Chapter 8 - The Woman Who Refused to Be Owned|
For most of his life, Lorenzo Bianchi had believed revenge was simple.
Someone hurt your family.
You hurt them back.
Someone betrayed you.
You made sure they regretted it.
His father had taught him that.
His uncles reinforced it.
The men around him treated mercy as weakness.
But now Lorenzo sat beside his sister's hospital bed listening to evidence that his father may have been murdered by the man he'd trusted most.
And for the first time, he understood that anger could be exactly what Victor wanted.
He could storm into Victor's office.
Threaten him.
Start a war.
And risk everything.
Isabella.
Amelia.
The people he loved.
Or he could do something harder.
Think.
He looked at Isabella.
"Do you have the records?"
She nodded.
"My attorney has copies."
"Good."
Amelia watched him carefully.
Then asked:
"What are you going to do?"
Lorenzo took a breath.
"Preserve the evidence. Cooperate with the proper investigation. And make sure Victor can't reach you or Isabella."
Amelia stared.
That wasn't the answer she'd expected.
She had spent two weeks imagining Lorenzo seeking violent revenge.
Now he was choosing patience.
Not because he was weak.
Because he had finally understood how dangerous his anger could become.
Isabella looked relieved.
"Thank you."
Lorenzo nodded.
Then turned toward Amelia.
"There's something else I want to discuss."
She hesitated.
"What?"
"Your scar."
Her shoulders tightened immediately.
Lorenzo noticed.
He lowered his voice.
"Only if you want to."
Amelia took a breath.
"Okay."
He looked at her gently.
"Victor wanted that mark to make you feel like you belonged to him."
Tears filled her eyes.
She nodded.
Lorenzo continued.
"But you don't."
Her throat tightened.
"You never did."
Amelia looked down.
For days, she'd struggled to look at herself in the mirror.
The mark reminded her of fear.
Of helplessness.
Of the night she lost control over what happened to her body.
Now Lorenzo was telling her something she'd desperately needed to hear.
She was still herself.
Still Amelia.
Still worthy of love.
The scar didn't belong to Victor.
It belonged to her body.
And she would decide what it meant.
She began crying.
Lorenzo remained still.
Then she reached for him.
He opened his arms.
She stepped into them.
For a moment, he held her gently.
Not tightly.
Not possessively.
Just enough to let her know he was there.
Amelia rested her forehead against his chest.
"I was so scared."
His voice broke.
"I know."
"I thought you'd hate me."
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
"Never."
She pulled back.
"You did hate me."
The truth struck him.
He swallowed.
"You're right."
For fourteen days, he'd let his wounded pride become anger.
He'd imagined punishing her for leaving.
He had cornered her in an alley.
He couldn't pretend those things hadn't happened.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Amelia studied him.
"Don't say it because you want me back."
He nodded.
"I'm saying it because I was wrong."
Silence.
Then she gave a small nod.
For the first time, something in her expression softened.
But before they could speak again, Isabella's attorney entered.
Her name was Rebecca Shaw.
She carried a folder.
"Mr. Bianchi."
Lorenzo stood.
"Yes?"
"We've authenticated several records."
His expression changed.
"About my father?"
"Yes."
Rebecca opened the folder.
"The medical findings support concerns about the reported cause of death."
Lorenzo nodded.
"And Victor?"
"There's evidence linking associates of his to the relevant events. But the investigation is ongoing."
Amelia folded her arms.
"Is there anything about Gabriel Moretti?"
Rebecca hesitated.
"Yes."
Amelia's heart raced.
"What?"
"We found an old transfer document connected to his disappearance."
She swallowed.
"And?"
Rebecca looked at her.
"Miss Hart, your father was listed as having received a payment after the date he supposedly died."
The room went still.
Amelia stared.
"How?"
Rebecca shook her head.
"We don't yet know."
Lorenzo looked toward her.
"Could the records be fraudulent?"
"Yes."
Amelia took a trembling breath.
For years, she'd believed her father died when she was six.
Now there was a possibility he had survived.
Hope frightened her almost as much as grief.
Then Rebecca added:
"There's another detail."
Amelia looked up.
"What?"
"The payment came from an account associated with Elena Bianchi."
Lorenzo froze.
His mother.
The woman who had disappeared decades earlier.
The woman who had apparently known Amelia's name long before their relationship began.
Amelia stared.
"Why would your mother pay my father?"
Lorenzo shook his head.
"I don't know."
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A woman's voice spoke.
"Lorenzo."
His face went white.
"Mom?"
The woman began crying.
"My son."
Lorenzo gripped the phone.
"Where are you?"
A long silence.
Then Elena whispered:
"Somewhere Victor can't reach me. But you need to stop looking for Gabriel Moretti."
Amelia froze.
Lorenzo stared.
"Why?"
May you like
His mother's voice broke.
"Because Gabriel isn't the man Amelia thinks he is."
