Alessandro’s expression softens almost imperceptibly. “You think marriage is the answer? A legal contract, a symbolic gesture?”
“I think claiming what’s mine in every way is the answer,” I reply. “I think showing her—showing everyone—that she isn’t just another asset is the answer.”
“It’s too soon,” Alessandro says, but there’s less conviction in his voice. “Wait. Be certain. There’s no need to rush into a permanent decision.”
I laugh softly at that, the sound so unexpected in this room that Alessandro actually blinks in surprise.
“In my life, there’s no time for second-guessing,” I tell him. “I could be dead tomorrow. You taught me that. You taught me to seize opportunities when they present themselves, to move decisively when the moment is right.” I take a step closer until we’re only inches apart. “The moment is now. She is my future. I’ve never been more certain of anything.”
Alessandro searches my face, looking for any hint of doubt, any crack in my conviction. He finds none.
“You love her,” he says finally. A simple statement of fact.
“Yes.”
“And this love... it doesn’t feel like weakness to you?”
I consider the question seriously. “It feels like finally understanding what I’ve been fighting for all these years. Not just power. Not just control. But the right to build something that matters.”
Alessandro turns away, moving back to the window. For a long moment, he’s silent, looking out at the estate. “I have never married,” he says quietly. “Never allowed myself that... indulgence. I told myself it was because I couldn’t risk the vulnerability. Couldn’t risk giving anyone that much power over me.” He turns back to face me. “But the truth is simpler, and far more pathetic. I never found anyone worth the risk.”
The raw honesty surprises me.
“If you have,” he continues, “if you’ve found someone who makes you stronger rather than weaker, someone who sees our world clearly and stands with you anyway...” He straightens his shoulders. “Then you would be a fool to let her go.”
I feel something inside me settle. I didn’t need his permission, but his understanding matters more than I’d care to admit.
“She’s remarkable, Uncle. You’ll see.”
Alessandro nods once, decision made. “I already have. The way she handled herself at Eleanor’s gala. How she faced down Isabel. The way she looks at you—not with fear or blind adoration, but with clear-eyed acceptance.” He moves to his desk, opening a drawer. “She sees you, Nicolás. All of you. And she’s still here.”
He removes a small velvet box from the drawer, holding it in his palm for a moment before extending it to me. “This belonged to your grandmother,” he says. “My mother. She was the strongest woman I’ve ever known. Until perhaps now.”
I take the box, opening it to reveal a platinum ring set with a large center diamond flanked by smaller black diamonds. It’s elegant, distinctive, and unmistakably valuable—exactly what I would have chosen myself.
“She would approve,” Alessandro says softly, “of both the ring and the woman who will wear it.”
I close the box, slipping it into my jacket pocket. “Thank you.”
Alessandro nods, then moves to refill his glass. Our intimate conversation is over. He is once again the mastermind. “Now,” he says briskly, “we need to discuss consolidating our gains. Moretti’s territory must be secured.”
I listen as he outlines his thoughts, offering my insights. But part of my mind is on the box in my pocket, on the woman waiting for me at the lake house, on the future I never expected to have.
An hour later, Alessandro walks me to the door. He places a hand on my shoulder—a rare gesture. “Your parents would be proud,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Not of what we’ve built. But of the man you’ve become despite it all.”
The words land with unexpected force. That he invokes my parents now tells me exactly how significant he considers this moment.
“Go,” he says, releasing my shoulder. “Don’t keep your queen waiting.”
The driveto the lake house is a test of my patience. I check the time repeatedly, an unfamiliar restlessness thrumming beneath my skin. I, who have built an empire on calculated patience, am now anxious simply to arrive.
The gates of the property appear at last, opening smoothly. I instruct the driver to stop at the main entrance and dismiss himfor the night. The brief walk to the door gives me a moment to compose myself, to settle into the certainty of what I’m about to do.
I find Lea where Blake said she would be—in the living room, curled on the sofa before the fireplace. She’s wearing one of my sweaters, which is far too large for her, and her hair is damp. She looks up as I enter.
“Hi,” she says simply.
“Hi,” I reply, the greeting almost comical given everything that has happened. I remove my jacket, draping it over a chair, careful of the box in its pocket.
