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“‘No longer may Stasia work for Renaldi. No longer may Stasia take the name Renaldi. She must assume her new name, for she is no child of mine, no true sister to my sons. She belongs to another family.’”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her brothers all turned to look at her, the disbelief clearly written all over their paling faces. She tried to speak but only a sob came forth and she covered her face with her hands, crying in earnest.
This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be real. Surely she was dreaming.
“Is that all?” Matteo asked, his teeth clenched.
Stasia wiped her damp eyes, settled her hands in her lap. Is that all, her brother asked? How could there be more? She couldn’t take it. Why would her father be so cruel? And who could she belong to?
“This all sounds like complete falsehoods.” Her other brother, Vincenzo, piped up. “Why would our father do such a thing? He adored Anastasia.”
“He did, indeed. So the betrayal was extra hard for him when he discovered it,” Molinelli explained. “Now please, let me finish.”
They all resumed their silence, Stasia keeping her gaze locked on her lap, her clutched hands that rested there.
Be strong.
“‘It is with utter disgust that I acknowledge Anastasia Renaldi is the daughter of the late Michael Worth of Worth Luxury. May my deceitful wife, Claudia, be able to live with herself after all these years of passing off Stasia as my own.’” Molinelli cleared his throat. “‘And to my delightful, most likely devastated Anastasia. I am so very sorry it has to end this way. That I must make you pay for your mother’s trickery is wrong. I know this, but I am hurt and stubborn. There is no other way to make Claudia see. The damage her betrayal has brought upon this family is devastating. I hope someday, my dearest Stasia, you will understand.’”
The silence in the room was deafening. No wonder their mother didn’t want to attend the will
reading. Bitterness trickled through Stasia like melting snow. Her mother looked like an opportunistic slut compared to the pillar of fashion society everyone revered her to be.
“So Stasia is not allowed to work for the company any longer.” It wasn’t a question on Matteo’s part.
“She is not. Allowing her to continue within her position is possible grounds for termination. For all of you.”
“And who the hell would terminate us?” Rafe asked, his anger written all over his face. “It is our company. And she is our sister, no matter what that will says.”
“Just because the three of you have shares in Renaldi Accessories doesn’t mean much when you can still be overridden by the board of directors. Originally your father’s will gave Anastasia enough shares that the four of you held the majority. That’s now changed. It would do you well to remember that.”
That her brothers would still stand up for her warmed her heart.
And then she remembered they weren’t her brothers any longer. That her father’s will forced them to ostracize her, push her to discover her new family.
The Worths.
Chapter Two
One month later
“Stasia Renaldi is here to see you,” the voice chirped through the intercom.
Gavin Westmore leaned forward in his chair. “Send her in.” His latest assistant had a voice that was like fingernails on a chalkboard. Squeaky, and it set him on edge, not to mention she had issues with filing.
It appeared he was on his way to hiring a new secretary, and soon.
Closing out of a few programs on his computer, he slipped on his glasses, part of his stern, serious attorney guise. At the age of twenty-nine, he was the youngest partner at Keegan and Pearson, which made many potential clients nervous. Going to such lengths to prove his capability was annoying to say the least.
And he wasn’t about to let this new possible client slip through his fingers. He knew everything there was to know about the Anastasia Renaldi controversy. It had been the most talked about story in all of Manhattan high society for the last four weeks. A messy disinheritance, a despondent mother who refused to speak with her children—let alone the media—and three angry, somewhat protective men swirling about one single woman who appeared as defenseless as a newborn baby.
In other words, she was pure tabloid fodder. Which he could potentially make a ton of money off of.
A discreet knock sounded at the door and then it swung open, the assistant sweeping in, flashing him a saucy wink. ”Miss Renaldi is here.”
He ignored the subtle flirtation. The woman was a complete pain.
Standing straight, he pasted on his most pleasant smile as he rounded his desk to approach Anastasia Renaldi. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Renaldi. Though I’m sorry we’re having to do this under such dire circumstances.” He doubted they would run in the same social circles, doubted even further that a chance meeting between the two of them would ever happen without this family mess pushing them together.
