He Chose My Copy I Became The Law Chapter 15
The next time I opened my eyes, I found myself in a luxurious velvet bed at the Porto Aurelia estate.
Beyond the window stood the familiar olive grove, while morning sunlight slowly climbed the walls.
Cesare occupied the worn leather chair beside my bed. He appeared not to have slept at all, and the shadows beneath his eyes had turned an unhealthy, bruised gray.
“You’re awake?” An unfamiliar quiver entered his voice. “You obstinate girl… You gamble with your life exactly as your father did.”
I tried to speak, but my throat burned so badly that no sound emerged.
“Don’t try to talk.” He bent closer and drew the blanket securely around me. “The bullet only skimmed your collarbone. The doctor called you fortunate. You survived by a miracle.”
For a moment, he said nothing.
“The treaty was delivered. By the following morning, the Commission had approved it with a unanimous vote. The northern smuggling routes will remain secure for another decade.”
From the inside pocket of his suit, he withdrew a slim box covered in dark green velvet and opened it with care.
A solid platinum lapel pin lay within.
Delicately crafted, the pin bore a miniature laurel framed by strands of platinum. It displayed the Rinaldi family crest and represented the highest insignia of the Porto Aurelia Commission’s Chief Consigliere.
Across a century of Family history, only five individuals had ever merited the privilege of wearing it.
Cesare lifted the pin from its box, leaned toward me, and secured it to the lapel of my silk robe.
“As of today,” he declared quietly, his tone unwavering, “you are Valentina Rinaldi, Chief Consigliere of the Porto Aurelia Commission.”
“Valentina, you have won this Family’s respect.”
Brilliant Mediterranean sunlight poured through the bedroom’s elaborate lace curtains, driving out the final remnants of bitter cold.
Only later did I learn that Adrian, whose territory lay nearer to Cinder Bay, had lost control on the day of the ambush and led his men in a frantic effort to reach me.
Commission forces stopped him, however, and promptly detained him before driving him away.
“He had no understanding of the rules,” Cesare remarked scornfully. “A Ravenport Capo has no authority to meddle in the Family’s highest affairs.”
The day my recovery was complete, a manila envelope arrived from Ravenport.
It held the divorce papers at last bearing Adrian’s signature, with a sticky note tucked beneath them at the very bottom.
Three words had been written on it with such force that the pen had nearly ripped the paper: I’m so sorry.
I plucked up the note, dropped it indifferently into the crystal ashtray beside me, lit a match, and touched the flame to it.
The paper slowly twisted in on itself, turning black before collapsing into ashes.
The past had become no more than a trace of ash for the wind to carry away.Â