Chapter 10 - ALINA’S DECISION
The board expected Alina to choose Vincent.
That annoyed her immediately.
Lawyers explained options.
Accept shares.
Reject shares.
Place them in trust.
Sell.
Vote.
Abstain.
Everyone spoke carefully because eleven percent of a multibillion-dollar company had suddenly landed in the hands of a thirty-one-year-old housekeeper.
Vincent said nothing.
Finally Alina looked at him.
“You don’t have an opinion?”
“I do.”
“And?”
“It’s your decision.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Are you manipulating me by being reasonable?”
His mouth twitched.
“No.”
“Suspicious.”
Dominic laughed.
Alina chose a voting trust.
Independent fiduciary.
No automatic vote for Vincent.
No control for Eddie.
No Thomas.
The shares would eventually fund Mia’s education, Alina’s security, and several worker-focused programs.
Vincent supported it.
Even though it meant he could lose board votes.
That mattered.
Gabriel did not understand.
“You could keep the shares.”
“I am.”
“I mean control them personally.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I have spent one week watching money turn people into lunatics.”
Fair.
Then came Gabriel.
He wanted to meet Mia properly.
Alina said no.
Not yet.
“You let Vincent near her.”
“Vincent didn’t fake his death.”
Gabriel flinched.
“You let Dominic.”
“Dominic didn’t watch us struggle for four years from across the street.”
“I sent money through Teresa.”
“You sent groceries twice.”
“I couldn’t risk more.”
“You keep explaining why your choices made sense to you.”
He went silent.
Alina softened slightly.
“You can earn a relationship with her.”
His eyes filled.
“How?”
“Start with telling the truth.”
He nodded.
“And therapy.”
He frowned.
“Alina.”
“Therapy.”
“Fine.”
Good.
Eddie turned himself in fully.
He cooperated regarding sabotage, financial crimes, and Thomas.
Dominic visited him.
Not often.
Enough.
Frank was cleared of Sofia’s death and returned to work only after an independent investigation.
Vincent apologized to him.
Apparently mafia bosses hated apologies too.
Alina enjoyed that.
Then Vincent offered her a new job.
“No.”
He blinked.
“You haven’t heard it.”
“No.”
“Mia’s foundation administrator.”
“No.”
“Community trust liaison.”
“No.”
“Operations—”
“Vincent.”
He stopped.
“I don’t want a job because my daughter saved you.”
“Then apply.”
That surprised her.
“What?”
“Apply for the estate operations role when Mrs. Alvarez returns.”
“Teresa?”
“She doesn’t want housekeeping management anymore.”
“Why?”
“She says all of you are exhausting.”
Reasonable.
Alina applied.
Interviewed with three people not named Marchetti.
Got the job.
Higher salary.
Benefits.
Childcare.
Earned.
Not gifted.
That mattered too.
Months passed.
Thomas Bellini was indicted.
Old investigations reopened.
Vittorio’s financial history looked uglier under daylight.
Vincent began restructuring legitimate businesses away from legacy operations that depended on intimidation.
Some people left.
Some threatened him.
He kept going.
Then Sofia’s full archive produced one final recording.
Vincent and Alina listened together.
Sofia’s voice:
Vincent, if you ever hear this, stop believing the family survives because everyone fears us.
A pause.
It survives if someone eventually becomes brave enough to be less like Dad.
Vincent closed his eyes.
Alina touched his hand.
Then stopped.
“Can I?”
He looked at her.
“Yes.”
She held it.
For the first time, neither pretended the feeling between them did not exist.
Then Mia appeared in the doorway wearing pajamas.
“Mommy.”
“Yes?”
“Mr. Vincent has my truck.”
Vincent looked toward the shelf.
He still had it.
Exactly where he promised.
Mia smiled.
“You didn’t break it.”
“No.”
She climbed onto the sofa beside him.
Then asked:
“Are you Mommy’s boyfriend?”
Alina nearly died.
Vincent, feared across Chicago, looked genuinely terrified.
“That seems premature.”
Mia frowned.
“What’s premature?”
May you like
Alina started laughing.
And somehow the first person brave enough to ask what everyone else had been avoiding was three years old.
