Chapter 6 - The Confrontation
On the fifteenth night, a blizzard knocked out the power in the county. Elena was sitting by her fireplace, wrapped in a blanket, reading a book by candlelight.
A heavy knock sounded at the door.
She didn’t need to ask who it was. She opened it. Lorenzo stood on her porch, covered in snow, looking entirely out of place in the rustic wilderness.
“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice rough.
Elena hesitated, then stepped aside. He walked into the small living room, taking up all the space. He didn’t comment on the modest furniture or the peeling paint. He just looked at her.
“You found me,” she said flatly.
“Marco found a tax record.” He pulled a thick manila folder from his coat and placed it on her small coffee table. “I’m not here to force you back. I just needed you to have this.”
Elena glanced at the folder. “What is it?”
“Proof.” Lorenzo swallowed hard. “Celeste’s accounts are seized. Vanessa is working the night shift at a tollbooth outside Peoria because nobody in Chicago will hire her. They are gone, Elena. I tore out the rot I should have destroyed the day I met you.”
Elena looked at the files, then back at him. Her chest ached, but her spine remained steel. “You think ruining them fixes what you broke in me? You stood in that room, Lorenzo. You looked at me, humiliated in front of your staff, and you told me not to make a scene.”
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“I was a coward,” he said, the admission tearing from his throat. The ruthless mafia boss, dropping to his knees on her worn rug. He looked up at her, tears pooling in his dark eyes. “I was so used to managing monsters that I forgot how to protect an angel. I am sorry. I will spend the rest of my life being sorry.”
Elena looked down at him. She wanted to pull him up. She wanted to forgive him. But healing wasn't a switch you could flip just because the bleeding stopped. “Go back to Chicago, Lorenzo.”
