Katarina De Luca POV:
The next evening, the long, polished table in the main dining room felt like a battlefield. The air was thick with unspoken tension, colder than the chilled silverware.
Donato De Luca, the patriarch, sat at the head of the table. His eyes, old but still sharp as a hawk's, swept over each of us in turn.
Alessandro was on his right, his expression a thundercloud of resentment. And, for the first time ever, Aria was seated at the table, next to him. She was practically vibrating with a mixture of excitement and nerves, a blatant trophy of his defiance.
I sat at Donato’s left, dressed in a simple, impeccably tailored black dress. My face was a placid mask. To any observer, last night had never happened.
I focused on cutting my steak into precise, even pieces, feeling Aria's triumphant, goading stare from across the table.
Halfway through the silent meal, Donato dabbed his lips with a linen napkin. "Katarina," he said, his voice a low gravel. "The Nordic deal. What is the outcome?"
Alessandro’s entire body went rigid. He was expecting an accusation, a tearful complaint.
I placed my knife and fork down, delicately touched my own napkin to my lips, and then met my father-in-law's gaze with a polite smile. "It was a complete success, Father. I placed all the relevant files and the final ledger in Alessandro’s study last night."
My words were a masterpiece of insinuation. I confirmed my success, explained my presence in the study, and yet revealed nothing.
Donato gave a slow, satisfied nod. "Good. You always bring value to this family."
That was my opening. He respected value above all else.
"Speaking of value," I said smoothly, "I have another document here I believe you'll find interesting."
From the handbag at my side, I produced a slim, bound report. I handed it to the footman, who carried it to the head of the table.
Alessandro and Aria stared, a flicker of uncertainty in their eyes.
Donato put on his reading glasses and opened the report. The title was printed in stark, black letters: *De Luca Family Charitable Foundation Annual Audit (Informal)*.
He read, his brow furrowing deeper with every page he turned.
I provided the context, my voice calm and professional. "I conducted this audit in my spare time. I discovered several large disbursements to a series of shell corporations and personal accounts. The purpose of these payments is unclear, totaling over three million dollars."
At the mention of that number, Aria’s face went white. The fork in her hand clattered against her plate.
I caught her reaction in my periphery but kept my focus on Donato. "All of these expenditures bypassed the standard approval protocols. They were pushed through on Alessandro's signature alone."
The arrow had two targets, and it hit both.
"What is the meaning of this?" Alessandro hissed, his voice low and furious.
"I am simply fulfilling my duty as the lady of this house," I replied, my tone unassailable. "Ensuring that every dollar of the family's money is accounted for."
I wasn't attacking his infidelity. I was attacking a breach of business protocol. I was speaking Donato’s language.
Aria looked at Alessandro, her eyes wide with panic. She knew exactly where that money had gone. To her investments, her shopping sprees, her life of borrowed luxury.
Donato closed the report. He tapped his finger on the cover, a slow, rhythmic sound that echoed the frantic beating of my heart.
The entire room held its breath.
He turned his cold eyes on his son. "Is this true?"
Alessandro was trapped. "It was a minor expense, Father. Nothing to make a scene about."
"Three million is a minor expense?" Donato’s voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of absolute authority. "The rules are the rules."
His gaze shifted to the pale, trembling Aria, and he looked at her as if she were a piece of faulty equipment.
Finally, his eyes came back to me. And for the first time, I saw a flicker of genuine approval. "You handled this well," he said. "So, in your opinion, what should be done?"
