This is real.
And maybe that's enough.
Maybe we can build something good from the wreckage of how we started.
Maybe love doesn't have to be simple or easy or make sense to anyone else.
Maybe it just has to be true.
Chapter 47: Camilla
One month after I stayed past dawn, Renato tells me it's done.
We're having breakfast on the terrace. Our new routine, mornings spent together with coffee and pastries and comfortable silence. No more pretending the nights don't exist. No more careful distance during daylight hours.
Just us. Together. Figuring out what that means one day at a time.
"The Rossi family is finished," he says, setting down his espresso. "Lorenzo has nothing left."
I look up from my cornetto. "How did you make that happen?"
"Called in every debt they owed. Bought out their legitimate businesses for pennies on the dollar. Turned their allies against them." He shrugs, but there's satisfaction in his eyes. "Exposed some of Lorenzo's more creative accounting to the authorities. The family assets are frozen, their accounts are empty, and their reputation is destroyed."
"You didn't kill him?”
"You asked me not to." He reaches across the table to take my hand. "Death would have been kinder. This way, he gets to live with the knowledge that he lost everything. That the woman he tried to use as a business transaction destroyed his entire empire."
I should probably feel guilty.
But I don't. In fact, it makes me happy.
"Thank you," I say simply.
Lorenzo tried to use me as a pawn. Now he has nothing. And I have everything.
I have choice. Freedom. A man who loves me and asks for nothing in return except the chance to prove himself every day.
"I called my father yesterday," I mention casually, taking another bite of pastry.
Renato's hand tightens slightly on mine. "How did that go?"
"I told him I'm not coming back. That if he wanted a daughter instead of a business asset, he should have treated me like one." I meet his eyes. "He didn't argue. Just asked if I was safe. Then asked if I had any money."
"What did you tell him?"
"That I'm safer than I've ever been. And that if he loses all his money because of his bad decisions, that's his problem, not mine." I squeeze his hand. "He said he understood. That he hopes I'm happy."
"Are you?" The question is soft, vulnerable. "Happy?"
I think about the past weeks. Waking up in his arms every morning. Learning to exist together in daylight without the careful boundaries we built. The easy affection that's developed between us. His hand on my lower back as we walk, my fingers in his hair as we sit together, stolen kisses in hallways and lingering touches over breakfast.
The way he looks at me like I'm the best thing that ever happened to him.
The way I'm starting to believe he might be the best thing that ever happened to me.
"Yes," I say honestly. "I am."
He lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. "I hope so."
