Chapter 9 - The Last Secret
The woman’s name was Evelyn Dane.
Victor’s older sister.
Roman immediately became suspicious.
Nora invited her inside.
Roman whispered, “Your survival instincts continue to disappoint me.”
“She’s sixty.”
“So?”
“She brought cookies.”
“Poison can be baked.”
Evelyn heard him.
“They’re oatmeal.”
Roman looked horrified.
“That may be worse.”
Nora nearly laughed.
Evelyn placed the envelope on the table.
“I found this after Victor was convicted.”
Roman did not touch it.
“What is it?”
“Proof.”
“Of what?”
“That your father ordered the first hit.”
Roman went still.
His father, Salvatore Bellini, had died ten years earlier.
To Roman, he had been both teacher and tyrant.
Evelyn explained.
Victor had not created the criminal war.
He had inherited it.
Salvatore had ordered the murder of Victor’s father over a territorial dispute.
Victor spent decades planning revenge.
Luca’s kidnapping.
The explosion.
Nora.
Everything had grown from a feud their fathers began.
Roman opened the envelope.
Documents.
Photographs.
Bank records.
A letter from Salvatore.
Roman read silently.
Then sat down.
Nora watched grief move through him.
Not grief for the father he had known.
Grief for the father he now understood.
“I spent my whole life trying to become him.”
Nora sat beside him.
“You stopped.”
“Eventually.”
“That matters.”
Roman looked at Luca.
His brother stood near the window.
“How much of our lives belonged to dead men?” Luca asked.
Roman had no answer.
Nora did.
“As much as you keep giving them.”
Both brothers looked at her.
She pushed the envelope toward Roman.
“Decide.”
Roman stared at the papers.
Then carried them to the fireplace.
Luca stopped him.
“No.”
Roman frowned.
Luca took the envelope.
“We don’t destroy history because it hurts.”
He handed it to their attorney the next morning.
The evidence was provided to investigators.
Every remaining secret was exposed.
Roman’s father lost the heroic mythology his sons had built around him.
And strangely, Roman became freer.
He stopped defending the Bellini name.
Stopped behaving as though blood created obligation.
Months passed.
Second Table expanded.
Mia became co-owner.
Luca began dating a physical therapist named Rachel who seemed completely unimpressed by his surname.
Roman adored her for that.
Then hated her because Luca stopped answering his calls during dates.
Nora found the jealousy hilarious.
“You’re clingy.”
“I was imprisoned and discovered my brother was alive after believing him dead.”
“You called him nine times.”
“He could have been kidnapped.”
“He was at IKEA.”
“Exactly. A dangerous environment.”
Nora laughed.
Their lives became ordinary.
Beautifully ordinary.
Sunday dinners.
Arguments about groceries.
Roman burning toast.
Nora stealing his sweaters.
Luca appearing unannounced.
Tommy pretending he did not enjoy romantic comedies while knowing every character’s name.
Then, one spring morning, Nora opened her closet.
A small velvet box sat on the shelf.
Roman had never mentioned it again.
He had kept his promise.
Nora carried it downstairs.
Roman stood in the kitchen attempting pancakes.
One was burning.
“You’re committing crimes again.”
He looked down.
“Damn.”
She turned off the stove.
Then placed the box on the counter.
Roman froze.
His eyes moved from the box to Nora.
“You found it.”
“You weren’t hiding it well.”
“I wasn’t hiding it.”
Nora touched the velvet.
“Is this still the ring?”
“Yes.”
“The one you won’t use unless I ask?”
“Yes.”
She looked at him.
Roman became visibly nervous.
Nora enjoyed that for approximately five seconds.
Then she slid the box across the counter.
“Bring it.”
Roman stopped breathing.
“Nora.”
“Bring me the ring.”
He stared.
“You’re certain?”
She smiled through tears.
“The fact that you asked is why I am.”
Roman opened the box.
A simple diamond ring rested inside.
Nothing enormous.
Nothing designed to advertise wealth.
Roman removed it.
Then hesitated.
“I had a speech.”
“Of course.”
“It was good.”
“I’m sure.”
“I practiced.”
“Roman.”
He laughed nervously.
Then lowered himself onto one knee.
Nora covered her mouth.
“I loved you badly once,” he said.
Her smile faded into tears.
“I thought loving you meant keeping you close enough that nothing could take you from me.”
He swallowed.
“You taught me that love without freedom is just another locked door.”
Nora cried silently.
“I cannot promise I will never be afraid. I cannot promise I will never become controlling about home security, travel plans, or your criminally irresponsible habit of leaving windows unlocked.”
She laughed.
“But I promise that every day, you get to choose.”
His voice broke.
“And if you choose me, I will spend every day being grateful rather than entitled.”
Roman held up the ring.
“Nora Ellis, will you marry me?”
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then said, “I have one condition.”
Roman visibly panicked.
“What?”
“No armed guards at the wedding.”
He stared.
“Define armed.”
“Roman.”
“Fine.”
“And Tommy cannot frisk the caterers.”
“Unreasonable.”
“Roman.”
He smiled.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Nora knelt in front of him.
“When we disagree, I get half the closet.”
“You already have eighty percent.”
“That isn’t the point.”
Roman laughed.
“So?”
Nora kissed him.
“Yes.”
He slid the ring onto her finger.
Then the smoke alarm went off.
They both looked toward the stove.
Roman’s pancakes were burning.
Nora laughed so hard she had to sit on the floor.
Roman opened a window.
“This is not how I planned this.”
“It’s perfect.”
“No. There’s smoke.”
“Exactly.”
He looked at her.
She held out her hand.
Roman sat beside her on the kitchen floor.
They kissed beneath the screaming smoke detector while breakfast burned behind them.
Later, Nora would think that was the moment she understood happiness.
Not perfection.
Not safety guaranteed forever.
Just two imperfect people sitting on a kitchen floor, finally loving each other without cages.
Their wedding was scheduled for October.
Small.
Family only.
But three weeks before the ceremony, Nora received a phone call.
Lombardi’s was closing.
The restaurant where Roman had found her.
The place where Sadie had disappeared and Nora had returned.
The owner wanted to know whether she would come back for its final night.
Nora looked at Roman.
“Want to have dinner?”
“At Lombardi’s?”
“Yes.”
Roman smiled.
“Corner booth?”
Nora shook her head.
“No.”
May you like
She looked toward the kitchen.
“I have a better idea.”
