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Why am I the only one who cares about preserving our family business? Our legacy?

"This is ridiculous," I mutter. I move to the door.

The guard by the door straightens. "Something wrong, Miss Monti?"

"I need to use the restroom," I lie, another skill I’ve mastered over the last year.

He hesitates. "I can show you to the powder room."

"I know where it is," I say, already in the hall. "Unless you plan to follow me there too?"

His cheeks redden. "Of course not, Miss. Just… please return directly afterward."

I give him a sweet smile. "Naturally."

Once in the hallway, I head toward the bathroom, but as soon as I'm out of the guard’s sight, I change direction.

Marco's office is just across the hall.

Heart pounding, I check over my shoulder as I open the door and quickly slip inside, shutting it behind me.

The meeting will last at least another hour.

Plenty of time to search Marco's office for any evidence of what he's planning for my father's territory.

I’m surprised to find an icing laden cookie covered in sprinkles on his desk.

I assume it’s something Roman’s daughter made.

I’m sure Marco doesn’t appreciate the gesture from the child or Roman. I can’t believe I was falling for a man like that.

My hands shake as I rifle through the papers on Marco's immaculate desk. This is beyond dangerous.

These men have killed for less than what I’m doing now.

Everything is organized as if Martha Steward herself came in with her label maker and files.

It's infuriating how methodical he is, how controlled, while my life has been chaos since I walked away from him.

"Come on, come on," I mutter, scanning documents for anything about my father's territory.

I should've pressed Luca harder to come home. My brother's loyalty to the family business in Italy is admirable, but his place is here now, helping Dad.

The few times we've spoken about Dad's issues, Luca's dismissed my concerns. "He's just getting older, Gabriella. Everyone gets a little forgetful as they age. Stop worrying so much."

But my father isn’t just forgetting little things. He’s forgetting big things.

He’s more often confused and struggles to find the right words.

My father needs protection from his own declining faculties and from vultures like Marco.

For all I know, Dom and Leo are a part of it as well.

And right now, they’re in a meeting probably confusing my father, manipulating him to hand over power.

I pull open the middle drawer, finding a folder markedMonti Holdings—Quarterly Reports.

My breath catches. I knew it!