Page 32 of Greed

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Isabel and Valentina.Despite my assurances to them, they won’t fare well for long. Isabel has been on pins and needles since Jorge ... disappeared. She doesn’t have the confidence to speak English in public or to venture far from the apartment alone. She’s never held a job in the US—she was too afraid that the immigration authorities would discover her documents were forged.

Valentina just turned twelve. She can’t work. Besides, she needs to be a girl—we’ve always wanted that for her. We don’t have extra money for trendy clothes or electronics, but we do everything possible to ensure she doesn’t grow up too fast, and that her life is happy and carefree. Until Jorge started drinking heavily and disappeared, it was a happy childhood, free from the worries that burden adults.The kind every girl deserves.

Stop, Daniela. Ruminating about the past is not going to get you out of this mess. You need a plan forward.

8

Antonio

Ilean back in my office chair, the rolled leather armrests flexing beneath my hands.

This is exactly where I sat when I issued the order.“Bring her home. I want her here within the week. Use whatever means necessary to make it happen.”

Three simple sentences, strung together and spoken without a whiff of emotion. Although even then I knew there would be nothing simple about it.

Within the week.The words hung in the air, heavy and somber, while the blood pounded in my ears. I’ll never forget it.

I’ll also never forget how Cristiano and Lucas gaped at me from across the conference table that day. Faces wary. Shoulders slumped.

Having Daniela in Porto would be life-changing—for me and, to some extent, for them too. Her life would also be upended, but at the time, I had too much on my mind to consider anyone beyond the valley.

The consequences of that order still weigh heavily on me, and the real trouble hasn’t even started. Aside from a handful of trusted people, no one knows she’s here or that I’ve acquired the property.

A seismic shift will rock the region when our competitors realize that Quinta Rosa do Vale is mine, and that I hold all the cards—every single one. I snatched them up right under their noses.

When the news gets out, at best it will require extinguishing dozens of small fires. At worst it’ll be all-out war, family pitted against family. It could result in a black eye on the entire Port industry, with irreparable damage costing billions. It keeps me up at night, and I’m sure it weighs heavily on Cristiano and Lucas too.

I put it off for as long as I could, but the second my blood stained the betrothal contract, it was inevitable. We would marry, and I would be responsible for her safety. The fallout be damned.

For the first five years she was in the US, we monitored her closely. She had guards shadowing her—discreetly, of course. But otherwise I let her spread her wings.

It bought us time to prepare for a siege.

During those years, we made sure every port house got their fair share of D’Sousa grapes. Lucas also continued to plant disinformation about Daniela’s whereabouts—and cover her tracks so no one would find her. It worked.

But six months ago, something changed. Someone started looking for Daniela, and they were getting close. Her name started popping up in search engines, again, and in dark corners of the web—all encrypted, layer upon layer, so deep Lucas and his team still haven’t been able to trace the footprints.

We still don’t know who has their sights on her, but from the cryptic bits and pieces we could put together, it was clear they knew she was in New England. They hadn’t tracked her to Fall River, but it was only a matter of time. At that point, I had no choice. I could no longer keep her safe with an ocean between us.

In the last six months, we’ve made Daniela’s life hell, putting up one obstacle after another, hoping to wear her down so she’d come back of her own volition. But we underestimated her.

Despite how hellish we made it, she toughed it out.Princesasare normally more fragile—but not her. Even Lucas was impressed by her resiliency.

We were mere hours from drugging and kidnapping her across international borders when Moniz finally got her to agree to come to Porto to sign the paperwork.

There’s a quick rap on the door, and I look up as Lucas breezes in. “What took you so long?”

“Sorry. I was waylaid. We have a situation with missing cargo.”

“You are fucking kidding me.”

He shakes his head. We don’t discuss cargo in detail anywhere but the villa, where we’re not vulnerable to eavesdropping. But his scowl tells me we have a big fucking problem.

“How did it go at the lawyer’s office?”

I glower at him. “Have you heard from Cristiano?”

“They’re en route. He’ll call you on his way back from the valley.”


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