Chapter 3They Called Me a Freeloader in My Own Empire

I took a taxi to the old estate.

My father had bought the property before any of the other vineyards. It stood halfway up the hillside, with an olive tree in the courtyard where I drank coffee during my visits home.

Half an hour later, trucks blocked the entrance. Workers carried boxes down the steps. Building materials lined the wall. The old wooden gates were gone.

Beside the opening stood a new sign.

CAMILLA PRIVATE CLUB.

I paid the driver and climbed out.

Two men were carrying a crate containing my father's wood carvings and the hand-painted cups I used every spring. Nothing had been wrapped.

A carving slipped over the side. Before I could speak, the man behind them stepped on it.

“Stop. Put that down.”

The workers hesitated, then looked toward the courtyard.

Luca stood by the fountain with a set of plans. His car was parked beside the steps.

“Take the old furnishings to the clearance point out back,” he said. Then he noticed me. “Vera? What are you doing here?”

I picked up the broken carving. Fresh wood showed along the split.

“Coming home.” I put both pieces in my bag. “Who told you to throw out my things?”

“We're refurbishing. The old pieces don't fit the design.” He rolled up the plans. “Camilla wants a private club for buyers and representatives from the other families. A place this size shouldn't sit empty fifty weeks a year.”

“And you didn't think to tell me?”

“We hadn't got around to it. The designer just finalized the plans. The crew happened to be available.”

A drill started inside the house.

Beyond him, I could see the curtains from my father's study crumpled on the floor. The paintings above the fireplace had been removed, leaving pale rectangles on the walls.

“Stop the work,” I told the foreman. “This is my house. I haven't authorized any alterations.”

“They have a contract,” Luca interrupted. “Don't make life difficult for the workers.”

The two men still held the crate.

“Put it down,” I repeated. “Nothing in there is to be thrown away.”

Luca glanced at the foreman. Only then did he signal to the men.

“There's no need for a scene,” Luca said quietly. “If you want the old things, put them in storage. Your accommodation is already arranged.”

He held out a set of keys.

“A one-bedroom apartment in town. Close to the shops and the station. Six months' rent paid in advance. You can move in today. You like peace and quiet. You won't get that here anymore.”

I didn't take them.

“Why do you get to decide where I live?”

“Someone has to make arrangements. You can't leave everything to us and then object to every decision.”

Several workers had stopped to watch. He made no attempt to lower his voice.

“Camilla has enough to worry about. Learning to look after yourself won't hurt you.”

He stood in my courtyard holding plans for my house, explaining why he had to remove me from it.

I waited until he finished.

“The house and the land are in my name. Your authority to run the wineries doesn't let you turn my home into a club.”

“We have authorization.”

He pulled several sheets from his folder.

“Long-term lease and alteration consent. Signed yesterday afternoon. Your aunt approved them.”

I took the pages. My name appeared as the owner. My aunt had signed under a power of attorney.

“Did she know this meant making me leave?”

“She knew what the property would be used for. And I've arranged somewhere for you to live.”

“Did she know you would throw away my belongings?”

He glanced at the crate.

“Don't get caught up in details. She approved our use of the estate. We don't need to consult her about every piece of furniture.”

That morning, my aunt had told me to trust Camilla. She had already signed away the use of my home and hadn't mentioned it.

I photographed every page.

“Your aunt handled everything for you when you were a child,” Luca said. “You never revoked her power of attorney after you turned eighteen. Isn't it a little childish to reject it now?”

He laid the apartment keys on the stone ledge beside me.

I left them there.

“I'll arrange my own accommodation.”

“Do you have to make this difficult for everyone?”

“You're tearing apart my home.”

I returned the documents and went to the crate. After inspecting the cups, I asked the foreman for clean packing paper and wrapped them myself.

“Put these in storage. Keep my other possessions there too. I'll arrange collection.”

Behind me, Luca's voice hardened.

“You think those wineries can keep running without Camilla? She's been keeping your father's business going for years.”

I took photographs of the work and sent them to Sofia with the lease.

Then I called her.

“My aunt has signed a new lease using an old power of attorney. It includes alterations to my house. Please check whether she had that authority, and prepare the revocation.”

“I will. There's something else we've verified. The headquarters building is still owned by you personally. The company's use of the executive floor comes under a separate license you signed. That document permits withdrawal by written notice.”

I looked at the plans in Luca's hand.

“Prepare whatever I need to sign.”