Chapter 9 - The Last Valente Lie
The driver’s name was Michael Caruso.
He had spent nine years believing the Valentes would kill him if he spoke.
Alessandra had found him first.
Now prosecutors had him.
And he had records.
Adrian sat across from Caruso in a federal interview room two days later.
Sienna watched remotely with Luca and Theo.
Rocco was not permitted inside.
Caruso looked older than his fifty years.
“Who hired you?” Adrian asked.
Caruso swallowed.
“Rocco Valente.”
Sienna closed her eyes.
Adrian did not move.
“Why?”
“He said you needed to be frightened.”
“Not killed?”
“No. I was supposed to hit the rear quarter of your car. Make it look like an accident.”
“But you hit the driver's side.”
“You accelerated through the light. Timing went wrong.”
Adrian’s voice became quieter.
“Rocco caused the crash.”
“Yes.”
“And then convinced me my father did it.”
“Yes.”
The interview ended.
Adrian walked out without speaking.
Sienna met him in the hallway.
He looked at her.
“My entire life is built on other people's lies.”
“No.”
He frowned.
She took his hand and placed it over her stomach.
“This isn't.”
He closed his eyes.
Then he went to confront Rocco.
The older man did not deny it.
Years earlier, Rocco had feared Adrian would discover embezzlement inside several Valente companies.
He arranged the crash to frighten his nephew into stepping away.
When the accident caused possible fertility damage, Rocco saw an opportunity.
He bribed Corrado.
Then blamed Matteo.
Later, when Adrian recovered, Rocco continued the lie to protect Luca’s succession.
Alessandra discovered everything.
Instead of exposing Rocco, she blackmailed him.
That was how the conspiracy grew.
One lie feeding another.
One generation poisoning the next.
Adrian listened.
Then asked, “Did my father know?”
“No.”
“Was he responsible for any of it?”
“Matteo was responsible for plenty. Just not that.”
Adrian looked away.
His father had died while Adrian secretly believed he had tried to destroy him.
There would never be a chance to repair that.
Rocco whispered, “I'm sorry.”
Adrian turned.
“No, you're afraid.”
Rocco lowered his eyes.
“You aren't sorry because you hurt me. You're sorry because the truth finally cost you something.”
He walked away.
Rocco called after him.
“What happens now?”
Adrian stopped.
“You tell prosecutors everything.”
“They'll put me in prison.”
“Yes.”
“I'm your uncle.”
Adrian looked back.
“And Sienna is my wife.”
That was the end.
Rocco surrendered.
His testimony dismantled the remaining criminal structure.
Luca cooperated too, avoiding charges for crimes committed without his knowledge.
He chose to leave New York afterward.
“I think I need somewhere nobody knows my last name,” he told Adrian.
“Where?”
“Seattle.”
Adrian raised an eyebrow.
“Why Seattle?”
“It's far.”
“Compelling argument.”
The cousins embraced.
No speeches.
They had lost enough years to men who confused silence with strength.
Bellini Bakery reopened six weeks later.
Adrian refused to pay for it entirely.
Sienna refused to let him.
They compromised.
He purchased the building.
She paid rent.
One dollar per year.
“You're impossible,” she told him.
“Market conditions.”
“Criminal.”
“Formerly adjacent to criminal.”
At thirty-three weeks, Sienna stood behind the bakery counter when a contraction tightened across her abdomen.
She froze.
Then it passed.
Braxton Hicks.
Probably.
She did not tell Adrian.
That lasted eleven minutes.
He walked in carrying lunch.
“You're making that face.”
“What face?”
“The face where you lie badly.”
“I do not lie badly.”
“Your left eyebrow goes up.”
“It does not.”
It went up.
Adrian stared.
Sienna sighed.
“Small contraction.”
The lunch hit the counter.
“What?”
“Practice contraction.”
“We're going to the hospital.”
“No.”
“Sienna.”
“Adrian.”
Five minutes later, they were in the car.
The doctor confirmed everything was fine.
Adrian remained unconvinced.
He moved his office into their bedroom.
Sienna eventually threatened divorce if he asked whether she was having contractions one more time.
He waited twelve minutes.
“Any contractions?”
She threw a pillow at him.
At thirty-six weeks, Adrian finished dismantling the last criminal arm of the Valente organization.
At thirty-seven, Alessandra pleaded guilty.
At thirty-eight, Rocco was sentenced.
Sienna attended neither hearing.
She was done allowing the old Valente family to occupy every important day.
One rainy Sunday morning, she woke to find Adrian standing at the nursery window.
The room was pale cream.
A wooden crib stood against the wall.
Above it hung a small framed piece of paper.
Sienna walked closer.
It was the original medical report.
The one stating Adrian’s fertility might recover.
She frowned.
“Why frame that?”
“To remember.”
“The lie?”
“No.”
He turned toward her.
“That experts can be wrong. Families can lie. Certainty can be manufactured.”
He touched her stomach.
“And sometimes the life you're told you'll never have walks straight through your door and starts arguing about bakery rent.”
She smiled.
“I didn't walk through your door. I was contractually delivered.”
“Romantic.”
“Very.”
He kissed her.
Then Sienna froze.
Warm liquid ran down her leg.
Adrian looked down.
Then back at her.
Neither moved.
Sienna whispered, “Adrian.”
“Yes?”
“I think my water broke.”
For three seconds, the feared former mafia boss appeared incapable of language.
Then he shouted for the hospital bag.
“It’s beside you,” Sienna said.
He grabbed the diaper bag.
“Wrong one.”
He dropped it.
Picked up another.
“That’s my purse.”
“Why do we own so many bags?”
Sienna doubled over.
This contraction was different.
Adrian’s panic vanished instantly.
He caught her.
“Okay. Look at me.”
She breathed.
Pain climbed.
Then slowly released.
Adrian kissed her forehead.
“I've got you.”
Sienna looked at him.
“No.”
He frowned.
“We've got each other.”
Something in his face softened.
“Yes.”
He helped her downstairs.
Rain hammered Manhattan.
Marco waited with the car.
Halfway to the hospital, contractions were four minutes apart.
Sienna crushed Adrian’s hand.
“You did this.”
“I am aware.”
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
“I love you.”
“I know that too.”
She glared.
“Stop being calm.”
“I am absolutely not calm.”
He looked calm.
Until Marco missed the hospital entrance.
Adrian nearly climbed into the front seat.
“Turn around!”
“Boss, traffic—”
“My wife is having my daughter in this car if you don't—”
Sienna suddenly laughed.
Both men looked at her.
“What?” Adrian demanded.
She shook her head.
Nine months ago she had entered an arranged marriage to save a bakery.
Now Adrian was arguing with a driver while holding her hand as if it were the only thing anchoring him to Earth.
Another contraction came.
She stopped laughing.
By the time they reached the hospital, Sienna could barely speak.
Nurses rushed her upstairs.
Hours passed.
Labor became harder.
Then the fetal monitor changed.
A nurse looked toward the doctor.
Adrian saw it.
“What?”
Nobody answered immediately.
“What happened?”
The doctor stepped closer to Sienna.
“The baby's heart rate is dropping.”
Adrian went white.
Sienna gripped his hand.
May you like
The doctor continued.
“We need to deliver now.”
