Chapter 14 - THE SECRET RAFFAELE TOOK TO HIS GRAVE
Raffaele Marino had known I existed before I was born.
Not because of prophecy.
Thank God.
Because Rose told him my mother was pregnant.
The “child” in the trust note was not my future child.
It was me.
I stared at my mother.
“You could have explained that earlier.”
She looked offended.
“I was kidnapped twice.”
Fair.
The thirty million had been reserved for me.
Education.
Protection.
Independence.
Raffaele wanted Rose’s granddaughter to have money no husband could control.
Vincent read the document slowly.
“He did this.”
“Yes,” my mother said.
“Why?”
“Because he blamed himself for failing to save Rose.”
Vincent looked down.
His father had died believing everyone thought he was a murderer.
That grief settled over him quietly.
I touched his hand.
He looked at me.
No words.
Needed none.
The next six months were strange.
Beautiful.
Annoying.
Vincent moved into my apartment twice a week.
I stayed at the estate other nights.
We dated while married.
Ridiculous.
Necessary.
He learned I hated flowers that smelled too sweet.
I learned he watched terrible cooking shows when stressed.
He learned to text before sending security cars.
I learned to tolerate one bodyguard.
One.
We fought.
Once because he had my office checked for threats without telling me.
I threatened divorce.
He apologized before I finished the sentence.
Growth.
Another time, I redesigned his private office without asking.
He stared at the lighter walls.
“Where is my black furniture?”
“Gone.”
“Evelyn.”
“You looked like Dracula owned a hedge fund.”
He kept the redesign.
Our mothers became unbearable.
They started referring to our wedding as “phase one.”
We banned them from discussing phase two.
Daniel and Samuel both faced trial.
Patricia testified.
Marco became head of a new legitimate security company Vincent formed after dismantling part of the old organization.
Vincent cooperated with investigators.
It cost him.
Money.
Alliances.
Reputation.
He chose it anyway.
Then the six-month date approached.
My exit date.
I found the divorce papers in his desk.
Signed.
His signature already there.
My heart stopped.
I carried them into the kitchen.
He was making chicken sandwiches.
Of course.
“What is this?”
He looked.
Then looked away.
“The agreement.”
“You signed.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I promised.”
My chest tightened.
“You want out?”
His head snapped up.
“No.”
“Then why sign?”
“Because you should never have to wonder whether I’m trapping you.”
I stared.
This stupid man.
This terrifying, tattooed, emotionally inconvenient man.
“What if I don’t want the exit?”
He stopped breathing.
I stepped closer.
“Vincent.”
“Yes?”
“You said you wanted time to convince me.”
His eyes darkened.
“And?”
“You did.”
He looked almost afraid to understand.
I picked up the divorce papers.
Tore them in half.
Then again.
Then dropped them into the trash.
Vincent stared.
“Evelyn.”
“What?”
“I had copies.”
I glared.
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
I threw a napkin at him.
Then he pulled me into his arms.
“Say it.”
“No.”
“Sweetheart.”
“Don’t sweetheart me.”
“Say it.”
I smiled.
“I love you.”
His face changed.
The laughter disappeared.
Something deeper replaced it.
“I love you too.”
He kissed me.
No deadline.
No gun.
No trust.
Just us.
Then Marco entered.
We separated.
He looked deeply tired.
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” I said.
“Correct.”
Vincent sighed.
“What?”
Marco handed him a folder.
“We found something in Daniel’s files.”
My stomach dropped.
“Please be boring.”
“No.”
Vincent opened it.
Photographs.
Me.
For years.
College.
First apartment.
Work.
My stomach turned.
“Daniel watched me that long?”
Marco shook his head.
“Those weren’t Daniel’s surveillance photos.”
“Then whose?”
He looked at Vincent.
“Raffaele’s.”
My heart stopped.
Vincent frowned.
“My father?”
Marco nodded.
“He protected Evelyn for years.”
I stared.
“Why?”
Marco turned the final page.
One handwritten note.
Rose, I failed you once.
I will not fail her.
My eyes filled.
Then I noticed another line.
If Vincent ever meets Evelyn, I hope they choose each other.
I laughed through tears.
Vincent looked horrified.
“Our fathers were matchmaking too?”
“Apparently everyone except us.”
May you like
He rubbed his face.
“I need better ancestors.”
