Chapter 10 - THE MAN I CHOSE WITHOUT A CONTRACT
"Yes."
The answer escaped before I could overthink it.
Vincent blinked.
"Yes?"
I smiled.
"Would you prefer I consult my mother first?"
He laughed.
It was the same deep, genuine laugh I'd heard beneath the banquet table.
And suddenly, after days of grief, anger, and discoveries, I felt something wonderful.
Relief.
"Yes," I repeated. "I would choose you."
Vincent stepped closer.
"But not because you're Vincent Marino."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Should I be offended?"
"Probably."
I touched his hand.
"I'd choose the man who shared his sandwich with a stranger. The man who admitted he was lonely. The man who didn't turn away when he discovered the truth about his family."
His expression softened.
"Evelyn..."
"But there's something else."
He waited.
"I won't marry you because our mothers want it. And I won't spend my life pretending your past doesn't exist."
His smile faded slightly.
"I wouldn't ask you to."
"Good."
I took a breath.
"Because if we're going to build something together, I need to know that the man standing beside me will keep choosing honesty even when it costs him."
Vincent looked toward the old warehouse.
Then back at me.
"That's exactly what I'm afraid of."
"What?"
"That doing the right thing might cost me more than I can afford."
I shook my head.
"Then maybe you need to decide what you can afford to lose."
He was quiet for a long time.
Finally, he nodded.
"You're right."
Over the following week, everything changed.
News of Dominic's removal spread through the city.
The Pier Nine redevelopment was suspended.
A formal review of the Safe Harbor Fund began.
Several former employees came forward with records they had kept for years.
Some spoke about intimidation.
Others described wages withheld and donations redirected.
For Vincent, every day brought another uncomfortable discovery about the empire he'd inherited.
One evening, he arrived at my office looking exhausted.
His tie was loosened.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes.
I was reviewing plans for a community kitchen inside the warehouse.
"Rough day?" I asked.
He dropped into a chair.
"I spent six hours listening to people explain how my company hurt them."
I put down my pencil.
"Did you listen?"
"Every word."
"Then it wasn't a wasted day."
He gave me a tired smile.
"You have an irritating way of making things sound simple."
"They aren't simple."
I sat across from him.
"But they're worth doing."
Vincent looked at the plans.
"What is that?"
"The original dining room your father and mine wanted."
He leaned forward.
The drawing showed a spacious kitchen, large wooden tables, a small library, and rooms for job training.
"You kept the original layout."
"Mostly."
I pointed toward one wall.
"I added a community legal-aid office and an independent financial counseling center."
Vincent studied the drawing.
"My father would have loved this."
"So would mine."
He took my hand.
For several minutes, we simply sat there.
It was the first peaceful moment we'd shared since the truth came out.
Then Vincent spoke.
"There's something I need to tell you."
I looked up.
His expression was serious.
"I reviewed every company order I signed after Dad's death."
My chest tightened.
"And?"
"There were things I should have questioned."
"Like the disposal order?"
He nodded.
"And worse."
I didn't interrupt.
"When I was twenty-six, Dominic told me a former employee was spreading dangerous rumors about the family."
"What did you do?"
"I sent two men to pressure him into withdrawing his complaint."
My stomach sank.
"Did they hurt him?"
"Not physically, according to the records I have. But they threatened his job and frightened his family."
I stared at Vincent.
He looked ashamed.
"I told myself I was protecting the business."
"Did you know his complaint was true?"
"I didn't investigate."
I leaned back.
That answer hurt.
Because it was the same excuse our mothers had used.
They hadn't wanted to know.
I looked at him.
"Vincent, you can't repair your father's legacy while hiding what you did under your uncle's influence."
"I know."
"Then what are you going to do?"
"Tell the investigators."
I swallowed.
"Everything?"
"Everything I can remember, and every record I can provide."
He looked at me.
"Some of it may lead to charges against me."
The room became very quiet.
I had known his world was dangerous.
I had known he wasn't an innocent man.
But hearing him accept responsibility made the future suddenly uncertain.
"What happens to us?" I asked.
Vincent looked at my hand resting beside his.
"I don't know."
My eyes burned.
He reached for me.
"I want a future with you, Evelyn. More than I've wanted anything in years."
"Then fight for it."
He nodded.
"I will."
The next morning, Sofia visited my office.
She brought a small bundle of photographs showing our fathers working together at Pier Nine.
"I thought you might want these for the restoration," she said.
I thanked her.
Then she hesitated.
"Vincent told me he's giving a full statement tomorrow."
My stomach tightened.
"He did."
Sofia lowered her eyes.
"I asked him not to."
I stared at her.
"Why?"
"Because I'm afraid of losing my son."
I understood that fear.
But I remembered the photograph at eleven-oh-six.
The watch.
The years of silence.
"What did he say?"
Sofia smiled sadly.
"He said he loved me, but he wasn't going to spend another fifteen years hiding from the truth."
My eyes filled.
That evening, Vincent came to my apartment carrying two chicken sandwiches.
He placed them on the kitchen counter.
"I thought we could have dinner."
I smiled.
"At an actual table?"
He looked around.
"That depends. Are there any dangerous mothers nearby?"
I laughed.
Then he took my hands.
"Evelyn, tomorrow morning I'm giving my statement."
I nodded.
"I know."
He swallowed.
"There's something I want you to understand before I go."
"What?"
May you like
He looked directly at me.
"If telling the truth costs me my freedom, I don't want you to spend your life waiting because you think you owe me something."
