Sweat beads my hairline as I tiptoe out of the office. I’ve just closed the door behind me when I hear a creaking in the hall. I freeze, flattening myself against the wall, but I see nothing in the shadows. Swallowing hard, I hurry back the way I came, out the side entrance, and run for the car. I don’t think I breathe again until the mailbox is disappearing in my rearview mirror.
On autopilot now, I drive directly to the Alvarezes’ fruit stand. It’s a little busy this time of morning. There’s a line of people waiting to get coffee and breakfast sandwiches for their morning commute, so I let myself in through the back door and fill up a cup of strong black coffee before going back out and sitting at a café table in the early sun. Delores sees me and gives a little wave before returning to her customers. Moments later, she rushes over with a guava pastry, giving my shoulder a squeeze before rushing back to the register. Just that small gesture is enough to imbue me with a sense of calm. I’m safe here.
Taking a few deep breaths, I turn to the contract, sipping coffee and devouring the flaky pastry as I carefully read over the convoluted legalese filling the pages. And then, I see it.
“… transferal to Francesca Carina Abriana Abbott and Dante Bellantiorher legal spouse…”
I have to read the sentence again.
I can’t believe what I’m seeing here in black and white. The contract doesn’t simply stipulate that the winery belongs to Dante free and clear—its ownership transferal is dependent on mebeingmarried. My father’s signature effectively transferred the Abbott Winery to me and my husband in a 50/50 split. Something Dante never deigned to tell me.
My hand is shaking as I set down my coffee. What a fool I am. How could I have not read this contract in depth until now? These pieces of paper bind my life.
But wait.
I read the line again, the words sinking in with a clarity they hadn’t before.
Or her legal spouse. Not Dante.
Which means one half of the Abbott Winery actually belongs to…toRico.
I try to grab my coffee but fail. It topples over, spilling hot liquid over the edge of the table and onto my leg. I barely notice, still in shock as the truth of what I’ve just read crashes through my mind again and again. I own half the winery, and Rico owns the other half.
Dante doesn’t own a goddamn thing.
Leverage. That’s what this is. Dante will have to talk to me now. I’m determined to make my case.
I feel numb as I get up from the table and head back to the car. I can’t think straight as I drive to Bellanti Vineyards. I need to figure out exactly what I’m going to say to him, but the words won’t come. How could he keep this information from me? This entire time, he acted as if he owned me…when in reality, his ownership of the Abbott grapes wasdependent on me.
Before I can overthink it, I park the car in the gravel drive and head to the Bellanti offices. He’s going to listen to me. He has to. If he wants this winery, he’ll have to deal with me.
I’m trembling with anxiety and excitement and a weird type of hope as I tap in the keycode on the door. The little light flashes red at me. Maybe I typed it in wrong. I try the code again, more carefully this time, and get the same result. What the hell?
I’m about to text Armani to let me in when the door suddenly opens from inside. I’m relieved, until I glance up from my phone to see Jessica’s smirking face.
“You’ve been relieved of your duties here at Bellanti Vineyards,” she says. “I’ll try to remember to send your final paycheck to…do you even have a home address, or…?”
I don’t have time for this shit. I try to push past her, but she moves to block me.
“Get out of my way,” I snarl. “I need to talk to him.”
She looks me up and down and then smirks. “He’s not interested.”
The innuendo in her voice pisses me off even more.
“I think he’ll beveryinterested in what I have to say, actually. And didn’t he fire you?”
She laughs, but I just take advantage of the moment to push past her and storm inside the building. I make sure to raise my voice loud enough that I know Dante or one of his brothers will hear it. I don’t care if I make a scene.
“I’m here for the financial records for Abbott Winery. Which, according to my marriage contract, I co-own with my husband.”
Jessica appears in front of me again, her arms crossed. “Dante is not your husband.”
I smile. “Oh, I know. Which means, legally, he has zero claim on my family’s winery anymore. Or maybe I should call my lawyer for clarification.”
I yell that last part real loud. There’s a shuffle of footsteps and Dante suddenly appears in the hallway, flanked by Armani and Marco. I wave the marriage contract in the air.
“Read your contract, Dante. You don’t own one goddamned Abbott grape.”
