“Alessandra never intended to enforce that agreement!”
Sofia turned on him.
“She didn’t while she was alive.”
The room went silent.
My pulse thundered.
While she was alive.
Tomas looked toward the livestream camera.
“The debt matured thirty-two days ago.”
Rafael stopped moving.
“And as of this afternoon,” Tomas continued, “documented fraud against an Aragon beneficiary has activated the conversion clause.”
Rafael looked as though someone had struck him.
“No.”
Tomas spoke calmly.
“Mr. Villareal, unless successfully challenged in court, **Celeste Aragon now holds the right to acquire fifty-two percent of Villareal Development Corporation.**”
Nobody laughed anymore.
Not one person.
Rafael had spent three years trying to marry his way into my inheritance.
And in less than three hours, his family had nearly handed me theirs.
But Rafael wasn’t finished.
Men like him rarely understand defeat until the last door locks.
“You think Celeste can run Villareal?” he snapped.
Sofia’s expression hardened.
“She already runs a company three times its size.”
That revelation caused almost as much noise as the first.
Rafael stared at his mother.
“What?”
“Chairwoman Aragon,” Sofia said deliberately.
His eyes moved toward the camera.
He finally understood the title Adrian had used.
Chairwoman.
Not heiress.
Not figurehead.
Not Lucian’s niece.
**Chairwoman.**
“For how long?” Rafael whispered.
Tomas answered.
“Seventeen months.”
Rafael sat down.
He had proposed fourteen months earlier.
All those dinners where he’d patiently explained business to me.
All those moments he’d corrected my understanding of contracts.
All those nights he’d told me the corporate world was too ugly for someone “gentle” like me.
I almost laughed.
Then Bianca began crying.
Not delicate tears.
Not influencer tears meant for cameras.
Her shoulders shook.
She reached up slowly and removed my mother’s sapphire brooch.
“There’s one more thing,” she said.
Rafael looked at her.
Something passed between them.
Fear.
Real fear.
“Bianca,” he warned.
She looked at Tomas.
“Tell her.”
Tomas hesitated.
My heartbeat slowed.
“Tell me what?”
Mara was staring at Bianca too.
Then Mara whispered:
“Oh my God.”
Bianca clutched the sapphire in her palm.
“The screenshots,” she said.
Rafael stood.
“Shut up.”
Bianca flinched.
“The messages Mara showed you weren’t recovered from Rafael’s phone.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“I sent them.”
Silence.
I stared at the screen.
Bianca wiped her face.
“I created the anonymous account.”
I could barely process the words.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“You sent Mara the screenshots?”
“Yes.”
Rafael grabbed her arm.
“You stupid—”
Security reached him before he finished.
Bianca jerked away.
“You said she would never leave you!” she screamed.
Rafael’s face twisted.
“You were supposed to help me!”
“I did help you!”
She laughed through tears.
“For three years.”
Then she turned toward the camera.
“Celeste, I need you to understand something.”
I couldn’t answer.
“Those messages were real,” Bianca said. “Most of them.”
Most?
My skin went cold.
“Rafael really planned to take your properties. Lucian really helped him. My father really knew.”
Augusto shouted, “Bianca!”
She ignored him.
“And yes, I went along with it.”
That hurt almost worse.
