Chapter 6 - The Last Ghost of the Bianchi Family
Four months later, Lorenzo received a call at 2:13 a.m.
Amelia.
He answered immediately.
“What's wrong?”
“Someone's downstairs.”
He was already getting dressed.
“Lock your bedroom door.”
“Lorenzo—”
“I'm coming.”
Twelve minutes later, he entered her building with Marco.
The apartment door was open.
Lorenzo's heart dropped.
“Amelia?”
“Here.”
She stepped from the kitchen.
Safe.
Lorenzo crossed the room.
“What happened?”
“A man came inside.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
Marco checked the rooms.
“Gone.”
Amelia held up an envelope.
“He left this.”
Inside was a photograph of Vittorio Bianchi.
On the back:
THE OLD MAN LEFT ONE MORE SECRET.
Lorenzo frowned.
“What secret?”
Amelia looked toward him.
“I think I know.”
They drove to Thomas's house.
When Lorenzo showed him the photograph, Thomas became silent.
“You know something,” Lorenzo said.
Thomas nodded.
“Your father created a trust.”
“For what?”
“Families.”
“What families?”
“People harmed by the organization.”
Lorenzo stared.
Thomas continued.
“He secretly moved money out for years. He intended to use it for restitution.”
“How much?”
“About eighteen million dollars.”
Marco whistled softly.
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
Amelia turned the photograph over.
“Maybe that's what someone is searching for.”
Lorenzo looked at his father's image.
Another ghost.
Another unfinished task.
But this time he didn't reach for anger.
He reached for the phone.
“Who are you calling?” Amelia asked.
“My attorney.”
“Why?”
“To find the trust.”
“And if you find it?”
Lorenzo looked at her.
“We finish what my father started.”
---
They found it eleven days later.
Vittorio had hidden the funds behind layers of legitimate holding companies.
Lorenzo could have kept the money.
No one would have known.
Instead, he established an independently administered compensation fund and turned the records over to investigators.
Marco stared at the paperwork after Lorenzo signed.
“Eighteen million.”
“Yes.”
“You didn't even hesitate.”
“I've spent enough of my life protecting money that poisoned everyone around it.”
Marco smiled.
“Your father would be proud.”
Lorenzo looked toward the window.
“I hope so.”
A knock came.
Amelia entered.
Marco excused himself.
She placed a small velvet box on Lorenzo's desk.
He recognized it.
The engagement ring.
His expression became unreadable.
“You've decided.”
“Yes.”
He looked at the box.
“I understand.”
Amelia frowned.
“You haven't opened it.”
“I know what's inside.”
“No, you don't.”
Lorenzo looked at her.
She pushed the box closer.
He opened it.
Empty.
His eyes lifted.
Amelia raised her left hand.
The diamond was back on her finger.
For once, Lorenzo Bianchi had absolutely nothing to say.
Amelia smiled.
“You promised you wouldn't ask again until I wasn't afraid.”
He slowly stood.
“And?”
“I'm not afraid of you anymore.”
He came around the desk.
“Amelia.”
“One condition.”
“Anything.”
“No cathedral.”
He almost laughed.
“Agreed.”
“No three hundred guests.”
“Agreed.”
“No million-dollar orchids.”
“That one hurts.”
“Lorenzo.”
“Agreed.”
She stepped closer.
“And if I ever say I need space?”
“I give it to you.”
“If I'm scared?”
“You tell me.”
“And you listen.”
“I listen.”
She looked into his eyes.
“Then ask me.”
Lorenzo took her hand.
This time there was no audience.
No orchestra.
No rival families.
No empire watching.
“Amelia Carmichael, will you marry me?”
She let him wait three seconds.
He narrowed his eyes.
“You're enjoying this.”
“Very much.”
“Amelia.”
“Yes.”
His expression softened.
“Yes?”
She smiled.
May you like
“Yes, Lorenzo.”
---
