Chapter 6 - Five Million Dollars
Adrian survived.
The bullet passed through his shoulder without hitting anything vital.
He complained about the hospital food before the anesthesia fully wore off.
That was how I knew he would be fine.
Carlo survived too.
He was arrested on charges that had nothing to do with the criminal world and everything to do with evidence the authorities could actually use.
Kidnapping.
Attempted murder.
Conspiracy.
Financial crimes.
The recording destroyed whatever influence he had left.
Victor was dead.
His organization fractured within days.
Men who had served him for years discovered they had always preferred staying alive to remaining loyal.
The Romano name resurfaced.
I hated that part.
Reporters appeared.
Old associates called.
Strangers suddenly remembered my father with suspicious affection.
I refused them all.
I didn't want an empire.
I wanted my mother alive.
I wanted Matteo safe.
And, though I was still learning how to admit it, I wanted Adrian.
Mom's treatment continued.
Her doctors were cautiously optimistic.
The phrase “cautiously optimistic” became my favorite phrase in the English language.
Three weeks after the attack, I returned to the mansion.
The broken windows had been replaced.
The blood was gone.
The library shelves had been repaired.
Yet everything felt different.
I entered Adrian's study.
He was behind his desk.
A folder waited in front of him.
My heart sank.
“The contract.”
“Yes.”
I sat.
My confinement had ended weeks ago.
Technically, our agreement was complete.
Adrian pushed the folder toward me.
“Five million dollars.”
I didn't touch it.
“I don't want it.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“You earned it.”
“That's a strange word.”
“You fulfilled the contract.”
I looked at him.
“Is that what we are?”
“No.”
“Then why are we doing this?”
“Because I made you a promise before either of us knew what this would become.”
I opened the folder.
The money had been transferred.
Five million dollars.
Mine.
No deductions.
Not even for Mom's treatment.
“Adrian.”
“It's yours.”
“I don't need—”
“Yes, you do.”
His voice softened.
“You need something that belongs only to you. Not Romano money. Not Moretti money. Not money I can control. Yours.”
I understood.
He wasn't paying me to leave.
He was making sure I could.
That mattered more than I could explain.
I closed the folder.
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
“There's something else.”
I groaned.
“Another secret?”
“Not exactly.”
He rolled around the desk.
“Come with me.”
We went to the nursery.
Matteo was awake.
He was bigger now.
Still tiny.
Still capable of controlling an entire household by making one noise.
Adrian lifted him carefully.
He had become remarkably good at it.
“Your son spit up on my favorite shirt.”
“Our son.”
Adrian smiled.
“Our son.”
I took Matteo.
“What's the something else?”
Adrian reached into his pocket.
My heart stopped.
“Don't.”
He froze.
“What?”
“If that's what I think it is, don't do it because we almost died.”
His expression became offended.
“You think I make major decisions because someone shoots at me?”
“You make several decisions while people shoot at you.”
“Fair.”
He opened his hand.
A ring.
Not my father's ring.
A simple diamond.
Elegant.
Understated.
Perfect.
“I bought this before the attack.”
I stared.
“When?”
“Two days before your confinement ended.”
“You were going to propose?”
“I was considering it.”
“That's not romantic.”
“I was terrified.”
That silenced me.
Adrian Moretti.
Terrified.
“Of what?”
“You saying no.”
I laughed.
“You face armed men without blinking.”
“Armed men are predictable.”
“And I'm not?”
“Not remotely.”
I sat beside him.
He looked at Matteo.
“I don't want to own you, Melissa.”
The words mattered.
“I don't want you staying because of the contract or because I'm Matteo's father or because I paid for your mother's treatment.”
He looked at me.
“I want you to stay because you choose me.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“And if I don't?”
“I'll still protect Matteo. Your mother will still receive treatment. The money remains yours.”
“You'd let me leave?”
His face tightened.
“Yes.”
That was when I knew.
Not when he saved my mother.
Not when he held our son.
Not even when he told me he loved me.
I knew because Adrian was willing to lose me rather than trap me.
I leaned forward.
“You're an idiot.”
His eyebrows rose.
“I'm proposing to you.”
“Badly.”
“Melissa.”
“Yes.”
He stared.
“What?”
“Yes.”
“You're supposed to let me finish.”
“You've had twenty minutes.”
“It's been ninety seconds.”
“Felt longer.”
He laughed.
I hadn't heard Adrian laugh like that before.
Then he kissed me.
Matteo began crying between us.
We separated.
Adrian looked at him.
“Your timing is terrible.”
I smiled.
“He gets that from you.”
Mom cried when I told her.
Then she threatened Adrian.
“If you hurt my daughter—”
“Mom.”
Adrian raised a hand.
“She should finish.”
Mom pointed at him.
“I know where the old tunnels are.”
Adrian looked at me.
“Your entire family is obsessed with tunnels.”
I laughed until my stomach hurt.
For the first time, talking about my family didn't hurt.
My father was still gone.
Nothing could change that.
But his death no longer felt like the final chapter of the Romano story.
He had saved a boy.
That boy had grown into a man.
That man had saved my mother.
And together, we had created Matteo.
May you like
Perhaps families were not defined by the tragedies that destroyed them.
Perhaps they were defined by what survived.
