Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary of the Library
By midnight, the ballroom was empty.
The guests had been dismissed in quiet, hurried groups, eager to spread the scandal of the century across the city's highest social circles. The catering staff was cleaning away untouched platters of lamb and melted ice sculptures, moving like ghosts through the quiet halls.
I sat on a velvet sofa inside Alessandro’s private ground-floor library, wrapped in a warm cashmere blanket he had brought down himself.
Emma was asleep beside me, her small head resting on my lap, her fever finally breaking under the cool compress Dr. Laurent—Alessandro’s personal physician—had prepared for her an hour ago.
The room smelled of old leather books, cedar wood, and the rich aroma of black coffee brewing in a glass pot on the side table.
Alessandro stood near the heavy mahogany desk, pouring two cups.
He brought one over to me, setting it gently on the coaster beside my sofa.
“Drink,” he said softly. “It will help with the shock.”
“Mr. Moretti, I... I am so sorry,” I whispered, looking down at my hands. “I should have controlled Emma. I shouldn't have brought her downstairs. If I had just stayed in the east room—”
“Elena,” he interrupted smoothly.
It was the first time in three years he had called me by my first name.
I looked up, meeting his dark, intense eyes.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Alessandro said, sitting in the leather armchair across from me. “You and your daughter saved me from making the biggest mistake of my life.”
“She exposed your fiancée in front of the entire city,” I said, my voice trembling. “The Cole family has powerful allies. They will hate us. They will come after me.”
Alessandro leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together.
“Vanessa Cole was never my fiancée because I loved her,” Alessandro admitted quietly. “My father’s former council pushed for the match to unite our shipping territories. I tolerated her because it seemed practical. But tonight proved she was dangerous—not just vain, but deceitful.”
He looked at little Emma sleeping peacefully on my lap.
“Your daughter has more courage than half the men sitting in my boardroom,” he added, a faint, genuine smile touching the corner of his lips. “She saw a lie and called it what it was.”
I squeezed Emma’s small shoulder gently. “She’s three. She doesn't know how dangerous the world is yet.”
“She won't have to,” Alessandro said, his tone turning fiercely protective. “As long as you are under my roof, no one—not the Coles, not the city council, not anyone—will ever touch you or Emma.”
Before I could answer, the library door opened with a soft knock.
Marco stepped inside, holding an encrypted leather folder. His expression was grave.
“Boss,” Marco said quietly. “We checked the financial records of Cole Enterprises as you requested.”
Alessandro stood up instantly, his gentle warmth vanishing, replaced by the sharp demeanor of the Moretti syndicate leader. “What did you find?”
Marco looked at me, hesitating for a fraction of a second, then looked back at his boss.
“Vanessa Cole wasn't acting alone,” Marco revealed. “Her father took a twenty-million-dollar loan three months ago from Julian Vance—the head of the waterfront union.”
My heart stopped in my chest.
May you like
Julian Vance.
The man who owned the construction firm where my husband Daniel had died three years ago.
