in waves, each one a little worse than the last, until she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and forced it down.
“I see what you are trying to do here. You stole from me,and now you want to make it seem like I am the bad guy? Really?”
Marcus smiled and clasped his hands together slowly. “What do you mean by stole? You gave it to me, as a good wife should.”
She stepped forward. “I want my shares and money back, Marcus. It is my Inheritance, and I have equal rights to DeLuca holdings.”
Marcus raised his hand, getting a folder from the attorney, which he slid across the table. “Sign these.”
“You think I’ll sign anything after what you did? You must think I am as stupid as your airheaded mistress! GIVE ME BACK MY MONEY.”
Gianna leaned in and kissed Marcus’s cheek. “She really sounds coarse, babe,” she said. “Befitting for a disgraced heiress, right?”
Catalina’s hand flew out.
Thwack!
The sound echoed throughout the room.
Gianna gasped, her hand holding the assaulted cheek. Marcus’s eyes darkened.
“Sign the divorce papers and get out, Catalina. We are through,” he said coldly.
Catalina let go of the death grip on her cellphone and picked up the pen, her straight signature appearing on the dotted line.
She stood. “You’ll regret this, Marcus. You will pay for all your sins in this lifetime.”
Marcus laughed. “And how exactly will you fight me? Get out of my property. The maids have your rags by the door.”
‘‘Let’s go, Tali.’’ Bernard took her hand in his as they walked out of the room. As the car sped out of the mansion, a sigh of relief crept through the desolation. She was free.
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Back at the flower store, Catalina sat in the corner, sketchbook open.
Her hand moved on instinct. Lines. Angles. Structure.
The bell jingled, and a shadow fell across the page.
“That’s a good building,” a voice said. “I’d live there if you built it.”
She didn’t look up. “Move it along. I am not in the mood to talk.”
The voice let out a rich laugh. ‘‘You are as catty as Elizabeth said. Her spitting image in a way. ”
Catalina’s head snapped up at the mention of her grandmother’s name.
A gray-haired man stood next to the table, his blue eyes seemed familiar, yet she couldn’t remember where she knew him from. Her eyes caught Bernard as he attended to a customer at the counter. She nodded him off.
“Who are you, and how do you know my grandmother?”
The man smiled, stretching a hand towards her. “The name is Michael Richards, and I know Elizabeth from a lifetime ago. She made me every bit of the man I am today, and I am here to offer you a proposition for her sake.’’
He pulled out the chair. “You have the same fire I saw in Elizabeth’s eyes many years ago, and I want to give you a stage to refine it.” He said quietly, “What do you say to owning a legacy of your own?”
She met his gaze. “No offense, but you just dropped out of nowhere with this offer. How do I know this isn’t some ruse to one-up me later? What do you get from this deal?”
He laughed again. ‘‘Spoken like a true businesswoman. Rest assured, Catalina. I will ask for a reward at the right time. You can take that look from your face; it’s not a marriage proposal. So, will you take my hand?’’
Catalina closed the sketchbook, taking his still outstretched hand in a firm handshake.
“Where do we start?”
He smiled wider. “Well, darling, everything from now leads to Milan.”
- Writer
