Chapter 9: What Vivian's Father Said
The call from Castellano Holdings came three days later.
Not from Vivian.
From her father, Domenico Castellano — a man Vincent had known for six years, had shared dinners with, had once considered a future father-in-law.
He called Vincent's personal number at seven in the morning, which meant he had been awake for some time and had decided that waiting was no longer useful.
"Vincent." His voice was the same as always — measured, warm at the edges, with the particular confidence of a man who had never spent much time doubting himself.
"I think we should talk."
"I agree," Vincent said.
"My attorney is available this afternoon."
"I was thinking something more informal.
Just the two of us."
"No."
A pause.
"Vincent—"
"Domenico, there is a forensic examiner's report sitting on my attorney's desk that describes, in specific technical detail, why the signature on that amendment is not my mother's.
I am not going to have an informal conversation about that.
If you want to talk, it happens through counsel."
"You're making this into something larger than it needs to be."
"You forged my mother's signature two months after she d*ed.
Tell me what size that is."
Silence.
"The property has been in dispute for over a decade," Domenico said finally.
"There were competing claims.
My firm was trying to simplify a complicated situation."
"By removing a beneficiary your client never agreed to remove."
"Your mother was not well.
She was being influenced—"
"You told Vivian the same thing.
It wasn't true then and it isn't true now." Vincent stood at his window, looking out at the city.
"My mother knew exactly what she was doing.
She was correcting a wrong that went back thirty years.
You decided that correction was inconvenient, and you removed it.
That is what happened."
Another silence, longer this time.
"What do you want?" Domenico asked.
The warmth was gone from his voice now.
"I want the amendment withdrawn.
I want a formal acknowledgment that the original codicil represents my mother's true final wishes.
I want the land development application on the Calabrian property suspended pending resolution of the beneficiary question."
"And if we don't agree?"
"Then the forensic report goes to the bar association, and we file in court, and you spend the next two years explaining to a judge why your firm notarized a document with a forged signature." Vincent paused.
"I don't think you want that.
I don't think your other clients want that either."
The line was quiet for a long time.
"I'll speak to my legal team," Domenico said.
"You have until Friday," Vincent said.
"After that, Ferrante files."
He hung up.
He stood at the window for another minute.
Then he called Clara.
She picked up on the second ring this time.
"Domenico Castellano just called me," he said.
"He wants to negotiate."
"Is that good?"
"It means he knows the position is weak.
Yes, it's good."
"What do we do now?"
"We wait until Friday.
And we let him think about it."
A pause on her end.
"Vincent.
If this works — if the property comes back — I don't know what to do with it.
I've never owned anything larger than the contents of a one-bedroom apartment."
"You don't have to decide that now."
"I know.
I just—" She stopped.
"My mother spent her whole life working.
She never complained.
She never said it was unfair.
But I used to watch her come home at night and I could see it in her face.
The weight of it.
And I always thought — I always thought there must have been a moment when things could have gone differently.
When something could have changed."
"There was," Vincent said.
"My mother tried to change it.
She just ran out of time."
"And now?"
"Now we finish it for her."
Clara was quiet for a moment.
"Thank you," she said.
It was simple and direct and she said it like she meant it, which was the only way she seemed to say anything.
May you like
"Don't thank me yet," he said.
"Wait until Friday."
