Chapter 7 - The Family Dinner Where Hannah Learned Vincent Had Been Protecting Her All AlongThe confrontation lasted seven minutes.
Seven minutes in which every lie Hannah had ever heard about the Moretti family collapsed.
Matteo had orchestrated the warehouse explosion.
He had bribed police officers.
He had manipulated company records.
He had convinced everyone Vincent's father died.
And when James Blake tried to expose him, Matteo killed him.
The memory chip contained everything.
Names.
Accounts.
Payments.
Photographs.
Audio recordings.
Enough to destroy Matteo.
Enough to destroy half the city's political machine.
But Matteo didn't get it.
Because Hannah did something he had never expected.
She threw the memory chip into a drainage channel.
Matteo's smile vanished.
Vincent moved.
Daniel fired.
Guards stormed the basement.
Matteo escaped through a hidden tunnel.
But he had lost.
Or so they thought.
Three weeks passed.
Hannah moved into the Moretti estate temporarily.
Not because she wanted to.
Because Vincent refused to let her stay alone.
She complained every day.
He ignored her every day.
Maria started treating Hannah like family.
Daniel stopped pretending he didn't enjoy their arguments.
And Vincent...
Vincent changed.
He slept more.
He smiled sometimes.
He stopped standing alone in dark hallways.
One evening, Hannah found him in the dining room.
There was a table set for dinner.
Candles.
Food.
Flowers.
She frowned.
“What is this?”
“Dinner.”
“Why?”
He looked almost embarrassed.
“Maria suggested it.”
“That sounds suspicious.”
Vincent pulled out a chair.
“Sit.”
She sat.
“You're acting strange.”
“How?”
“You're being nice.”
He looked offended.
“I’m always nice.”
“No.”
He sighed.
She smiled.
For a while, they ate quietly.
Then Vincent said, “I’ve decided something.”
“What?”
“I'm restructuring the company.”
Hannah looked up.
“Why?”
“The legitimate businesses will become independent.”
“And the others?”
“They disappear.”
She stared.
“You're leaving the mafia.”
“Yes.”
“For me?”
“For myself.”
She smiled.
“Good answer.”
He smiled back.
Hannah's heart skipped.
“You know,” she said, “you're much less frightening when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Smile.”
“I don't smile.”
“You are now.”
He shook his head.
Then silence returned.
Hannah looked at the scar on his neck.
“Does it still hurt?”
“Sometimes.”
She reached across the table.
Her fingertip touched it.
Vincent went still.
This time, nobody was watching.
No employees.
No security guards.
No guns.
Just them.
“I never realized,” Hannah whispered, “that the first time I touched this scar, I was touching a part of you nobody knew how to talk about.”
Vincent took her hand.
“The first time you touched it, I thought you were insane.”
“I was aiming for your shoulder.”
“I know.”
“And then you carried me like a bag of flour.”
“You were in danger.”
“You could have asked me to run.”
“You wouldn't have listened.”
She smiled.
“Probably not.”
Vincent looked at her for a long moment.
Then he said it.
“I love you.”
Hannah stopped breathing.
“What?”
“I love you.”
“Vincent…”
“I know it isn't fair.”
“Why?”
“Because you deserve a normal life.”
She shook her head.
“I never wanted normal.”
“You deserve freedom.”
“I choose you.”
His eyes closed briefly.
When they opened, they were wet.
“You shouldn't.”
“I know.”
She leaned closer.
“I choose you anyway.”
He stood.
She stood too.
He touched her face.
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
He laughed.
She smiled.
“But I'm sure enough.”
He kissed her.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like a man who had forgotten what tenderness felt like.
When they separated, Hannah rested her forehead against his.
“You still block my future.”
He smiled.
“How?”
“You're standing in front of it.”
She kissed him again.
“No one gets to tell me what my future looks like.”
Vincent held her.
May you like
“Then choose it.”
She did.
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