Chapter 5 - THE SECRET BEHIND THE PHOTOGRAPH
Bianca Morelli wanted access to Caruso Atlantic Holdings.
Her father, Lorenzo Morelli, owned a struggling development company.
For years, he'd tried to secure financing through Dante.
Dante had refused.
The company's financial records were too risky.
Its debt was too high.
And several proposed transactions raised serious concerns.
But Lorenzo had another idea.
If Bianca became close to Dante, perhaps the family could gain influence through personal connections.
Bianca had agreed.
She was beautiful.
Ambitious.
And accustomed to getting what she wanted.
She had also spent years hearing that Dante Caruso was impossible to manipulate.
She considered that a challenge.
Meanwhile, I began rebuilding my life.
Olivia helped me find a small studio apartment in Brooklyn.
It had exposed brick walls.
Tall windows.
And enough natural light for painting.
I signed the lease in my own name.
Paid the deposit from my personal savings.
And bought a secondhand easel.
For the first time in years, I unpacked my old art supplies.
Some paints had dried.
Several brushes were ruined.
But the canvases remained.
I stood before a blank one.
And cried.
Not because I was sad.
Because I'd forgotten how much I'd missed this part of myself.
My first painting was terrible.
The second wasn't much better.
The third made me smile.
I painted late into the night.
Listened to music.
Ordered takeout.
Laughed with Olivia.
And slowly remembered who Elena had been before she became Mrs. Caruso.
One afternoon, I received an invitation to a charity art exhibition.
The organizer had seen my old portfolio.
She wanted to feature several of my paintings.
I stared at the email.
Then called Olivia.
“They want my work.”
She screamed.
I laughed.
“They actually want my work!”
That evening, Dante learned about the exhibition.
Rosa had mentioned it after speaking with Olivia.
He stared at the invitation.
My name appeared near the bottom.
ELENA MARQUEZ — EMERGING ARTIST.
Not Elena Caruso.
Elena Marquez.
My maiden name.
He read it twice.
Then whispered:
“She used to paint.”
Rosa looked at him.
“Yes, sir.”
Dante swallowed.
“I forgot.”
Rosa's expression softened.
“No, Mr. Caruso.”
May you like
He looked up.
“You stopped noticing.”
