Chapter 10 - The Fiancée Who Had Never Loved Him|
Alessandro read the letter three times.
Each time, his expression grew colder.
I stood beside him in the conservation studio, watching the man I'd known as Chicago's most feared businessman discover that the woman he planned to marry had been using him from the beginning.
Richard Hart's instructions were clear.
Camille was supposed to gain Alessandro's trust.
Encourage him to marry quickly.
Obtain access to Sofia Romano's private collection.
And remove the painting before anyone examined its backing.
The planned auction had provided the perfect opportunity.
A missing painting could be blamed on an aging caretaker.
A reproduction could be sold to an unsuspecting collector.
And eleven additional artworks could be moved through Adrian Hart's gallery under forged authorization.
By the time anyone discovered the fraud, the evidence inside the original frame would be gone.
Alessandro placed the letter on the table.
"She knew everything."
His voice was quiet.
I looked at him.
"She may have been following her father's orders."
He shook his head.
"That doesn't excuse what she did."
"No."
He turned toward the window.
For several seconds, he didn't speak.
Then he laughed once.
It wasn't a happy sound.
"I thought she loved me."
My chest tightened.
I had never seen Alessandro vulnerable.
At the mansion, he was always controlled.
Always certain.
He entered rooms and people immediately stood straighter.
But now he looked like an ordinary man whose heart had been broken.
"Mr. Romano—"
"Alessandro."
I hesitated.
He looked toward me.
"Please."
I nodded.
"Alessandro."
His expression softened slightly.
I continued.
"Being deceived doesn't make you foolish."
He looked away.
"I should have noticed."
"Maybe."
He turned.
I swallowed.
"But people who lie professionally learn how to make their lies look like love."
He studied me for a long moment.
Then nodded.
"You're right."
Daniel entered the studio.
"Boss."
Alessandro turned.
"What?"
"Investigators have located Richard Hart."
My heart hammered.
"Where?"
"At a private airport outside Chicago."
Alessandro's expression hardened.
"Trying to leave?"
"Yes."
Daniel continued.
"He's being questioned. Adrian Hart has also been detained for questioning about the artwork transfers."
I felt a rush of relief.
"And Camille?"
Daniel hesitated.
"She's at your mansion."
Alessandro frowned.
"What?"
"She arrived twenty minutes ago. She says she needs to speak with you."
He stared at Daniel.
"Does she know about the documents?"
"Not yet."
Alessandro looked toward the recovered painting.
Then toward me.
"Claire, I need you to stay somewhere safe tonight."
I frowned.
"Why?"
"Because the Hart family has already used your parents' identities and threatened them. I don't know what else they may try."
I nodded slowly.
"All right."
Then I looked at him.
"What are you going to do?"
He took a breath.
"Tell Camille the engagement is over."
I hesitated.
"Are you sure?"
He almost smiled.
"She tried to steal from a charity founded by my grandmother, frame an innocent man, and destroy evidence of a decades-old crime."
I nodded.
"Fair point."
He looked at me.
Then something unexpected happened.
He laughed.
A real laugh.
Brief.
Tired.
But real.
For a moment, the tension in the room lifted.
Then he became serious again.
"Claire, there's something else."
I waited.
He looked uncomfortable.
"I owe you an apology."
I blinked.
"For what?"
"For allowing Camille to treat you as though your work made you less important."
My eyes filled.
"Alessandro—"
"I heard the way she spoke to employees. I told myself she was merely demanding."
He shook his head.
"I should have recognized cruelty."
I looked down.
For eight months, I'd endured Camille's remarks.
The little maid.
The cleaning girl.
The girl who didn't belong in wealthy company.
I'd never expected Alessandro to notice.
And I certainly hadn't expected him to apologize.
"Thank you," I whispered.
He nodded.
Then asked quietly, "Would you consider helping with the collection after this is over?"
I looked up.
"What?"
"Not as a housemaid."
My heart began pounding.
He continued.
"We need someone who understands the artwork, the maintenance records, and my grandmother's history. Someone I can trust."
I stared at him.
"I don't have a degree."
He looked almost offended.
"Claire, you identified a forged painting in front of eighty-four people while holding a champagne tray."
I swallowed.
He smiled faintly.
"I think we can discuss your qualifications without letting one missing diploma decide everything."
Tears filled my eyes.
For years, I'd believed the education I'd been unable to finish would keep every better opportunity beyond my reach.
Now a door was opening.
Not because I was secretly related to a wealthy family.
Not because someone pitied me.
Because I'd done the work.
Because I'd noticed something others ignored.
Because I'd told the truth.
"I'd like that," I whispered.
Alessandro smiled.
"Good."
Then his phone rang.
Camille.
He looked at the screen.
For several seconds, he didn't answer.
Finally, he pressed the button.
"Camille."
Her voice was sweet.
"Darling, where are you?"
Alessandro's expression became unreadable.
"Why?"
"I've been worried. You left the auction so abruptly."
He closed his eyes.
"Camille, the engagement is over."
Silence.
Then she laughed.
"Don't be ridiculous."
"I'm not."
Her voice sharpened.
"Is this because of that maid?"
I felt my face burn.
Alessandro looked directly at me.
"No."
He paused.
"This is because of what you did."
Camille stopped laughing.
"What are you talking about?"
He looked toward Richard Hart's letter.
"Your father."
Silence.
Then her voice changed.
"Alessandro, listen carefully."
He said nothing.
"If you've found the documents, you need to destroy them."
My heart stopped.
Camille continued.
"Because if those papers become public, your grandmother's name will be dragged through every newspaper in America."
Alessandro's expression hardened.
Then he answered quietly.
"My grandmother spent her life helping children who had nothing."
He looked toward Sofia's photograph.
"She would rather have the truth exposed than let another child suffer because powerful people wanted a clean reputation."
Camille began shouting.
May you like
But Alessandro had already ended the call.
And for the first time that evening, I knew the Harts had lost control.
