Chapter 12 - The Missing Bride
The official story was simple.
Camille had left the estate after an argument.
The wedding remained scheduled.
Massimo was resting.
Dean was handling business elsewhere.
Almost none of it was true.
Massimo refused to cancel the ceremony.
Again.
Samuel stared at him.
“There may not be a bride.”
“She’ll come back.”
“How can you know?”
“Because she needs the marriage.”
Samuel looked at the trust documents.
“The forged incapacity certificates are worthless if we challenge them.”
“She doesn’t know we can.”
Massimo leaned back.
“She still believes Hale is missing.”
“She doesn’t know we have the ledger.”
“She doesn’t know Marco is alive.”
“And she does not know I can walk.”
Samuel slowly understood.
“You want her to believe the plan still works.”
“Yes.”
“And Dean?”
Massimo looked toward the rain-streaked window.
No body had been recovered.
“I want him to believe the same thing.”
The next afternoon, Camille called.
Her voice sounded wounded.
Perfectly controlled.
“I needed space.”
Massimo almost admired her.
“You disappeared.”
“You frightened me.”
“How?”
“You’ve been angry.”
“You’ve been secretive.”
Massimo looked at Luca.
Luca was recording the call.
Massimo softened his voice.
“I’m dying, Camille.”
Silence.
“I know.”
The tenderness in her answer was terrifying.
Massimo continued.
“I don’t want to spend whatever time I have left fighting.”
Camille breathed slowly.
“Neither do I.”
“Come home.”
Another pause.
“And the wedding?”
“Tomorrow.”
Camille returned three hours later.
She cried when she saw Massimo.
She knelt beside the wheelchair.
“I’m sorry.”
Massimo touched her hair.
“So am I.”
Her tears wet his hand.
He wondered whether they were real.
Maybe some were.
People were complicated enough to betray you and still grieve the person they were betraying.
That did not make betrayal smaller.
Camille kissed him.
Over her shoulder, Massimo saw Nathan Ashwood entering the mansion.
Nathan looked at the wheelchair.
Then smiled.
They still believed.
That evening, Nina was forbidden from leaving the secure suite.
She complained.
Massimo visited her.
“You’re going to the wedding?”
“Yes.”
“Can I come?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because grown-ups are going to behave badly.”
Nina frowned.
“They always do.”
Massimo laughed before he could stop himself.
Carla stood near the window.
After Nina fell asleep, she walked Massimo into the hallway.
“Tomorrow.”
Massimo nodded.
“You could still leave.”
“No.”
“Why?”
He looked at her.
“Because I spent six months letting other people decide whether my life was finished.”
“I’m done with that.”
Carla lowered her voice.
“You don’t have to prove anything by getting yourself killed.”
Massimo studied her.
“I’m not trying to prove anything.”
“Then what are you trying to do?”
He looked through the doorway at Nina sleeping.
“Make sure no one ever has to hide from these people again.”
Carla’s expression softened.
“You mean us?”
“I mean everyone.”
That answer surprised even Massimo.
Samuel’s words returned.
Decide what you actually want to keep.
Massimo had decided.
Not the dirty accounts.
Not the protection rackets inherited from men who believed fear created respect.
Not the network of favors that turned crime into tradition.
If he survived, the Rinaldi empire would change.
Or it would end.
That night, Massimo walked forty-eight steps without assistance.
Elena stood behind him.
“Tomorrow you may get one dramatic entrance.”
“One?”
“One.”
She pointed at his leg.
“After that, sit down before your body chooses for you.”
Massimo looked offended.
“I hate medical advice.”
“I’ve noticed.”
At midnight, Luca received a message.
A guard found wet clothing inside an abandoned maintenance shed near the eastern fence.
Dean had survived the inlet.
Massimo looked at the evidence.
There was blood on the sleeve.
Not much.
A second item had been left behind.
A wedding invitation.
May you like
Across Massimo’s name, Dean had written one sentence.
See you at the altar.
