He was tall, silver-haired, and wore a smile that never reached his eyes.
In his left hand was a leather folder.
"Good evening." He looked past Elena at the bare room — the single cot, the cracked walls, the kerosene lamp on a wooden crate.
His expression didn't change.
"Miss Castillo, your father is waiting at the estate.
The car is here to take you home."
"I'm not going anywhere."
Victor opened the folder.
"I brought the engagement contract.
Your signature is the only thing missing.
The Whitmore family is expecting the announcement by morning."
"I'm not marrying Alistair Whitmore."
"Then perhaps you should ask your companion why he visited your father's office two months ago." Victor's gaze shifted to Marcus.
"Did you think that would stay private?"
Elena didn't flinch.
"I already know."
That wiped the smile off Victor's face.
"You know?"
"I know he went to ask for my father's blessing.
I know my father tried to buy him off.
And I know my father threatened his job." Elena stepped forward.
"Is that supposed to scare me?"
Victor closed the folder slowly.
"It should.
Because the threat is still active.
As of this morning, Marcus no longer has a position at Hargrove Construction."
Marcus's face went white.
"What?"
"Hargrove is a subsidiary of the Castillo Group.
Your termination was signed at four o'clock this afternoon.
Effective immediately."
Elena felt the floor tilt.
"You can't do that."
"I already have." Victor held out the folder.
"Your father's terms are simple.
Come home.
Sign the contract.
Marry Alistair.
And Marcus will be reinstated with a raise.
Refuse, and he's blacklisted from every subcontractor in the region."
Marcus sat down on the edge of the cot.
His hands hung between his knees.
He looked at the floor.
"Elena," he said quietly.
"Maybe you should go."
"Don't say that."
"He can take everything from me.
He already has."
"That's exactly what he wants you to think." Elena turned to Victor.
"How long have you worked for my father?"
Victor raised an eyebrow.
"Nineteen years."
"And in those nineteen years, how many times has he asked you to do something that wasn't strictly legal?"
The two men behind Victor shifted their weight.
Victor's jaw tightened.
"That's not relevant."
"It is if the marriage isn't really about the family empire."
Victor's eyes narrowed.
"What are you talking about?"
Elena pulled her phone from her purse.
She held it up.
On the screen was an email — forwarded from an address she didn't recognize.
"Alistair Whitmore's wife sent me this," Elena said.
"His first wife.
The one nobody talks about.
She's alive, Victor.
They never legally divorced.
The annulment was handled by a court the Castillo Group funded.
The church never recognized it.
She's been living in Bristol for six years."
Victor's face went still.
"She also sent me bank records.
Payments from the Castillo Group to a shell company in Liechtenstein.
Forty-seven transfers over three years.
All signed off by my father." Elena lowered the phone.
"This marriage isn't about securing the empire.
It's about securing Alistair's family's investment to cover the money my father has been moving.
Isn't it?"
The room went silent.
Victor closed the folder.
He looked at the two men behind him.
"Wait outside."
"Sir—"
"Wait outside."
The men left.
Victor stepped inside the small room and closed the door behind him.
He stood there for a long moment, looking at the floor.
When he looked up, the cold professional mask was gone.
The lines around his mouth had deepened.
His shoulders dropped an inch.
"Your father told me Alistair was single," Victor said quietly.
"And you didn't check?"
"I was told not to."
Elena crossed her arms.
"What else haven't you been told to check?"
Victor looked at her.