Chapter 3 - The Second Branch
Vivian read the message three times.
Then she called the number.
Disconnected.
She tried again.
Nothing.
Leo appeared in the doorway.
“Mom?”
Vivian locked her phone.
“Hey.”
“Are we going home?”
She looked at her son.
“Not tonight.”
“Is Dad coming?”
“I don’t know.”
Leo climbed onto the chair beside her.
For several minutes, Vivian simply held him.
She wanted to promise that everything would be normal tomorrow.
But normal had become a word she no longer trusted.
At 9:17 p.m., headlights swept across the curtains.
Vivian stood instantly.
A car door closed.
Then three knocks.
“Vivian.”
Damon.
She let him in but kept the security chain attached.
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Show me.”
“What?”
“Your car.”
Damon stepped backward.
She looked outside.
Empty.
Vivian opened the door.
Damon entered carrying a leather folder.
His tuxedo jacket was gone.
There was a bruise near his jaw.
“What happened?”
“Dad.”
Vivian stared.
“He hit you?”
“I tried taking these.”
He placed the folder on the table.
Inside were trust documents.
Vivian read silently.
The original Rossetti family trust named Damon as Frank’s successor and Leo as the next beneficiary.
A newer draft contained another name.
Olivia Claire Mercer.
But the language was strange.
Olivia wasn’t simply receiving money.
She was designated as an alternate direct descendant.
Vivian looked up.
“Direct descendant of whom?”
Damon shook his head.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”
Vivian showed him the anonymous photograph.
Damon went pale.
“Where did you get this?”
“Someone sent it.”
He studied the image.
“My father was at Olivia’s birth?”
“Apparently.”
Damon sat down.
Vivian showed him the ring inscription.
Then Second Branch Holdings.
Damon stared at the screen.
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“Someone has.”
A car passed outside.
Both of them looked toward the window.
“Dad will come looking,” Damon said.
“Let him.”
“He has people who will do whatever he asks.”
Vivian’s expression hardened.
“Then we stop treating this like a family disagreement.”
She contacted an attorney the next morning.
Rebecca Hale had represented Vivian’s mother years earlier and had no connection to the Rossettis.
Rebecca examined the documents.
“This draft isn’t executed.”
“So it means nothing?”
“Legally, right now, perhaps. But it tells us what someone intended.”
“And the ring?”
“Symbolically? A great deal. Legally? Less.”
Vivian frowned.
Rebecca continued.
“The important question is why Frank believes Olivia qualifies as a direct descendant.”
Damon looked at Vivian.
There was only one obvious answer.
But neither wanted to say it.
Rebecca did.
“Could Olivia be Frank’s daughter?”
Damon shook his head.
“She’s nine. My father is sixty-eight. It’s possible, but Claire—”
Vivian interrupted.
“What if Frank isn’t the father?”
Damon looked at her.
“What?”
“Direct descendant doesn’t necessarily mean his daughter.”
Understanding slowly appeared in Damon’s face.
“No.”
Vivian watched him.
“What?”
“No.”
“Damon.”
He stood.
“You think she’s mine?”
“I don’t think anything. I’m asking.”
“She isn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I never—”
He stopped.
Vivian felt something inside her fall.
“Never what?”
Damon stared at the floor.
“Claire and I dated.”
The room went silent.
“When?”
“Before you.”
“How long?”
“About a year.”
Vivian stepped backward.
“And you somehow forgot to mention that?”
“It ended before we met.”
“Olivia is nine.”
“I know.”
“Leo is seven.”
“I know.”
“When did you and Claire end?”
Damon did not answer.
Vivian understood.
“Damon.”
“Ten years ago.”
Olivia was nine.
The timing fit.
Vivian’s face changed.
“No.”
“I didn’t know she was pregnant.”
“You’re telling me you could be Olivia’s father?”
“I’m telling you I don’t know.”
Vivian walked away.
Every memory of Claire now rearranged itself.
Claire at Christmas dinners.
Claire attending Leo’s baptism.
Claire watching Damon across rooms.
Frank treating Olivia with unusual affection.
The ring.
The trust.
The birthday game.
Damon followed her.
“Vivian.”
“Don’t.”
“I swear I didn’t know.”
“But your father did?”
“I don’t know.”
“Stop saying that!”
Leo appeared at the hallway entrance.
Vivian immediately lowered her voice.
Rebecca gently led Damon toward the kitchen.
Vivian knelt beside Leo.
“Everything’s okay.”
Leo looked past her.
“Are you mad at Dad?”
Vivian swallowed.
“We’re figuring something out.”
Leo held out his superhero cape.
The clasp had broken.
“Can you fix it?”
Vivian smiled despite herself.
“Yes.”
That simple request reminded her what mattered.
Not the fortune.
Not Frank.
Not the Rossetti name.
Leo.
Later that afternoon, Rebecca arranged for the ring and documents to be secured.
Then another message arrived.
Same unknown sender.
You’re asking the wrong question.
A second message followed.
Olivia isn’t Damon’s daughter.
Vivian showed Damon.
His relief lasted three seconds.
Then the third message arrived.
But Frank has spent nine years making everyone believe she might be.
A photograph followed.
Claire and Frank were arguing beside a car.
On the back of the original photograph, someone had written:
THE TEST WAS NEGATIVE. FRANK BURIED IT.
Damon stared at the screen.
“If the test was negative…”
“Then why put Olivia in the trust?”
Rebecca asked the question neither could answer.
Vivian looked at Leo through the window.
Then she remembered his words.
Sometimes families choose better kids.
Frank had not been trying to recognize a forgotten child.
He had known Olivia was not Damon’s daughter.
Yet he was preparing to replace Leo anyway.
May you like
Which meant this had never been about blood.
It was about control.
