Chapter 6 - The Son Who Came Home Too Late
The second name stunned everyone.
Victor Hale.
Lorenzo’s longtime financial administrator.
The man who had managed Giovanni’s medical accounts for five years.
Lorenzo stared at Marco.
“You’re certain?”
“We traced payments.”
Victor had approved every false nursing invoice.
He had also been receiving transfers from shell companies connected to household expenses.
Mrs. Gable laughed bitterly.
“There. Now you understand.”
Lorenzo looked at her.
“You and Victor?”
“He told me your father would never recover.”
Giovanni’s expression hardened.
“He said nobody would ever question expenses as long as the reports looked clean.”
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened.
“And you believed him?”
“I believed you.”
That hit him.
Mrs. Gable continued.
“You never came upstairs.”
Silence.
I looked at Lorenzo.
His face changed.
She had found the one accusation he couldn’t dismiss.
“You came to the estate,” she said. “You signed papers. Took meetings. Asked doctors for updates. Then you left.”
“Enough,” Marco warned.
“No. Let him hear it.”
Lorenzo said nothing.
Mrs. Gable pointed toward Giovanni.
“If he suffered, you helped make it possible.”
Giovanni made a strained sound.
Lorenzo looked at his father.
For the first time, the dangerous man everyone feared looked like nothing more than a son who had failed someone he loved.
“Father.”
Giovanni reached toward him.
Lorenzo crouched.
“I should have known.”
Two blinks.
“I should have checked.”
Two blinks.
“I abandoned you.”
Giovanni’s hand caught the front of Lorenzo’s coat.
His mouth worked.
“N…no.”
Lorenzo froze.
Giovanni fought for another word.
“Son.”
Lorenzo bowed his head.
His father touched his cheek.
Nobody spoke.
Even Mrs. Gable looked away.
Lorenzo finally stood.
He turned toward her.
“You’re right about one thing.”
Mrs. Gable stared.
“I should have come home sooner.”
Her lips parted.
“But my guilt does not erase your choices.”
Security escorted her out.
Victor was arrested later that afternoon after attempting to leave New York.
Lorenzo turned over the financial evidence to attorneys and investigators.
Mrs. Gable would face charges for theft, fraud, financial exploitation, and abuse.
Several employees were dismissed.
Others came forward with statements.
By evening, the estate felt like a completely different house.
But I had my own problem.
I was packing.
Lorenzo found me in the small servant bedroom folding my clothes into a suitcase.
“What are you doing?”
“Leaving.”
He leaned against the doorway.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t belong here.”
“My father would disagree.”
“This house is your family’s.”
“You work here.”
“Worked.”
“Who fired you?”
I looked at him.
“Mrs. Gable.”
“She no longer has that authority.”
“I don’t want to spend the next ten years wondering whether everyone thinks I’m here because your father likes me.”
Lorenzo entered the room.
“What do you want?”
I hesitated.
“No one has asked me that in a long time.”
“I’m asking.”
I sat on the bed.
“I want Lily safe.”
“That’s obvious.”
“I want a small apartment where nobody can suddenly throw us out.”
“Done.”
I frowned.
“I’m not asking you to buy me one.”
“I know.”
“I want work.”
“What kind?”
I looked down.
“Before Brody, I was studying to become a licensed practical nurse.”
Lorenzo’s eyebrows rose.
“I dropped out when the debts started.”
“So finish.”
“I can’t afford school.”
“My father can.”
“No.”
He sighed.
“You say that frequently.”
“Because Morettis keep trying to throw money at me.”
“My father has spent five years unable to make decisions for himself. If he wants to help you, refusing everything may not be kindness.”
That stopped me.
Lorenzo continued.
“He wants to choose something.”
I looked toward the window.
“School?”
“School.”
“And I earn my own living.”
“Yes.”
“And nobody owns me.”
His expression changed.
“No one.”
I studied him.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“I’ll talk to Giovanni.”
“That may be the most difficult negotiation you ever have.”
He was right.
When I told Giovanni I would accept tuition but nothing more, he blinked twice.
“No?”
One blink.
“You want to argue?”
One blink.
“You can barely talk.”
His eyebrow lifted.
Lorenzo stood beside me.
“I warned you.”
Eventually we compromised.
Giovanni would pay for my nursing program.
I would remain at the estate temporarily in a paid companion role while he underwent intensive rehabilitation.
A proper medical team would handle his physical needs.
I would simply do what I had always done.
Talk to him.
Read to him.
Argue with him.
Bring him pears.
Three weeks later, something else happened.
I was helping Giovanni practice speech when a receptionist called from downstairs.
“There’s a man at the gate asking for Emma.”
My stomach dropped.
“Who?”
“Brody.”
Giovanni’s eyes immediately hardened.
Lorenzo, who had been reading documents nearby, looked up.
“Who is Brody?”
“My ex.”
“The gambling debts?”
“Yes.”
“Does he know you’re here?”
“Apparently.”
Lorenzo stood.
“I’ll handle it.”
“No.”
He stopped.
“I’ll handle it.”
“Emma—”
“I spent too long letting other people decide what happened to me.”
Giovanni made a low approving sound.
Lorenzo stared at him.
“You’re encouraging her?”
One blink.
I smiled.
“See?”
At the gate, Brody looked exactly the same.
Expensive sneakers he couldn’t afford.
Restless eyes.
Fake smile.
“Emma.”
“What do you want?”
“I heard you landed somewhere nice.”
I folded my arms.
“You vanished.”
“I made mistakes.”
“You left me pregnant with your gambling debts.”
“I was scared.”
“So was I.”
He looked past me toward the mansion.
“You living here now?”
“That’s none of your business.”
He smiled.
“Come on. We’re having a baby.”
“No.”
His expression changed.
“No?”
“You don’t get to disappear when things are hard and return when you see a mansion.”
He lowered his voice.
“I’m her father.”
“You can establish whatever legal rights you believe you have through a court.”
Brody’s face darkened.
“You think these people make you better than me?”
“No.”
I placed one hand over Lily.
“Walking away from you made me better than who I was with you.”
He stared at me.
Then at Lorenzo, who stood twenty feet behind me without speaking.
Brody’s confidence disappeared.
He backed toward his car.
“This isn’t over.”
I met his eyes.
“Yes, it is.”
And for the first time in months—
May you like
I believed myself.
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