My Fiancée Humiliated a Maid at My Birthday Party—Then Her Invitation Revealed My Dead Father Had Personally Invited Her.

Victor stared down at the visitor receipt. The handwriting was identical to the signatures Celeste had placed on fifty wedding vendor contracts sitting in his office.

“Marco,” Victor said without looking up.

“I’m on it, Boss,” Marco replied. He didn't need further instructions. The veteran capo pulled his phone, barking orders into the receiver to lock down the entire estate perimeter.

Victor turned to Clara. “Why didn't you show me this six months ago? Why wait until tonight?”

“Because I didn't know who to trust,” Clara said, her fair face tight with raw emotion. “Your father told me before he died that if anything happened to him, I had to stay invisible until the night of the Bellaro anniversary gala. He told me that on this specific date, the family trust automatically renews.”

Victor’s eyes widened slightly. “The blood charter.”

“Yes,” Clara whispered. “He told me that if Celeste married you before tonight, the family assets would be legally transferred into a joint holding company under the Vance family trust. But if you received his invitation card tonight, the charter would freeze all transfers.”

Victor looked at the silver invitation card still sitting on the desk. He picked it up, flipping it over in his large hands.

Beneath the embossed Bellaro crest on the inner flap, there was a faint, raised watermark that only appeared under the direct beam of the desk lamp.

It was a bank vault account number in Zurich.

“He didn't invite you to a party,” Victor realized, his voice thick with gravity. “He named you the sole executor of his private accounts.”

Suddenly, the library doors flew open.

One of Marco’s young guards stood in the doorway, breathless, his face pale.

“Boss! It’s Julian Vance. He slipped through the terrace during the shift change. He took one of the estate SUVs!”

Victor didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t panic. “Where did he go?”