Chapter 9 - Vincent Found the Prenuptial Clause Bianca Hated
Before the Friday signing, Vincent brought one more piece of context.
The original prenuptial agreement.
Lorenzo had almost forgotten the relevant clause because, when he signed it before marrying Bianca, it seemed routine.
Bianca retained everything she brought into the marriage.
Lorenzo retained the Duca family assets and company interests he already owned.
If they separated, Bianca would receive a generous fixed settlement and nothing from several protected accounts.
She had signed without protest.
At least publicly.
Vincent had been present.
“You remember what she said afterward?”
Lorenzo frowned.
“No.”
“She joked that she’d have to stay married to you forever because divorce wasn’t profitable.”
Lorenzo’s mouth tightened.
“At the time it was funny.”
“I know.”
The temporary financial-management amendment would not erase the prenup.
But it would give Bianca control of enough liquid assets during Lorenzo’s recovery to move money into jointly managed vehicles, authorize lifestyle expenses, and reshape several private accounts.
Not theft automatically.
Not irreversible.
But valuable.
Very valuable.
Vincent said:
“Her attorney drafted the amendment eight days after your accident.”
Lorenzo went still.
“Eight days?”
“Yes.”
Before doctors even knew how much mobility or sight he might regain.
Before he returned to the penthouse.
Before Bianca could plausibly argue long-term caregiving exhausted her.
The timing damaged the final story Lorenzo had been telling himself.
Maybe greed arrived later.
Maybe fear changed her.
Maybe the wheelchair kick came after weeks of resentment.
The documents did not prove she married him for money from day one.
Her own words in the living room came closer to that.
I married you for what you own.
Still, Lorenzo wanted one distinction preserved.
People sometimes say the ugliest possible thing when angry.
The paper showed she had acted on financial opportunity almost immediately.
That mattered more.
Mia sat nearby during part of the conversation, drawing while Natalie spoke with the housekeeper in another room.
She looked up.
“Is Bianca going to jail?”
Vincent almost choked.
Lorenzo answered:
“No one said that.”
“But she did bad papers.”
“She tried to get me to sign something without telling me what it was.”
Mia considered.
“That’s lying.”
“Yes.”
“Then why don’t you just tell her you know?”
Lorenzo looked at his niece.
There it was.
The question adults complicated because children did not care about pride, marriage, image, or strategy.
Why not simply confront her?
“Because I want to know if she tells me the truth when I give her one last chance.”
Mia frowned.
“What if she doesn’t?”
Lorenzo looked toward the penthouse windows.
“Then I stop asking.”
Mia returned to her drawing.
After a moment she said:
“My mom says people who keep asking the same question usually already know the answer.”
Vincent laughed.
Lorenzo did not.
Because Natalie was right.
The signing had stopped being about discovering Bianca.
Lorenzo had already discovered her.
Friday would be about whether he was willing to accept what he knew.
And that was harder.
Bianca was still his wife.
He still remembered their first winter together.
Her asleep on his shoulder during a flight to Boston.
Her teasing him for working through Christmas Eve.
Her hand in his when he woke after the accident.
Those memories had been real too.
A person could betray you later without making every earlier tenderness fake.
Lorenzo needed to let both things exist.
Otherwise he would spend the next year trying to solve his marriage like a crime scene instead of admitting it had become unsafe.
Vincent closed the prenup folder.
“You don’t owe her another chance.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you giving one?”
Lorenzo put his sunglasses back on.
“Because tomorrow I want the last lie to belong to her.”
Not to fear.
Not to Vincent.
Not to Mia.
May you like
Not to blindness.
Her.
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