Chapter 12 - A Kiss Before the Betrayal
Isabella Costello arrived in New York on a rainy Saturday morning.
No dramatic motorcade.
No expensive jewelry.
No entourage.
Just a silver-haired woman in a simple beige coat, carrying a small suitcase and a photograph of her son when he was eight years old.
I watched from several feet away as Adriano approached her inside a private airport reception room.
He stopped.
She stopped.
Seventeen years stood between them.
"Adriano?"
His face crumpled.
"Mom?"
Isabella dropped her suitcase.
He crossed the room in three long strides.
Then the most feared man in New York wrapped his arms around his mother and began to cry.
Not quietly.
Not gracefully.
He held her like a little boy who had spent his entire life waiting for someone to come back.
"I'm sorry," she whispered over and over.
He shook his head against her shoulder.
"I thought you were dead."
"I know, baby."
"I thought you left because of me."
She cupped his face.
"Never."
I turned away, wiping my own eyes.
Some reunions were too intimate to witness.
But when Isabella reached for my hand a moment later, I understood that she wanted me there.
"You're Eliza."
I nodded.
She smiled through her tears.
"Your mother told me about you when you were little."
I squeezed her hand.
"She's been waiting to see you again."
Isabella had spent years living under an assumed name outside New York.
With assistance from Daniel, she'd preserved copies of documents linking Lorenzo to Evergreen's fraudulent operations.
But when Daniel lost contact with her, she'd believed the evidence had been compromised.
She had recently contacted Dr. Pierce after learning about Nora's hospitalization.
"Lorenzo found me last month," she explained.
Adriano's expression hardened.
"Did he threaten you?"
"He reminded me that people I loved still lived in New York."
"Why did you come back?"
She looked at him.
"Because I spent seventeen years trying to keep you safe from the truth. And all it did was leave you alone with the very person I was trying to protect you from."
Adriano lowered his eyes.
Isabella touched his cheek.
"No more hiding."
For the first time in years, we ate dinner like a family.
My parents joined us at Adriano's house after my mother received permission for a short supervised visit.
Mrs. Winters had sent a basket of fresh bread.
Marco appeared wearing an apron that was entirely too small for his enormous frame.
Adriano stared at him.
"What are you doing?"
"Cooking."
"You don't cook."
"I do today, boss."
The kitchen quickly filled with the smell of garlic and tomato sauce.
My father told embarrassing stories about my childhood.
My mother corrected him.
Isabella teased Adriano about his terrible singing voice.
And I laughed so hard that my stomach hurt.
For one beautiful evening, the past didn't feel like a prison.
It felt like something we might eventually survive.
Later, I found Adriano on the terrace.
He had loosened his tie and rolled up his shirt sleeves.
The city lights stretched beyond the gardens.
"You're hiding," I said.
"Observing."
"From a safe distance?"
"Exactly."
I stepped beside him.
"Your mother seems wonderful."
"She is."
He looked toward the dining room.
"I'd forgotten what it sounded like when she laughed."
My heart tightened.
"You have time to hear it again."
He turned toward me.
"Eliza, I owe you something."
"If this is another envelope full of money, I'm throwing it into your swimming pool."
He laughed.
"No."
His expression grew serious.
"I owe you an apology."
"For what?"
"The first night we met, I requested you upstairs because I recognized your name. I knew your mother might be connected to my father's death."
"I know that now."
"But I didn't tell you everything."
"You told me enough to terrify me."
"I thought I was controlling the situation."
"Did it work?"
"Not remotely."
I smiled.
He stepped closer.
"I've spent most of my adult life believing I could protect people by keeping them at a distance."
"And now?"
"Now I find myself terrified whenever you're not in the same room."
My breath caught.
"Adriano..."
He raised his hand.
Slowly.
Giving me every opportunity to move away.
I didn't.
His fingertips brushed my cheek.
"May I kiss you?"
For a moment, I forgot everything.
The Harringtons.
The missing records.
Seventeen years of grief.
"Yes," I whispered.
His lips touched mine.
It wasn't the kind of kiss I'd imagined a man like Adriano Costello would give.
It was gentle.
Almost hesitant.
As though he were afraid that something beautiful might disappear if he held it too tightly.
I placed one hand against his chest.
He drew me closer.
And beneath the quiet October sky, I kissed the man everyone else was afraid to approach.
The next morning, everything fell apart.
At eight forty-five, Reynolds arrived with a new set of financial records.
One of Adriano's companies had transferred a large payment to a Blackthorn-associated account three years earlier.
The transaction carried Adriano's digital authorization.
I stared at the document.
"What's this?"
Adriano examined it.
"I didn't approve this."
Reynolds looked troubled.
"The credentials were yours."
"Then somebody used them."
My father stepped closer.
"The payment coincides with the disappearance of one of our former witnesses."
I felt cold.
"Are you saying Adriano financed Blackthorn?"
"We're saying the evidence creates a question that must be answered," Reynolds replied.
I looked at Adriano.
"Did you know Lorenzo was still doing business with them?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
His eyes met mine.
"Eliza."
"Please. Just tell me the truth."
"I am."
Before I could respond, a video appeared on my phone.
An anonymous sender.
It showed Adriano entering a private meeting room with Lorenzo and Conrad Harrington.
The footage was dated three years earlier.
I looked up.
"Why were you meeting them?"
Adriano's expression darkened.
"A property acquisition."
"Connected to Blackthorn?"
"I didn't know that at the time."
My father's face turned pale.
I desperately wanted to believe Adriano.
But every secret we'd uncovered had begun with someone telling us there was nothing to worry about.
I stepped backward.
"I need some time."
His face changed.
"Eliza."
"Please."
For once, he let me walk away.
That evening, Vanessa Harrington sat across from Lorenzo Vale inside a private restaurant.
She placed her phone on the table.
"She saw the video."
Lorenzo smiled.
"And?"
"She left him."
"Good."
Vanessa took a sip of wine.
"Now what?"
Lorenzo opened a folder.
Inside was a photograph of Adriano and me kissing on the terrace.
May you like
He tapped it once.
"Now we make sure the girl never trusts him again."
