Seven Years as His Hidden Wife

By the time I returned to the Romano house, champagne had dried stiff against my skirt and dawn was already breaking.

Niccolò came in not long after, still in the tuxedo from the Bellini Foundation gala, his bow tie loosened and the scent of smoke and expensive perfume on his coat. He stopped when he saw me sitting in the front room.

“You’re still awake?”

I looked at him and said nothing.

One of his men placed a small velvet case on the side table before leaving. Niccolò pushed it toward me.

“For your birthday,” he said. “Old-cut sapphires. You used to like them.”

I opened the case. Inside was a pair of sapphire earrings, beautiful and cold, with the Bellini Foundation auction tag still tucked beside them.

I closed it again.

“You bought them at the same gala where you announced Lia as your fiancée.”

His face hardened. “They’re for you. Don’t make it uglier than it is.”

“I saw the statement.”

That finally made him pause.

I placed my phone on the table. The Romano family’s words were still on the screen, clean and final: Lia Bellini had never touched the harbor ledger. The person who altered the records and misled the council was Elena Voss.

Niccolò glanced at it once, then looked away.

“You were not supposed to find out like this.”

“There was a better way to tell me you made me a thief?”

“Do not use that word.”

“What should I call it? Strategy?”

“The Vitales were at the gala,” he said, already losing patience. “If Lia stayed exposed, they would use her to take the Bellini Foundation apart. I shut that door before they could walk through it.”

“With my name.”

“With a name I can protect.”

I looked at him for a long moment.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Your reputation will take a hit. I can contain that. Lia’s situation is different.”

“There it is,” I said. “The calculation.”

“This family survives because I calculate.”

“And I survive because you assume I’ll pay the cost.”

“The council is holding a briefing this morning,” he said. “Donors, banks, the Bellini board. You will say the ledger revisions were yours. Poor judgment, not malice. I will make sure no charges follow.”

I almost laughed. “You want me to ruin my name politely enough that Lia’s stays clean.”

“I want you to help me stop a war.”

“You want obedience.”

His eyes sharpened. “I want you to remember Palermo.”

The word landed between us like a blade.

Palermo had once been the reason I forgave him. Now he had placed it on the table like another debt marker.

I stood.

“Fine.”

Relief crossed his face before he could hide it.

“But after today,” I said, “you never use Palermo against me again.”

His expression changed. “Elena—”

“No. This is the last thing I give you.”

The briefing was held at ten in the Bellini Foundation hall. Everything looked civilized: marble floors, white flowers, bank representatives, council members, and lawyers lined against the walls. Lia stood beside Niccolò in a pale dress, the Romano black-gold brooch fastened over her heart.

Niccolò spoke first.

“The Romano family regrets the confusion surrounding the old harbor ledger. Ms. Bellini has been placed under unfair suspicion, and today we intend to close the matter.”

Then he looked at me.

“Elena.”

I walked to the front. Cameras flashed despite the request for discretion. Niccolò leaned close as I took the microphone.

“Keep it simple,” he murmured. “I’ll handle the rest.”

Once, I might have believed him.

“The harbor ledger was prepared under my supervision,” I said. “Unauthorized changes were made before it reached the council. Responsibility for that rests with me.”

A low murmur moved through the hall. Lia lowered her eyes. Niccolò’s shoulders eased.

I gave him the sentence he wanted.

“Ms. Bellini should not have been accused for work she did not submit.”

Then I turned to him.

“Niccolò Romano saved my life in Palermo. For seven years, I mistook gratitude for a reason to stay.”

His face froze.

“Elena.”

I set the microphone down.

“That debt is paid.”

He reached for my wrist, but I stepped past him.

“Elena, not here.”

I looked at him once.

“There is no private place left for us.”

Adrian was waiting by the doors with my travel documents. I walked toward him without looking back.

Behind me, Lia began to cry softly, and Niccolò said my name like an order.

For the first time in seven years, I did not obey.