Chapter 9 - The Choice Was Hers
Gabriel arrived thirty-seven minutes later escorted by two federal agents.
Beatatrice was furious.
“You're late.”
Gabriel blinked.
Then smiled.
It was the first genuine smile she had seen from him in months.
“I had federal complications.”
“I don't care.”
“Understood.”
Another contraction hit.
Beatatrice grabbed his hand.
Gabriel's smile disappeared.
“Doctor!”
“Don't yell.”
“She's in pain.”
“I'm having a baby, Gabriel. Pain is somewhat involved.”
The nurse hid a smile.
For the next six hours, Gabriel did exactly what Beatatrice asked.
Nothing more.
When she wanted his hand, he gave it.
When she wanted silence, he stayed silent.
When she told him to leave for ten minutes because his breathing irritated her, he left.
At 8:14 p.m., their daughter entered the world screaming.
Gabriel broke.
The nurse placed the baby against Beatatrice's chest.
Tiny.
Pink.
Furious.
Perfect.
Beatatrice sobbed.
Gabriel stood beside the bed with tears streaming openly down his face.
“She's beautiful.”
Beatatrice looked at him.
“Do you want to hold her?”
His expression changed.
“May I?”
That word nearly destroyed her.
May.
Not give her to me.
Not she's mine.
May I?
Beatatrice nodded.
Gabriel took his daughter with trembling hands.
“Hello.”
The feared Gabriel Rossy whispered to a seven-pound infant as though addressing royalty.
“I'm your father.”
The baby opened dark eyes.
Gabriel laughed through his tears.
“And I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing.”
Beatatrice smiled.
“You finally admitted it.”
He looked at her.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
“What do we call her?” he asked.
Beatatrice had chosen the name weeks earlier.
“Hope.”
Gabriel stared at the baby.
“Hope Rossy?”
“Hope Bellini Rossy.”
He nodded.
“Perfect.”
Gabriel was taken back into federal custody that night.
His cooperation earned him immunity on several conspiracy charges, but not everything.
He accepted responsibility for financial crimes committed years earlier.
Six months later, he stood before a federal judge.
Beatatrice attended.
Not as the obedient wife.
Not as a character witness asking for mercy.
Simply as the mother of his daughter.
Gabriel received eighteen months in federal prison followed by supervised release.
Before marshals took him away, he looked at Beatatrice.
She approached.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I know.”
“I'll understand if you've moved on when I get out.”
Beatatrice looked at him carefully.
“For once, don't decide my future for me.”
A faint smile.
“Yes, ma'am.”
Eighteen months changed them both.
Beatatrice transformed Bellini Maritime into a legitimate international logistics company.
Vanessa entered therapy and eventually became director of a nonprofit supporting families affected by coercive control.
Their relationship healed slowly.
Eleanor moved into a condo three blocks from Beatatrice and became the world's most enthusiastic grandmother.
Adrian returned east.
Before leaving, he kissed Beatatrice on the cheek.
“You know,” he said, “Gabriel thought I wanted you.”
“Did you?”
Adrian smiled.
“For about ten minutes.”
Beatatrice laughed.
“What changed?”
“I realized you were still in love with the idiot.”
She stopped smiling.
Adrian opened his car door.
“Love isn't the problem, Bea. What you accept because of it is.”
Those words stayed with her.
Gabriel wrote every week from prison.
He never asked her to wait.
He wrote about Hope.
About therapy.
About his father.
About learning that control had been the only language of love he'd witnessed growing up.
He never used it as an excuse.
On Hope's first birthday, a package arrived.
Inside was a wooden dollhouse Gabriel had made in the prison workshop.
Every door opened.
Beatatrice cried when she noticed that.
Every single door.
Then came the morning of his release.
Gabriel expected Luca.
Instead, when the prison gates opened, Beatatrice stood beside her SUV.
Hope was on her hip.
Gabriel stopped walking.
For once, the man who always knew what to say had nothing.
Beatatrice approached.
Hope stared curiously at him.
Gabriel's eyes filled.
“Hi, little star.”
Hope reached toward him.
“Da.”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
Beatatrice had sent videos.
Photographs.
Voice recordings.
But he had never heard that word in person.
“Can I hold her?”
Beatatrice handed Hope to him.
Gabriel buried his face against his daughter's hair.
Beatatrice watched.
Then Gabriel looked at her.
“Why are you here?”
She considered the question.
“Because I wanted to be.”
Hope grabbed his nose.
Gabriel laughed.
Beatatrice smiled.
“But don't misunderstand.”
“I won't.”
“We aren't going back.”
His smile disappeared.
“I know.”
“If there's anything between us, we start somewhere completely new.”
Gabriel stared at her.
“Anything?”
“Don't make me regret this.”
“I won't.”
She opened the passenger door.
Gabriel strapped Hope into the car seat.
Beatatrice watched him struggle with the buckle for nearly a minute.
“The terrifying mafia boss defeated by child safety equipment.”
“I dismantled the mafia, remember?”
“The buckle remains unimpressed.”
He laughed.
And for the first time since the night she escaped, Beatatrice laughed with him.
Then her phone rang.
Daniel.
She answered.
His first sentence erased her smile.
“Bea, don't take Gabriel home.”
“Why?”
“Someone broke into the evidence warehouse last night.”
Her blood chilled.
“What did they take?”
Daniel paused.
“Your father's original ledger.”
Gabriel heard.
His expression hardened.
Beatatrice asked the only question that mattered.
“Victor?”
“No.”
“Crane?”
“No.”
May you like
Daniel's voice lowered.
“Someone we thought was dead.”
