Chapter 13 - WE STOPPED PRETENDING THE MARRIAGE WAS ONLY A CONTRACT
Three months changed everything.
Peter pleaded not guilty.
Then guilty after Andrew testified.
Margaret entered witness protection temporarily and later accepted charges for unauthorized system access.
I visited her once.
No dramatic forgiveness.
She had loved me.
She had also betrayed my mother’s trust.
Both could exist.
My father resigned as Hart Meridian CEO.
That shocked Manhattan more than the arrests.
He stayed chairman only long enough to install an independent board, then left.
“I should have listened to your mother.”
“Yes.”
“I thought protecting you meant deciding what you didn’t need to know.”
“Yes.”
He smiled painfully.
“You enjoy being right.”
“Genetic.”
He laughed.
Healing started there.
Michael Vance remained in New York.
We had coffee once.
Then again.
He did not ask to be Dad.
Good.
James was my father.
Michael was a man who contributed blood and eventually truth.
Maybe one day there would be more.
No rush.
Nico’s world changed too.
He released the adoption papers voluntarily.
Then did something nobody expected.
He separated Caruso Holdings’ legitimate businesses from the criminal organization.
Publicly.
Dangerously.
Older captains called it betrayal.
Nico called it sanitation.
He turned over evidence against operations he refused to continue.
Not everything at once.
Real life is rarely clean enough for one dramatic speech.
But enough to start.
One night, I found him in the library.
No suit.
White shirt rolled at the sleeves.
He looked tired.
“You should sleep.”
“So should you.”
“I’m studying.”
“You’ve been staring at the same page for twenty minutes.”
Annoying man.
I closed the book.
Then noticed the connecting-door key on the table.
The door between our bedrooms had remained locked from his side for three months.
“Why is that here?”
He looked at it.
“I thought you should have it.”
“For what?”
“So the lock becomes your choice too.”
My chest tightened.
“Nico.”
“You never asked me to unlock it.”
“You never asked to come in.”
“No.”
“Why?”
His expression softened.
“Because you were forced into the marriage.”
I stared.
“You thought I slept with half of Manhattan.”
“Initially.”
“Idiot.”
“Yes.”
“And still gave me privacy.”
“Yes.”
That mattered more than I wanted.
I picked up the key.
“Do you still think I’m spoiled?”
“Yes.”
I glared.
He smiled.
“You believe coffee should cost seven dollars.”
“That is not character evidence.”
“You also have forty-three pairs of shoes.”
“Objection. Relevance.”
“Overruled.”
I laughed.
Then he became serious.
“What do you think of me?”
Dangerous question.
“Initially?”
“Yes.”
“Cold. Arrogant. Probably violent.”
“Probably?”
“I had no evidence.”
“Law student.”
“Exactly.”
“And now?”
I looked at him.
“Still cold sometimes.”
He waited.
“Still arrogant.”
“Excellent.”
“But not careless with people.”
His expression changed.
That was the compliment he understood.
Then I asked:
“Why did you agree to marry me?”
He had never fully answered.
“My father’s letter.”
“What did it say?”
He reached behind a book.
Handed me one page.
Vincent Caruso’s handwriting.
If James Hart ever asks you to marry Eleanor’s daughter, say yes before you ask why.
I stared.
Nico continued.
“My father trusted your mother more than almost anyone.”
“So you obeyed a dead man.”
“At first.”
“And now?”
He stepped closer.
Not touching.
“Now I’m trying to decide whether asking my wife on an actual date violates the contract.”
My pulse jumped.
“What kind of date?”
“Dinner.”
“Public?”
“If you can survive the scandal.”
I smiled.
“Pick me up at seven.”
He did.
May you like
At seven exactly.
From the bedroom across the hall.
