Chapter 10 - THE TRUTH ABOUT ISABELLA
Rebecca called me on a rainy Tuesday afternoon.
"Emily, investigators recovered something."
I sat down.
"What?"
"A recording Isabella Moretti made before she died."
My heart pounded.
"Does Vincent know?"
"Not yet. We're notifying him through his attorney."
I swallowed.
"What does it say?"
Rebecca hesitated.
"It identifies the financial scheme she was investigating."
The recording had been stored on an encrypted drive recovered from a former accountant who agreed to cooperate with investigators.
Isabella's voice was clear.
Calm.
But frightened.
She described false invoices, shell companies, and payments diverted from public redevelopment projects.
She also named Sebastian Rourke as a central figure in the scheme.
Then she said something that changed everything.
Vincent doesn't know how far this goes.
He thinks the problem is inside one of his shipping companies.
It isn't.
Rourke has people inside the development authority, the banks, and the contracting firms.
If something happens to me, the records must go to the authorities.
When Vincent heard the recording, he reportedly sat in silence for nearly an hour.
Then he gave investigators access to company records Isabella had once asked him to preserve.
Some of those records exposed misconduct within businesses he controlled.
His attorney warned him that cooperating could create serious legal consequences.
Vincent proceeded anyway.
I saw him two days later.
Not because he called.
Because I did.
We met at the same small Italian restaurant in Greenwich Village.
He looked older.
Tired.
When he saw me, he stood.
"Emily."
I approached.
"Hi."
He waited.
I sat.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then I asked, "How are you?"
He gave a humorless laugh.
"That's a complicated question."
"I have time."
He looked at me.
"I heard Isabella's voice."
My chest tightened.
"I'm sorry."
He nodded.
"For four years, I wondered whether I could have saved her."
"Can you?"
He looked down.
"No."
I waited.
He continued.
"But I can help make sure the people who hurt her are held accountable."
I studied him.
"Even if it costs you?"
"Yes."
"Even if you lose your companies?"
He looked directly at me.
"Yes."
I believed him.
Not because he was powerful.
Not because he was handsome.
But because he had finally stopped pretending he could protect everything by controlling it.
After dinner, we walked outside.
The rain had stopped.
Vincent stood beside me beneath the restaurant awning.
"Emily."
I turned.
"Yes?"
"May I ask you something?"
I smiled faintly.
"You're learning."
He almost laughed.
"Would you consider having dinner with me again?"
I studied him.
Then nodded.
"Yes."
His expression softened.
"But Vincent?"
"Yes?"
"No more grand gestures in front of a restaurant full of people."
He smiled.
"Understood."
I hesitated.
Then added, "And next time you want to kiss me, ask."
His eyes held mine.
"May I kiss you now?"
My heart stumbled.
I smiled.
"Yes."
This time, when his lips touched mine, I wasn't surprised.
I wasn't being rescued.
I wasn't being claimed.
May you like
I was choosing.
And that made all the difference.
