Chiara is brilliance on the surface. Alessia is depth that doesn’t announce itself. I tell myself that’s not fair. That they’re different women with different roles. But the thought won’t let go.
Chiara is everything a CEO is supposed to want at his side.
And yet….
“Oh…we have to meet—” Chiara takes me away to talk to someone else who is important. I can’t focus on that conversation because I’m listening to the one taking place next to us.
“We adjusted extraction early—less pump-over, more patience,” Alessia says to another vintner, whom I recognize as someone from the Frescobaldi family.
The man hums thoughtfully. “And the oak?”
“Neutral for now. Let the fruit speak first.”
There’s no performance in her voice. No awareness of being overheard. She isn’t selling anything.
“See…that’s what I like about you, Alessia, you’re not excessive with thebarriquelike some others we know,” the Frescobaldi man jokes.
I’ve sat in boardrooms across three continents listening to people talk confidently about things they barely understand. I know the sound of competence when I hear it.
Chiara glances my way and catches my eye. “Nico, tell Mr. Bana about the strategic realignment we’re doing to appeal to the next generation of luxury consumers.”
Before I can speak, Matteo leads Alessia away, further from me.
“Ah.” I talk about the strategic realignment bullshit that’s Chiara’s pet project, one that right now feels vapid compared to how my wife talks about wine. She’s creating the product we sell, the product that people want. The rest is just…cosmetic.
I hear her from a distance as she laughs softly at something Matteo says, the sound unguarded.
I have been looking at my wife as a farmer—someone who doesn’t fit my circles, and yet, it occurs to me that she belongs here more than I do.
I don’t quite know what to do with that realization.
5
ALESSIA
In winemaking, you don't negotiate with what threatens the vineyard. You prune it and move on.
But when it comes to my marriage, Chiara isn't the threat she thinks she is. Another woman can only affect a relationship if she's allowed. However, when she confronts me, probably driven by her own insecurities about Nico, I stand tall. I may be the plain sister, but I am an Alighieri, and we don't allow outsiders to trample us.
So only family can walk all over you, Alessia?
Chiara waits to approach me until Matteo is pulled away by someone who needs him more than I do.
That is her first mistake—assuming I need rescuing.
"Alessia," she says warmly. "How lovely to finally have a moment."
We've spent some time together as she worked on the PR and communication regarding my wedding. Throughout our interactions, she made it clear that I was merely the wife; she was Nico's person.
Then it bothered me.
Now, I see it for what it is—and a part of me feels sorryfor her. It must be hell to love a man who chose his career over her. I understand because it's hell to love a man who has chosen Chiara over me. In some ways, I think she's better off than me. She is at least with him, while I’m alone.
I offer her the same polite smile I give distant relatives and irrelevant wine aficionados. "Chiara."
She is a beautiful woman. So elegant. I can see why everyone thinks she's better suited for Nico. But he made his bed—even if I'm not sleeping in it and she is—and marriage is legally binding.
Anything else, like Chiara, is ephemeral.
