Chapter 3

The council room on the second floor of the Marchetti manor smelled of wet wool and cold cigar smoke.

By order of the witness rule, Joseph could not hide behind locked doors or dismiss the challenge with a wave of his hand.

Around the mahogany table sat the inner circle once more: the senior family lieutenants, the old consigliere, Joseph's eldest aunt, and several regional heads who had traveled from the city.

A few seats down, Holly sat quietly.

She still wore the ancient emerald heir ring on her right index finger, but her hands were tucked deep beneath the table, away from the light.

Across from them, the black envelope lay beside the open ledger.

Its scratched wax seal faced the old consigliere, who had placed a folded linen handkerchief beneath it rather than let it touch the Marchetti record book.

At the head of the table, Joseph Marchetti stared down at the text.

His signature sat above the blank space, dark and final.

But directly beneath it, written in Eloise's sharp, uncompromising hand, were her counter-conditions.

Joseph's face did not flush with anger.

Instead, a cold, mocking smile touched the corners of his mouth.

He looked up, his slate-gray eyes locking onto Eloise, who stood quietly near the back of the room with Sophie by her side.

"You invoke the witness rule over a brick house in Tarrytown?" Joseph's voice carried easily across the silent room, rich with condescension. "You want every household in the valley to watch you negotiate an exit strategy?"

"I want the terms recorded where no one can alter them," Eloise replied, her voice level. "You wanted a public succession trial, Joseph. This is part of it."

"You signed that house into Marchetti holdings twenty years ago," Joseph said.

"My mother left it to me," Eloise replied. "You transferred the deed after we married."

Joseph tapped the pen once against the ledger. "And now you want it back."

"I want you to stop calling stolen property shelter."

Joseph ran one finger beneath the clause and read it aloud.

"Upon the formal conclusion of Round Three, regardless of which daughter wins, the deed, the separation agreement, and protection for both girls take effect."

A faint smirk touched his mouth. To Joseph, the concession cost nothing. He had designed the trial to produce only one winner.

"You could have asked for a divorce years ago," Joseph said, leaning back in his leather chair.

"I did," Eloise said. "You told me women did not leave the Marchetti family with their children."

Joseph's smile thinned.

He shifted his gaze toward Sophie. "And protection? You want Marchetti guards to protect the daughter who loses?"

Elissa folded her hands over the table.

"Why are you protecting Holly, Eloise?" she asked. "If your daughter wins, Holly is cast out. Why demand safety for a girl you've spent seventeen years resenting?"

Sophie stepped forward slightly, her dark eyes flashing. "Because she didn't choose how she was born."

Elissa's eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second, surprised by the girl's composure, before she placed two fingers against Joseph's sleeve.

"Sign it," Elissa said.

Joseph looked down at the ledger, weighing the words.

He looked at Elissa. She gave him one small nod.

Whatever passed between them lasted less than a second. It was enough.

"One condition," Joseph said, looking up at Eloise. "Neither mother contacts a proctor, judge, school official, or testing employee. Any attempt to influence a round will be treated as interference."

He paused, letting the weight of the rule settle over the room.

"If either mother interferes, her daughter is removed to a neutral family residence under the council's supervision until the trial is resolved. No private contact with either parent."

Eloise did not answer immediately.

"The same applies to Elissa?" she asked.

"The same applies to both mothers," Joseph said.

"And the girls go to the same neutral residence?"

Joseph held her gaze. "Yes."

Elissa answered before he could reconsider. "Agreed."

Eloise gave a slow, measured nod. "Agreed."

"Very well," Joseph said.

Joseph read the counterterms one final time.

Then he signed. Slowly. Cleanly. Without pressing hard enough to leave so much as an impression on the next page.

His calm unsettled Eloise more than anger would have.

He gestured to the old consigliere, who stepped forward with a small brass bowl of red wax and a heavy velvet box.

The old man poured a small circle of red wax beneath the signatures, and Joseph took the brass Don's seal, pressing the Marchetti crest deep into the cooling liquid.

Joseph snapped the ledger shut.

"The terms are locked," Joseph announced, standing up to loom over the table. "The first trial begins tomorrow at nine. The girls will sit for separate versions of the same academic test at St. Agnes Academy. Three council-appointed proctors will supervise. Neither mother enters the building. Results will be announced three days later at the family gathering."

He looked directly at Eloise.

"What is that?" Joseph suddenly asked, his gaze drifting down to the black envelope resting beside the ledger.

"Supporting authority for the witness claim," the old consigliere said quietly.

"Whose seal?"

The old man kept his hand on the envelope. "A recognized one. That is all the rule requires."

Joseph studied the envelope for another moment. Then he looked away.

"A seal does not win a trial," he said.

"One final question, Eloise," Joseph said, his voice dropping an octave. "What score are you expecting from Sophie?"

Eloise looked down at her daughter.

Sophie was watching her, still waiting for some part of the plan to be explained.

"Zero," Eloise said.

Joseph did not laugh. He looked at Sophie instead.

"Did you know your mother had already decided you would fail?"

Sophie's hand moved instinctively toward the wrist where the silver bracelet was no longer resting.

"Mom?" she whispered.