Chapter 7 - One-Two-Three
A year after Bellavita, I walked into the same private dining room.
My stomach twisted.
Damien noticed immediately.
“We can leave.”
“No.”
“Ellie.”
“I'm okay.”
He looked around.
“No photographers.”
“I noticed.”
“No violinist.”
“I noticed that too.”
“The perfume policy has changed.”
I laughed.
“You banned perfume?”
“Near my children.”
“You are impossible.”
“Effective.”
The twins were now walking.
Badly.
They charged across the carpet like two tiny drunk executives while three enormous security guards followed them in panic.
I laughed so hard I nearly spilled my water.
One twin grabbed Damien's trouser leg.
“Da!”
Damien froze.
I stared at him.
“Did he just—”
“Da!”
The second twin joined in.
“Da!”
Damien crouched.
Both boys climbed into his arms.
The feared Damien Moretti looked at me with an expression I would never describe to anyone who worked for him.
“You heard that?”
“I heard.”
“They said Dad.”
“Technically, they said ‘Da.’”
“Don't ruin this.”
I smiled.
“Congratulations.”
He kissed both boys on their heads.
Then one pointed at me.
“Eh!”
Damien looked smug.
“What?”
“That was Ellie.”
“That was a vowel.”
“Definitely Ellie.”
“You're delusional.”
“Ask him.”
“He's one.”
“Almost two.”
Dinner arrived.
No chaos.
No strange bottles.
No hidden enemies.
Marco and Keller were facing criminal proceedings, while the investigation triggered by the Bellavita incident had uncovered years of financial manipulation and stolen confidential information.
My own name had been cleared.
The debt wasn't magically gone.
But my career was back.
I had accepted a position at a respected pediatric neurological center, where I was developing a rhythm-based sensory regulation program.
This time, my name was on the research.
Damien had quietly funded part of the center's expansion.
When I discovered it, I confronted him.
He claimed it was an investment.
I called him a liar.
He called me ungrateful.
Then we had dinner.
That had become our pattern.
Dessert arrived.
Tiramisu.
I stared at it.
Damien noticed.
“Too soon?”
“It has been a year.”
“I can have it removed.”
I picked up my spoon.
“No.”
He watched me take a bite.
“Good?”
“Very.”
Then he reached inside his jacket.
I stopped chewing.
“What are you doing?”
His security guards suddenly found the walls extremely interesting.
“Damien?”
He placed a small black box on the table.
I nearly choked.
“No.”
His face changed.
“You haven't opened it.”
“That's what you told me about the employment contract.”
“This is different.”
“How?”
“There isn't a salary.”
I laughed.
“That's your argument?”
“Open it.”
I did.
Inside was a ring.
Simple.
Elegant.
Nothing absurd.
That surprised me more than the proposal itself.
Damien looked nervous.
Actually nervous.
I had watched this man confront betrayal without raising his voice.
Now his hands were slightly unsteady.
“Ellie Hart.”
“Oh God.”
“I had a speech.”
“What happened?”
“I forgot it.”
I laughed.
“So much for terrifying mafia boss.”
“Don't tell anyone.”
“I’m considering it.”
He looked at me.
Then his expression became serious.
“You walked toward my sons when everyone else stepped away.”
My smile faded.
“You gave them calm when I couldn't.”
“Damien—”
“And then you stopped me from becoming the worst version of myself.”
He reached across the table.
“I don't need someone who obeys me.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“That is fortunate.”
“I need you.”
The room became very quiet.
“Not because you saved my sons,” he continued. “Not because you helped expose Marco. And not because I owe you anything.”
His fingers closed around mine.
“I love you.”
There it was.
No dramatic speech.
No threats.
No empire.
Just the truth.
One of the twins slapped his spoon against his glass.
Clink.
Everyone looked over.
The second twin copied him.
Clink.
Then again.
One-two-three.
One-two-three.
I stared at them.
Damien started laughing.
I had rarely heard him laugh that way.
The babies continued their terrible little rhythm.
One-two-three.
I looked at the ring.
Then at Damien.
“There's one condition.”
His smile disappeared.
“What?”
“No armed guards at the wedding reception.”
Behind him, three security men looked alarmed.
“Impossible.”
“Then no wedding.”
“Ellie.”
“Damien.”
He stared at me.
“Two guards.”
“Zero.”
“One.”
“No.”
“Outside?”
I considered it.
“Outside.”
“Deal.”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
For a second, Damien didn't move.
“You said yes?”
“Yes.”
He stood, pulled me into his arms, and the twins immediately began shouting because apparently nobody was allowed to receive attention except them.
I laughed against his shoulder.
A year earlier, I had entered Bellavita wearing cheap nonslip shoes, carrying a tray and wondering how long I could keep pretending my real life was behind me.
Then two babies began trembling.
A bottle exposed a betrayal.
A man everyone feared discovered that power could not protect the people he loved.
And a waitress everyone overlooked finally got the chance to reclaim the name someone had tried to take from her.
The twins hit their spoons against their glasses again.
One.
Two.
Three.
Damien looked at me.
“Still works.”
I smiled.
“It's not magic.”
“I know.”
He kissed my forehead.
“It's rhythm.”
And surrounded by two laughing children, nervous security guards, untouched tiramisu, and the man who had once terrified an entire city, I realized something.
Three years earlier, I thought my life had ended.
It hadn't.
May you like
It had only lost its rhythm.
Now I had finally found it again.
