Chapter 14 - THE YEARS THEY DIDN’T STEAL
Gabriel was charged eight months later.
Financial conspiracy.
Illegal business conduct tied to older port operations.
Nothing connected to Vale’s theft.
His own choices.
Paige appreciated the distinction.
He did not call himself innocent.
He hired attorneys.
Cooperated where advised.
Eventually pleaded to several charges.
Sentence:
Twenty-two months.
Paige did not promise to wait.
Gabriel did not ask.
Before surrendering, he came to her studio.
Buster barked at him.
Gabriel looked offended.
“He liked me last week.”
“He has standards.”
Gabriel handed her no jewelry.
No money.
Just a small cardboard box.
Inside:
Her old brass Moretti Logistics nameplate.
PAIGE WINSLOW
ADMINISTRATIVE ASSISTANT.
She laughed.
“Why do you have this?”
“You left it.”
“I quit.”
“Yes.”
“It belongs to the company.”
“I bought the replacement for twelve dollars.”
She laughed harder.
Then:
“Why give it to me?”
“Because I thought you might want proof.”
“Of what?”
“That you escaped.”
Her eyes burned.
“I didn’t escape you.”
“No.”
He nodded.
“You escaped the version of yourself that thought survival required disappearing.”
That was annoyingly good.
“Therapy?”
“Natalia.”
“Same level of brutality.”
Then Gabriel became serious.
“I love you.”
Paige froze.
They had been dating seven months.
Slow.
Careful.
No cohabitation.
No financial entanglement.
She knew he felt it.
Still.
“Bad timing.”
“I know.”
“You’re going to prison.”
“I know.”
“You really choose moments.”
“I’ve been informed.”
She looked at him.
“I care about you.”
His expression softened.
“But I’m not making prison promises.”
“I don’t want one.”
Good.
“I’m going to work.”
“Yes.”
“Date nobody if I feel like dating nobody.”
“Yes.”
“Date someone if I want.”
His jaw tightened for half a second.
Then:
“Yes.”
Real answer.
“And when you come out?”
“We see who we are.”
Paige nodded.
“That I can promise.”
Gabriel served nineteen months with credit.
Paige lived.
That sounds simple.
It wasn’t.
Winslow Creative grew from four clients to eighteen.
She hired Sylvia.
Yes.
The office manager who once told her to pack her desk.
Sylvia left Moretti Logistics during restructuring and turned out to be excellent at project operations.
Her first day, she stared at Paige.
“You called Gabriel Moretti honey and somehow I ended up working for you.”
“Career development.”
Buster moved permanently to Manhattan.
Paige paid off Kevin’s remaining joint-account damage.
Then her student debt dropped from ninety thousand to forty-eight.
Then twenty-six.
No Gabriel check.
No miracle.
Work.
Time.
She visited Gabriel six times.
Not weekly.
Not tragically.
They wrote.
Gabriel learned to write letters without giving instructions.
Harder than prison, apparently.
One read:
I ate cafeteria lasagna today. If I survive, I am invincible.
Paige replied:
You already survived my college typography poster.
He wrote:
Buster looked distinguished.
Liar.
When Gabriel was released, Paige did not meet him at the gate.
Natalia did.
Leo did.
Paige had a client presentation.
Gabriel knew.
He sent:
Good luck.
She wrote:
Welcome back.
That evening, after her presentation, she returned to the studio.
Gabriel stood outside.
No convoy.
No suit.
Dark sweater.
Hands in pockets.
Buster saw him through the glass and started wagging.
Traitor.
Gabriel smiled.
“Dinner?”
Paige unlocked the door.
“You just got out.”
“Yes.”
“You should see your family.”
“I did.”
“Therapist?”
“Tomorrow.”
Good.
Then she asked:
“Are you asking because we promised?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I still want to know who you are now.”
Paige looked around her studio.
Her name on the glass.
Her employees’ desks.
Buster’s water bowl.
A life nobody gave her.
Then at Gabriel.
“Okay.”
One dinner.
Again.
They started over.
May you like
Not from zero.
From truth.
