The Emerald Heiress (Aurelia) novel Chapter 5

By noon, Leo had assembled a full dossier on Corsetti Holdings.

I spread the documents across my desk, scanning each page with the precision of someone defusing a bomb.

Roman Corsetti. Age thirty-four. Inherited his father’s mid-tier real estate empire at twenty-six and tripled its value in under five years. On paper, he was a legitimate businessman — commercial developments, luxury hotels, a philanthropic foundation.

But I knew better.

The Corsetti family had deep roots in old-money networks that didn’t show up on any balance sheet. The kind of connections that could make a corporation vanish overnight or bury a scandal so deep it would never surface.

Roman and I had history. Not the kind I ever talked about.

We had met seven years ago, before my parents died, before I inherited Ashford Capital, before I made the catastrophic decision to marry Derek Blackwell. I was twenty, studying abroad in London, and Roman was the brooding Italian-American who sat in the back of my economics lecture and never took notes but aced every exam.

We had been inseparable for one semester.

Then my parents’ plane went down, and I disappeared from everyone’s life — including his.

I never explained. Never said goodbye. Just vanished.

And now Vanessa Hale — my ex-husband’s mistress — was climbing into his car.

“Leo.” I didn’t look up from the file. “What’s Vanessa’s connection to Corsetti?”

Leo pulled up a tablet. “According to social media, Vanessa worked briefly as an event coordinator for Corsetti Holdings about two years ago. There are photos of her at several Corsetti-hosted galas.” He paused. “There’s also a rumor — unconfirmed — that she and Roman were romantically involved before she started seeing Derek.”

My stomach tightened.

So Vanessa had gone from Roman’s orbit to Derek’s bed, and now she was running back. The question was — why?

Before I could dig deeper, my desk phone rang. The caller ID read: *Front Desk — Security.*

“Ms. Ashford, there’s a delivery for you. No sender name. The security team has already screened it. It’s… a box.”

“Send it up.”

Two minutes later, Leo placed a matte black box on my desk. No card. No label. Just a small gold clasp.

I opened it.

Inside, resting on black velvet, was a single white chess piece.

A queen.

My blood went cold.

Then: *”Dinner. Tonight. 8 p.m. You know the place.”*

I did know the place. A small Italian restaurant on the Lower East Side that we used to frequent in the summers when he visited New York. The kind of place with checkered tablecloths and a seventy-year-old owner who made pasta by hand.

Every instinct told me to ignore the message.

But Roman Corsetti didn’t reach out without reason. If Vanessa was connected to him, I needed to know how deep it went. And whether the Blackwell mess was bigger than a cheating husband and a stolen necklace.

I picked up the chess piece, turning it slowly between my fingers.

Then I typed: *”I’ll be there at 8. Don’t be late.”*

His response was immediate.

*”I’m never late. You’re the one who disappeared.”*

I set the phone down.

This was no longer just about Derek.