Chapter 13 - ELENA'S CHOICE
Dante disappeared for three days.
Not literally.
Elena knew where he was.
He simply stopped contacting her.
No flowers.
No messages.
No security men outside her apartment.
Nothing.
At first, she was relieved.
Then annoyed.
Then unexpectedly angry.
On the fourth evening, she went to the Meridian Grand.
The same hotel where everything started.
Dante was in a private dining room with attorneys.
He looked surprised when Elena walked in.
“You should have called.”
“You should have.”
He dismissed everyone.
Elena remained standing.
“Why did you disappear?”
“Your father wanted me away from you.”
“My father also wrote Elena chooses.”
Dante’s expression tightened.
“I am not a safe choice.”
“That is the first intelligent thing you’ve said.”
He almost smiled.
Elena continued.
“I don’t know what this is.”
“Neither do I.”
“Good.”
That answer helped.
She stepped closer.
“But I know what it is not.”
He waited.
“I am not marrying you because Marcus cheated.”
“No.”
“I am not becoming some mafia ornament.”
“No.”
“I am not trading one controlling man for another.”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“Never.”
“And if you have me followed again without telling me, I will personally throw that emerald ring into Lake Michigan.”
He actually laughed.
“I believe you.”
Elena removed the ring from her finger.
Dante’s laughter faded.
She placed it on the table.
“That belonged to your mother.”
“Yes.”
“So keep it.”
“Elena—”
“If you ever give me a ring, give me one that has nothing to do with dead fathers, stolen ledgers, or revenge.”
Dante stared at her.
Then slowly picked up the emerald.
“All right.”
Something changed between them.
The performance ended.
Whatever came next would be real or nothing.
Meanwhile, Marcus made a choice of his own.
He resigned from his family investment firm.
Not because Elena asked.
She did not.
He turned over records to investigators and accepted that his career might collapse with the company.
Vivien filed for annulment less than a week after the wedding.
Marcus did not contest it.
When he came to Elena’s apartment to apologize, she let him speak.
“I loved you,” he said.
“I know.”
“I was weak.”
“I know.”
“I thought Vivien made me feel important.”
Elena looked at him.
“That was never my job.”
He nodded.
Then he asked:
“Is there any chance?”
“No.”
It hurt him.
But he accepted it.
At the door, Marcus turned back.
“Dante loves you.”
Elena frowned.
“He barely knows me.”
Marcus smiled sadly.
“So did I.”
Then he said something she remembered for years.
“The difference is he seems interested in learning.”
That night, Elena received an email from the trust attorney.
The first restitution claim had been approved.
An eighty-two-year-old woman whose family lost a building in 2003 would receive title compensation.
Elena cried reading it.
Then another email arrived.
From investigators.
Victor Laurent had agreed to cooperate.
And his first statement named the person responsible for Miguel Reyes’s death.
May you like
It was not Victor.
It was Patricia’s father.
