Part 7: A Choice, Not a Contract
Allegra moved into the guest suite.
It was a symbolic gesture. The guest suite was only thirty feet from Edoardo’s bedroom and had a bathroom large enough to accommodate a small orchestra.
Nevertheless, she considered it important.
When Edoardo appeared at her door carrying a tray, she narrowed her eyes.
“What’s that?”
“Dinner.”
“Are you bribing me with pasta?”
“Is it working?”
She glanced at the plate.
“Possibly.”
He placed it on the table and stepped back.
“I’ve arranged independent legal counsel for you. Someone who has never worked for me.”
“Good.”
“And the original ledger has gone to the task force, with copies secured by your lawyer.”
“Better.”
“And I’ve removed the restrictions on your movements. The security detail will be available if you want it, not imposed.”
Allegra looked up.
“Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?”
“He’s attempting personal growth.”
“How unpleasant for him.”
“Excruciating.”
She sat beside the dinner tray.
“What about Bellandi?”
“Held pending a hearing. Lucia’s statement, the financial records and the attack at the restaurant give the investigators a substantial case. His connections may still make things difficult.”
“And you?”
“My lawyers expect scrutiny of my companies. Some assets may be seized. I may face charges.”
He didn’t look away.
Allegra put down her fork.
“You’re not asking me to stay.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I already asked you to marry me without telling you everything. I won’t ask you to forgive me on the same terms.”
She watched him.
“You really are changing.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
Three weeks later, the investigation made national headlines.
Bellandi was charged with multiple offences, including conspiracy, financial crimes and involvement in the attack on Gabriele. Other investigations remained open. Allegra knew a trial would take time and that some answers might never come easily.
Edoardo’s companies faced audits and asset freezes. He resigned from management of businesses under investigation, cooperated through counsel and began selling legitimate holdings that could be separated from the organisation.
It was messy, costly and public.
He never asked Allegra to conceal anything.
One evening she found him in the garden, standing beside a stone bench.
“I’ve decided something,” she said.
He turned.
“That sounds ominous.”
“I’m not moving back into our bedroom.”
His face stilled.
“I understand.”
“Not yet.”
A pause.
“Not yet?”
“I’m still angry with you.”
“I know.”
“And I still think you’re arrogant.”
“I’ve been told.”
“And your house rules were insulting.”
“I’ve burned them.”
“Good. But I miss you.”
He said nothing.
Allegra stepped closer.
“I miss arguing with you at breakfast. I miss your terrible attempts at jokes. I miss how you listen when I talk about my father, even when you don’t know what to say.”
“Allegra—”
“Don’t interrupt. This is an exceptionally rare romantic speech.”
He closed his mouth.
“I don’t know whether we’ll be all right. Trust isn’t fixed with flowers or a kiss. You have to keep telling me the truth, even when it’s ugly.”
“I will.”
“And I have to stop treating every silence as proof of betrayal.”
He took a breath.
“I can do that work with you. For as long as it takes.”
She held out her hand.
He took it.
“Also,” she added, “if you ever write me another set of house rules, I’ll frame them above the toilet.”
He laughed.
She stepped into his arms.
This kiss was slower than the others.
There was no priest, no audience and no secret bargain. When he drew back, he rested his forehead against hers.
“I love you,” he said.
Allegra smiled.
“I know.”
“That’s all?”
“I’m considering my response.”
“Cruel woman.”
“Very.”
She kissed him again.
“I love you too, you ridiculous man.”
The following morning, Gabriele called.
“Your father’s location,” he said.
Allegra sat upright.
“What?”
“I’ve been trying to confirm it for weeks. Antonio was moved after the shooting into an unofficial protection arrangement. Bellandi’s influence made it unsafe for him to enter the ordinary witness system.”
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
Her hand shook.
“Where?”
“A coastal town in Maine. He has been living under another name. Your mother knew he had survived, but she didn’t know where he was.”
Allegra closed her eyes.
For six years she’d imagined this moment.
Now she couldn’t speak.
“Allegra?” Gabriele asked.
She swallowed.
“Send me the address.”
Then she turned to Edoardo.
“Pack a bag.”
He looked at her.
“Where are we going?”
“To meet my father.”
She took his hand.
“And you’re driving.”
