A reporter raised his hand immediately.
“Mr. Ferrara, what actions do you intend to take against your grandmother and the architect Marcos Albuquerque?”
“We have already initiated legal proceedings against Marcos Albuquerque for defamation, slander, and moral damages,” I answered firmly. “As for my grandmother, Eloá Ferrara, I prefer not to discuss deeply personal matters publicly, but appropriate legal measures are being evaluated by our legal team.”
Another journalist pressed.
“How is Valentina handling all of this? Will she make a statement?”
I took a slow breath, my chest tightening at the memory of her pain.
“Valentina has suffered enough from these lies. All she wants now is to continue, in peace, the extraordinary work she’s been doing with the Institute. I am here to protect her, defend her honor, and ensure she is never again exposed to this kind of unjust and defamatory situation.”
A third reporter spoke up.
“And what about the future of the Clara Ferrara Institute after all this negative exposure?”
I smiled confidently.
“The Clara Ferrara Institute is stronger than ever. Valentina is an honest, capable woman who has dedicated all her energy to this project. I am absolutely certain that the truth revealed today will only strengthen the Institute and its future endeavors.”
I looked directly into the cameras, wanting my message to reach beyond the press—to society as a whole.
“I want to conclude by reaffirming, once again, the absolute innocence of my wife, Valentina Ferrara. Any further questions may be directed to my press office, which will provide all necessary evidence and information. I sincerely hope that from this point on, my family will be allowed to live the peaceful, happy life we have always deserved.”
I thanked everyone and ended the conference. Flashes exploded around me as I stepped away, finally feeling a deep sense of relief.
As I left the room, I pulled my phone from my pocket and called home immediately. When Valentina answered, her voice tight with anxiety, I finally allowed myself to smile.
“It’s over, my love. Everyone knows the truth now. No one can hurt you anymore.”
On the other end, I heard a relieved breath followed by a small, emotional sob.
“Thank you, Enrico. Thank you for believing in me.”
“I will always believe in you,” I said softly, emotion filling my voice. “Now we’re going to live our lives, Valentina. Nothing else matters. We have a wedding to plan.”
She laughed.
“I love you, Enrico Ferrara.”
“And I love you, Valentina Ferrara. Forever.”
SIXTY-NINE
VALENTINA FERRARA
A woman never forgets her wedding day. And even though this wasn’t my first wedding to Enrico, it was the only one I wanted to remember for the rest of my life.
The white dress hugged my body softly, made especially for that moment, every detail carefully chosen to represent exactly who I was now.
It wasn’t just a beautiful dress—it was a symbol of the journey I had taken to get there, to finally reach the happiness that had once been stolen from me.
The veil, light as a breeze, draped gently over my shoulders, giving me the sensation of being wrapped in a waking dream.
I took a deep breath, my heart racing as I took my first steps down the aisle of the small historic church we had chosen together—a warm, meaningful place for both of us.
My fingers held the wildflower bouquet delicately as I walked forward. Each step brought me closer to him, and now I was absolutely certain that nothing would ever come between us again.
