Chapter 6 - WHAT THEY CHOSE FOR US
Giovanni did not hit his uncle.
For years afterward, that mattered to me.
Because the Giovanni I had left might have.
The Giovanni standing beside me simply stared at Salvatore until the old man's face began to crumble under the weight of his own decision.
“You watched me marry another woman knowing Sophia might be carrying my child.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To keep the peace.”
Giovanni laughed bitterly.
“My daughter was the price?”
“No.”
“She was hidden from me.”
“She was alive.”
Salvatore slammed his palm against the table.
“You think I enjoyed it? You think I slept well?”
“I don't care how you slept.”
“I buried two nephews during that war.”
The room changed.
Salvatore's anger was no longer defensive.
It was grief.
“My youngest son was twenty-six,” he said. “Twenty-six. He had a baby at home and a wife who still sets a place for him on Christmas Eve.”
Giovanni went quiet.
Salvatore's hands shook.
“I saw you willing to burn everything for Sophia. I saw the Bellinis willing to burn everything to stop you. When she walked away, I believed God had handed us an exit.”
“You mean you used her fear.”
“Yes.”
At least he admitted it.
“Did Teresa know about the pregnancy?”
Salvatore looked toward the crocus inside the watch.
“She knew there was a possibility.”
“And she agreed?”
“She cried for three hours.”
“That is not an answer.”
“Yes.”
Giovanni sat again.
Something in him seemed to collapse.
I should have felt vindicated.
Instead I felt hollow.
People I had feared had protected me.
People who had protected me had manipulated me.
There was no clean villain.
Only choices made by frightened adults who believed their fear gave them authority over everyone else.
I picked up the watch.
“Who forged the divorce?”
Salvatore's expression hardened again.
“I told you. I don't know.”
“But you suspected.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“The Bellinis had the most to gain.”
Giovanni looked up.
“Isabella?”
“No.”
Salvatore's answer was immediate.
“Isabella was trapped too.”
That was another reversal.
I had spent years hating a woman I had never met.
“What happened to her?”
“She divorced Giovanni after four months.”
“I know that.”
“She refused every settlement.”
Giovanni looked at me.
“She never wanted the marriage.”
Salvatore gave a bitter smile.
“None of you wanted anything that happened.”
Silence filled the old restaurant.
Then Giovanni's phone began vibrating on the table.
He ignored it.
It stopped.
Started again.
Celeste's name appeared.
Giovanni answered.
“What?”
He listened.
His face changed.
“When?”
Another pause.
“We're coming.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Photographers are outside the bakery.”
My stomach dropped.
“Why?”
“Someone recognized me.”
Of course they had.
Giovanni Reachi did not sit unnoticed in private rooms forever.
“What did they see?”
“Us.”
My throat tightened.
“Lucia?”
His silence answered.
I stood.
“We have to go.”
The sidewalk outside Pasticceria Victoria was chaos by the time we returned.
Not dozens of cameras.
Four.
That was enough.
One photographer called Giovanni's name.
Another called mine.
Then someone shouted:
“Who's the little girl?”
I stopped moving.
Giovanni immediately stepped between me and the cameras.
“Do not photograph the child.”
His voice was quiet.
Nobody misunderstood it.
Marco had Lucia and Emilia in the back office.
Celeste stood near the entrance.
She looked furious.
Not at me.
At Giovanni.
“This is what I was afraid of.”
“I didn't arrange photographers.”
“You brought your entire history into a bakery.”
“My history was already here.”
Celeste glanced toward me.
“That isn't what I meant.”
I believed her.
Barely.
Inside, Lucia ran to me.
“Mama, those men are being loud.”
“I know.”
“Did I do something?”
My heart broke.
“No, baby. Never.”
I knelt.
“Mrs. Patel is going to take you home.”
“Are you coming?”
“In a little while.”
She frowned.
“Why?”
“Grown-up things.”
“I don't like grown-up things.”
“Neither do I.”
That made her smile.
Mrs. Patel took both girls temporarily while Celeste and Giovanni handled the attention outside.
Before leaving, Lucia waved to Giovanni.
He looked stunned.
Then he raised his hand.
A small wave.
Nothing more.
Once the children were gone, Celeste shut the bakery office door.
“We need to talk.”
Giovanni looked exhausted.
“Not now.”
“Yes. Now.”
Something in her tone stopped him.
She removed her engagement ring.
My stomach tightened.
“Celeste.”
She placed it on the desk.
“I knew this would happen someday.”
Giovanni stared at her.
“You knew Sophia would come back?”
“No.”
Celeste looked at me.
“But I knew you never stopped waiting.”
I wanted to leave.
She shook her head.
“You need to hear this too.”
“I really don't.”
“Yes.”
Her voice cracked for the first time.
“Because I have spent two years pretending I did something noble when part of it was selfish.”
Giovanni went still.
“What did you do?”
Celeste looked at him.
Then me.
“I found her.”
Nobody spoke.
“Who?”
Giovanni's voice had gone frighteningly quiet.
“Sophia.”
My skin turned cold.
Celeste swallowed.
“Two years ago.”
Giovanni stared at her as if she had become a stranger.
“You knew where she was?”
“I knew where she went to school. I knew where she worked before this bakery.”
“And Lucia?”
Celeste closed her eyes.
“I saw her.”
Giovanni turned away.
The pain in his face was terrible.
I whispered, “You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“You saw my daughter and said nothing?”
Celeste looked directly at me.
“Yes.”
I stepped backward.
Another person.
Another decision made on my behalf.
“Why?”
Tears filled Celeste's eyes, but her voice remained steady.
“Because when I found you, Emilia had just lost her mother, Giovanni had just adopted her, and for the first time in months that little girl was sleeping through the night.”
“That wasn't your choice.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Celeste picked up the engagement ring.
She looked at Giovanni.
Then at me.
May you like
And said:
“Because I was afraid that if Giovanni found you, he would choose you.”
