THE NAME HE WOULDN'T HIDE BEHIND

Matteo requested a meeting before the week was out.

The message came through Patrick. He wanted to see his son without attorneys, employees, or what the lawyer chose not to repeat.

"You can say it," I told him.

Patrick adjusted his glasses.

"He made a reference to your relationship with Nico. It isn't worth your time."

Nico looked at me.

"I'm not meeting him alone. But you don't have to come because you think you should."

Wes had an appointment that morning. Ordinary life continued making demands even when the men of the Alfieri family decided to come apart.

"I'd like to come afterward. I can wait in the next room if you'd prefer."

"I'd prefer you somewhere you can hear what he says. I'm tired of competing versions."

At the hospital, Wes asked whether the assessment meant he was having surgery the next day. I explained that the team needed to finish planning, that we'd ask our questions, and that I'd be there with him.

"Are you going to cry?"

"Maybe a little."

He regarded me with the tolerance of someone well acquainted with my weaknesses.

"You can do it after I'm asleep. Before makes me nervous."

I kissed his hair.

"Deal."

The surgery acquired a date, this time accompanied by organized tests, paperwork moving forward, and people who returned my calls. I left holding a folder that contained something I could finally act on instead of another bill I couldn't pay.

When I reached the conference room at Patrick's office, Nico was already at the table. Rafael stood near the door. Matteo had arrived, immaculate in a gray suit.

His gaze traveled over my plain coat, lingered on the hospital folder, then returned to his son.

"At least someone's benefiting from your sentimentality."

I stopped beside Nico.

"The appointment went well," I told him. "They explained everything. I'll tell you properly afterward."

He took my hand beneath the edge of the table.

Being ignored seemed to irritate Matteo more than an answer would have.

Patrick opened the meeting by making clear that no documents would be signed without review, and no statements or evidence would be withheld in exchange for promises.

"I came to speak to my son," Matteo said.

"Then speak to me," Nico answered.

His father began with the businesses. Stability, employees, old commitments. Certain operations would be damaged. Outsiders wouldn't understand how the family worked.

Nico listened. His hand became very still in mine.

"Have you reviewed the reports?" Matteo asked.

"Yes. I've also seen documents you kept from me."

"You signed some of them."

"I know. So does Patrick. I'll answer for what I'm responsible for."

His father leaned back. For the first time since I'd met him, he seemed not to have a reply ready.

"You intend to hand a lifetime's work over to strangers?"

"You interfered with my medication. You stopped my sister from speaking to me. People are prepared to explain what happened before my crash. If you want to dispute any of it, talk to the investigators. I'm not here to negotiate silence."

Matteo looked at Patrick, then Rafael. The security chief didn't move.

"I held this family together while you couldn't get out of bed."

Nico released my hand and rested both of his against the sides of his chair.

"You used that time to decide who I could see and what I could know. Needing help didn't give you that right."

His father leaned forward.

"Do you think she'd be here if you didn't have money?"

I felt the old urge to provide proof that I wasn't an opportunist. I swallowed the explanation before offering it.

Nico didn't glance at me to check my reaction.

"If she chooses to leave, she can leave. You still won't be welcome in my home."

Matteo struck the table with his palm.

"You got somewhere because of me. Without that name, you'd have nothing."

Nico let the silence pass.

"Being your son gave me advantages. I also spent too long pretending I didn't need to ask where they came from. Protecting you now won't make that right."

Patrick ended the meeting when Matteo began threatening employees who had agreed to give statements. The attorney documented the words along with everything else. Rafael opened the door.

Matteo stood.

"You'll still need me."

Nico took hold of his wheel, preparing to leave.

"I need plenty of people. You aren't one of them."

We left together. Only in the elevator did I realize I'd held my breath through the last part of the conversation.

Nico watched the floor numbers.

"I wanted him to say he didn't do it," he murmured.

My heart hurt.

"I know."

"Even after everything. Some stupid part of me still wanted to hear it."

I put a hand on his shoulder.

"You can wish you had a different father and still stop letting this one hurt you."

He covered my hand with his. He didn't speak again until we reached the ground floor.

"Tell me about Wes's appointment."

I told him in the car. About the tests, the date, the surgeon crouching down to answer my brother's questions directly. Nico listened to every detail.

Over the following weeks, events moved more slowly than I wanted and more steadily than I'd feared. The medical records were preserved. Matteo's access was revoked. The care provider who'd administered medication outside the proper instructions was suspended while questions were answered. Bell had to explain the alterations and omissions under his responsibility.

Camille surrendered her messages and confirmed what she'd witnessed. That didn't erase her participation. Her statement, the footage from the party, and the witnesses also ended any attempt to claim Nico had invented the assault.

Matteo lost control of the companies where the documents allowed immediate action. Others involved disputes and reviews. Patrick explained what had been settled and what would take time.

When Matteo's arrest was confirmed, Nico took the call at the kitchen table. I was cutting apples to take to the hospital.

He listened to Patrick, asked two questions, and thanked him.

Then he sat holding his phone.

I put down the knife and went to him. He leaned his forehead against me, just below my ribs. I ran my fingers through his hair and stayed.

No victory gave me the right to ask him to smile then.

Later, when the light had changed, he looked up.

"I need to ask you again."

"Ask me what?"

"Dinner. No attorney, medical examination, or sworn statement before dessert. Would you still say yes?"

I bent and kissed his forehead.

"Yes. But today you're helping me finish these apples."

He pulled the cutting board to a comfortable height and held out his hand.

"Give me the knife."