—That number has belonged to me for twenty years.
Victoria sat down.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
Leonardo noticed.
—Mother.
She looked away.
—Did you have access to my phone?
No answer.
He walked closer.
—Did you delete Sofia’s message?
Victoria finally exploded.
—Yes!
The word struck the room like broken glass.
Leonardo closed his eyes.
She stood.
—You were twenty-four years old and prepared to throw away the Lancaster legacy!
—I loved her.
—Love doesn’t build dynasties!
—Apparently lies do.
Victoria’s lips trembled.
Then Leonardo asked:
—Did you send Vanessa into my bedroom?
She remained silent.
—Did you give her access?
Still nothing.
I understood.
It had all been staged.
The lipstick.
The perfume.
The phone call.
Everything.
My knees almost weakened.
Fourteen years.
I had spent fourteen years believing Leonardo betrayed me.
Leonardo had spent fourteen years believing I abandoned him.
And between us stood one woman who had decided she knew better than both of us.
