Chapter 12 - Bruno Comes Home
The viral video changed everything.
News vans appeared outside my apartment.
Reporters called.
Strangers sent flowers.
A pet-rescue organization offered me an award.
I wanted none of it.
My mother loved the flowers.
“That one has chocolates.”
“Mom.”
“What? Trauma doesn’t remove carbohydrates.”
For the first time in weeks, we laughed.
Then Bruno appeared on television.
Luca had agreed to a single interview.
No mansion tour.
No family drama.
Just Bruno.
He sat beside Luca in the study wearing a blue collar.
The reporter asked why he released the kennel footage.
“I didn’t.”
Investigators had.
“What do you want people to understand?”
Luca looked at Bruno.
“That cruelty doesn’t become insignificant because the victim is vulnerable.”
The reporter asked about me.
My stomach tightened.
Luca paused.
“Emma Collins was an employee placed in an impossible position.”
“Was she involved in ending your engagement?”
“No.”
“Did you have a relationship with her?”
“Yes.”
I nearly dropped the remote.
Then Luca continued:
“Employer and employee.”
My mother laughed.
I glared.
“She protected a member of my family when doing so risked her job.”
The reporter looked at Bruno.
“You consider Bruno family?”
“Absolutely.”
“What do you consider Emma?”
Luca looked directly toward the camera.
“The reason he’s alive.”
The clip went viral faster than the first.
But something strange happened.
The comments stopped focusing on scandal.
They focused on Bruno.
People posted photographs of senior dogs.
Shelters reported increased adoptions.
One hashtag spread:
#ElevenMinutes
Because that was how close Bruno had come.
Eleven minutes.
People used it to encourage others to intervene when something felt wrong.
“Eleven minutes can change everything.”
It became a phrase.
Then a campaign.
I returned to the Moretti estate on a Tuesday.
Not to work.
To visit Bruno.
At least that was what I told myself.
He met me in the foyer.
Tail wagging.
I knelt.
“You got famous.”
Bruno licked my chin.
“Traitor.”
Luca stood at the end of the hallway.
“Welcome home.”
The words hit too deeply.
I stood.
“I’m not moving in.”
“I meant Bruno’s home.”
“Oh.”
He smiled.
I hated how relieved I was.
We walked to the garden.
For once there were no investigators.
No lawyers.
No cameras.
Just October wind.
Bruno moved slowly between us.
“I resigned,” I said.
Luca looked at me.
“I know.”
“Mrs. Carter processed it.”
“I know.”
“I can’t come back as staff.”
“I know.”
Silence.
“Are you going to say anything else?”
“I was waiting.”
“For?”
“What you want.”
Nobody had asked me that in weeks.
I sat on a bench.
“I want my mother safe.”
“She is.”
“I want Vanessa to stop using my name.”
“Her attorney has advised her to stop making public statements.”
“Good.”
“I want a job.”
“You have one here whenever you want.”
“I just said—”
“Not as household staff.”
I stared.
Luca explained.
The Moretti Foundation was funding a new program for employees caring for sick family members.
Emergency grants.
Medical navigation.
Legal assistance when employers retaliated.
“You built that because of me?”
“Because the existing system failed you.”
“It existed.”
“Not well enough.”
He offered me a role helping design it.
I laughed.
“I dropped bread at your engagement dinner.”
“You also identified flaws my executives missed.”
“By getting injured?”
“Unconventional consulting.”
I smiled despite myself.
“What would I be?”
“Program coordinator.”
“I have no experience.”
“You have eleven months managing a house full of impossible personalities.”
“That’s fair.”
“Think about it.”
I did.
For three days.
Then accepted.
My new office was in the foundation building downtown.
Not the estate.
My salary nearly doubled.
My mother cried when she saw the benefits.
Bruno came to the office twice a week.
Official title:
Senior Morale Consultant.
The case continued.
Peter pleaded guilty to several charges.
Victor fought everything.
Richard’s financial empire collapsed.
Vanessa negotiated a cooperation agreement.
She would still face consequences for forgery, theft and animal-related offenses, but her testimony helped expose the larger scheme.
Months passed.
Luca and I became friends.
Real friends.
Coffee.
Arguments.
Late foundation meetings.
Bruno naps.
Nothing more.
Not because there was nothing between us.
Because both of us knew timing mattered.
One evening after a fundraiser, Luca drove me home.
At my building he said:
“Emma.”
“Yes?”
“When all this is over…”
He stopped.
“What?”
He looked almost nervous.
Luca Moretti.
Nervous.
“Never mind.”
I smiled.
“Coward.”
He stared.
Then laughed.
“I’ll remember that.”
I opened the door.
Before stepping out, I looked back.
“When all this is over, ask.”
His smile disappeared.
Something warmer replaced it.
“I will.”
I closed the car door.
Upstairs, my mother was waiting at the window.
The second I entered she said:
“He likes you.”
“Please stop.”
“I survived Richard Vale. You cannot intimidate me.”
May you like
And for the first time, thinking about Luca did not frighten me.
It felt like the beginning of something.
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