The Question Roman Could Not Buy an Answer To

Chapter 15 - The Question Roman Could Not Buy an Answer To

Roman proposed in Marlow’s office.

Naen hated him for the location.

“It smells like printer toner.”

“I panicked.”

“You planned this.”

“For eight months.”

“That makes it worse.”

He laughed.

They had been together seven years.

Living together five.

Leo was fifteen.

No urgency.

No rescue.

No pregnancy.

No business merger.

Just time.

Roman stood near Naen’s desk.

No suit.

No restaurant closed for privacy.

Sienna was yelling at a produce vendor in the kitchen.

Perfect.

He held a small ring box.

Closed.

Naen leaned back in her chair.

“Why marriage?”

Roman smiled.

“I rehearsed for that.”

“Good.”

“Because I love you.”

“Insufficient.”

“I know.”

“Continue.”

“Because I want the legal obligations.”

Naen laughed.

“Romantic.”

“Inheritance. medical decisions. shared home protections.”

“Better.”

“Because I want to be your husband.”

“Circular.”

He sighed.

“Because after seven years, I still want ordinary mornings.”

Her face softened.

Roman continued.

“I want Leo leaving cereal bowls in the sink when he comes home from college.”

“Assuming he gets into college.”

“He will.”

“Do not jinx.”

“Right.”

“I want to complain about your restaurant schedule.”

“You already do.”

“Legally.”

She laughed.

Then he became serious.

“I do not want marriage because I think it gives me more claim over you.”

Good.

“I want it because I want a public promise that still leaves your exits intact.”

There.

Naen’s chest tightened.

“And if I say no?”

“I’ll be devastated.”

Honest.

“And?”

“I’ll go home with you if you still want me there.”

Good.

“And if I don’t?”

Roman swallowed.

“I’ll leave.”

There.

No fantasy that nothing changes.

No threat either.

Naen looked at him.

At the man who once bled into her torn apron.

The man whose signature sat beneath the delay that helped kill Eli.

The man who went to prison.

The man who loved Leo without replacing him.

The man who still made control mistakes sometimes and now knew how to undo them.

People do not become safe forever.

They become accountable repeatedly.

That was the most she trusted.

“Open it.”

Roman did.

Simple emerald-cut diamond.

No Caruso heirloom.

New.

Naen stared.

“Too big.”

“I have return paperwork.”

She laughed.

“Of course.”

“Will you marry me?”

Naen made him wait.

Not cruelly.

Because yes should not be reflex.

She thought of Eli.

Not for permission.

For memory.

She loved him still in one room of herself.

That did not require emptiness everywhere else.

She thought of Leo.

Of Marlow.

Of the condo she bought before Roman.

The restaurant she owned without him.

The fact that if this marriage ended one day, she would still know how to stand.

“Yes.”

Roman closed his eyes.

“Really?”

“No, I enjoy watching billionaires suffer.”

“I’m not a billionaire.”

“Good. Character.”

He laughed.

Naen put on the ring.

Then removed it.

Roman’s face fell.

“Flour.”

She pointed to her hands.

He laughed again.

They told Leo that night.

He looked at the ring.

Then Roman.

“Finally.”

Naen stared.

“What?”

“You guys are slow.”

“You are fifteen.”

“Exactly. This has been most of my life.”

Roman looked at Naen.

“He’s right.”

“Do not encourage him.”

Leo said:

“Am I in the wedding?”

“If you want.”

“What job?”

Roman answered:

“Best man.”

Leo froze.

Naen looked at Roman.

He had not asked her.

But this was his choice to offer.

Leo’s choice to accept.

“Really?”

Roman nodded.

“If you want.”

Leo tried to look bored.

Failed.

“Okay.”

Then:

“Do I have to wear a tie?”

“Yes,” both adults said.

He groaned.

The prenup took three months.

Naen hired her own lawyer.

Paid her own fees.

Marlow remained hers.

Roman’s pre-marital assets remained his.

Their shared home had documented equity.

No clause requiring silence after divorce.

No morality clause.

No automatic role for Roman in Marlow.

Leo’s trust from Eli’s settlement remained separate.

Good.

The lawyers became tired of them.

Excellent.

One difficult conversation involved future support.

Roman had more money.

Much more.

If marriage ended after many years, should Naen waive spousal support?

Her lawyer said no blanket waiver.

Roman agreed.

Naen stared.

“You agree too quickly.”

“Because my money shouldn’t make leaving financially impossible.”

There.

The exact disease.

She softened.

They structured reasonable terms.

Not romantic.

Responsible.

Wedding planning stayed small.

Sixty-six guests.

Marlow catered part of it but not all because Naen refused to work at her own wedding.

Mrs. Alvarez demanded front row.

Sienna demanded better wine.

Claire came.

Helen came.

Rachel came.

David did not.

Enzo obviously did not.

No victims were invited as proof of reconciliation.

Workers from North River were not props.

Good.

Then a week before the wedding, Roman received a letter from Sebastian Voss in prison.

Before opening it, Roman asked whether Naen wanted to read it too.

“No.”

He nodded.

He read it alone.

That tiny exchange would have been invisible to anyone else.

Years earlier, Roman would have assumed information affecting him also belonged inside everyone close to him.

Now he understood intimacy did not erase privacy.

Later he summarized only what he wanted to share.

No performance.

No forced transparency.

Then he handed Naen the page because she asked.

One page.

I taught myself that stealing from you was not really stealing because your father stole first.

I taught myself stabbing you was not attempted murder because I only wanted the folder.

I taught myself every ugly thing had a cleaner name.

I heard you testified about North River.

Maybe we both finally ran out of cleaner names.

Roman read it.

No reply.

Naen asked:

“Do you forgive him?”

“No.”

“Do you understand him?”

“More.”

“Worse?”

“Yes.”

She nodded.

Understanding is not acquittal.

The wedding remained scheduled.

No final conspiracy emerged.

No hidden gunman.

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No secret sibling.

Life had done enough.