The Wedding Was Supposed to Be a Funeral
Chapter 10 - The Wedding Was Supposed to Be a Funeral
Vanessa agreed to speak only with prosecutors present.
I did not want to go.
Miriam said I did not have to.
That sentence made me go.
Choice matters most after you have spent too long without it.
Vanessa sat behind glass in a county interview room.
No red satin.
No ruby earrings.
Gray uniform.
Hair tied back.
Without wealth arranged around her, she looked like a woman in her early thirties who had made a series of terrible decisions.
That was all.
No monster.
No queen.
Just a person.
“I found out the baby wasn’t biological three weeks before the engagement,” she said.
“How?” Miriam asked.
“Adrian had Michael’s fertility records.”
“Why continue?”
Vanessa looked at me.
“I asked him the same thing.”
Adrian told her the baby was still useful.
If Anna and Michael vanished, Luca could be pressured to recognize the child.
Not for inheritance.
For emotion.
A grieving man.
A baby presented as his brother’s son.
A future.
A weakness.
Vanessa would become mother to the child.
Luca would become attached.
Then, after the wedding, Adrian planned to kill Luca.
The spouse would receive temporary management powers over ordinary marital assets.
Not the trust.
But enough companies and voting proxies could be manipulated during probate to create chaos.
While Vanessa fought in court, Adrian would strip the businesses from underneath everyone.
“You knew he planned to kill Luca?” I asked.
Vanessa looked at the table.
“Yes.”
Luca sat beside Miriam.
He did not move.
“You were still going to marry me.”
“Yes.”
“And cut the cake.”
“Yes.”
I looked at the cake in my memory.
The silver knife.
The porcelain bride.
Twenty-eight guests applauding.
A celebration designed to become the last clean photograph of Luca alive.
“What was supposed to happen?” Miriam asked.
Vanessa’s voice became smaller.
“Not that night.”
“When?”
“Honeymoon.”
Lake Como.
Private villa.
Medication in Luca’s whiskey.
A boating accident afterward.
The elegance of the plan made me sick.
Luca asked only one question.
“Why?”
Vanessa looked at him.
At first, I thought she would say money.
Or fear.
Or Adrian.
Instead:
“Because I hated that you never needed me.”
Luca’s expression changed.
Vanessa continued.
“You wanted me. That is not the same thing.”
She laughed once.
“I built my whole life around being indispensable to men who considered women decorative.”
Pain.
Again.
Real.
Still not innocence.
She looked at me.
“And then a maid says no to me once, and you listen.”
I said nothing.
Vanessa’s eyes filled.
“I hated you before I even knew your name.”
There was nothing satisfying about hearing it.
Only sadness.
Miriam asked Vanessa to testify against Adrian.
She agreed.
Not from redemption.
From revenge.
People rarely change for pure reasons.
Courts use what they get.
The federal case expanded.
Adrian’s escape with Hennessy created enough evidence to expose compromised officers.
The Bellini ledgers exposed laundering.
Victor’s records exposed Moretti operations.
Luca provided his own books.
Every one.
Daniel asked him twice if he was sure.
Luca said yes.
The third time Daniel did not ask.
One evening, Luca came to Emily’s apartment carrying two grocery bags.
“What is that?”
“Dinner.”
“You cook?”
“No.”
“Then that is ingredients.”
He looked inside the bags.
“That explains the problem.”
I laughed.
We made pasta.
Bad pasta.
Luca cut onions too large.
I corrected him.
He ignored me.
I corrected him again.
He surrendered.
It was the first peaceful hour we had spent together.
That frightened me more than gunfire.
Danger makes feelings easy.
Ordinary rooms make them honest.
After dinner, we stood by the sink.
Luca looked at my hand.
The burn had healed into a pale pink patch.
He touched the edge of my wrist.
Not the scar.
“Does it hurt?”
“Sometimes.”
“I should have seen what she was.”
“You are not responsible for what Vanessa did to me.”
“I brought her into the house.”
“And I stayed because I needed a paycheck.”
He looked at me.
“We can both stop trying to turn the past into one person’s fault.”
He smiled faintly.
“Your father would like that.”
“You didn’t know him.”
“No.”
“But I’m starting to understand his daughter.”
My heart shifted.
I hated how easily that happened now.
“Luca.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
He waited.
“You’re about to go to prison.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not becoming the woman who spends seven years emotionally suspended because a dangerous man looked sad in a kitchen.”
His mouth almost smiled.
“That was specific.”
“I have standards.”
“So did your father.”
I pointed the dish towel at him.
“Do not use my dead father to flirt.”
He laughed.
Then became serious.
“I don’t want you to wait.”
“Good.”
“I do want to kiss you.”
Silence.
The honesty was almost rude.
“Can I?”
I should have said no.
Maybe.
Instead I said, “Once.”
Luca kissed me.
Slow.
No grabbing.
No ownership.
One hand rested on the counter, the other at his side.
He let me choose the distance.
That mattered more than the kiss.
When it ended, neither spoke.
Then Emily entered with two classmates.
She stopped.
Looked at Luca.
Looked at me.
“Oh.”
I covered my face.
Luca, criminal mastermind, looked embarrassed.
It was satisfying.
The next morning, Miriam called.
Adrian had requested a plea meeting.
He would give up every remaining account, officer, judge, and shell company.
In exchange, he wanted one thing removed from public evidence.
A sealed adoption record from 1979.
Luca frowned.
“Whose?”
Miriam looked at him.
“Yours.”
He went completely still.
May you like
Victor Moretti was not Luca’s biological father.
And suddenly the blood-heir trust everyone had fought over had one last joke left to tell.
