Chapter 9 - The Real Reason the Gala Was Held on June Eighteenth

We returned to the estate at 1:14 a.m.

The ballroom was almost empty.

The cake was still there.

June 18.

The date Alexander had celebrated for thirty-three years.

Elena stopped beside it.

“So this was mine.”

Alexander looked at her.

“Apparently.”

She smiled faintly.

“I hate chocolate cake.”

Mrs. Bell laughed.

Alexander stared at her.

“You told me she asked whether I still liked chocolate cake.”

Mrs. Bell wiped her eyes.

“She did.”

Elena shrugged.

“Mother told me you liked it.”

Alexander laughed.

For the first time that night, it sounded real.

Henry placed the signed trust documents on the table.

“The emergency amendment is void.”

Elena looked at him.

“And the controlling rights?”

“Yours.”

Alexander watched her carefully.

She looked uncomfortable.

“I don’t want his chair.”

“You don’t have to sit in it.”

“I don’t want his money either.”

Alexander shook his head.

“It was never his.”

She looked at him.

“What do you want?”

The ballroom became quiet.

Alexander looked at the portraits of Russo men covering the walls.

Grandfathers.

Uncles.

Fathers.

Every face pretending history belonged only to them.

Then he looked at his sister.

“I want the records corrected.”

Henry nodded.

“That can be done.”

“I want Sofia’s marriage restored in the family archive.”

Sofia began crying.

“And Elena listed as Dominic’s first child.”

Henry nodded again.

Alexander continued.

“I want every company Gabriel identified audited.”

Gabriel lowered his eyes.

“And every employee harmed by Leo’s transfers repaid before any of us take another dollar.”

Elena stared at him.

Then she smiled.

“That sounds like a chair you might deserve.”

Alexander shook his head.

“No.”

He pushed the trust folder toward her.

“First child.”

She pushed it back halfway.

“Second child.”

They looked at each other.

Mrs. Bell whispered:

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

Everyone laughed.

Even Sofia.

Victoria did not.

She stood alone near the ballroom entrance.

Still wearing dark crimson.

Alexander saw her.

The laughter faded.

He walked toward her.

Victoria removed her engagement ring.

“I should have told you.”

“Yes.”

“I thought I was protecting your mother.”

“You were.”

She looked hopeful.

Alexander continued.

“And you were protecting yourself from what telling me might cost.”

Her eyes lowered.

“Yes.”

He appreciated that answer more than another excuse.

Victoria held out the ring.

He looked at it.

Then at her.

“I don’t know what happens to us.”

She nodded.

“I understand.”

“I still love you.”

Her eyes filled.

“That makes it worse.”

“Yes.”

He took the ring.

But he did not put it in his pocket.

He placed it on the table between them.

“Not tonight.”

Victoria nodded.

“Not tonight.”

Sofia approached.

She looked at Victoria.

“You kept Elena alive when Leo’s people found our New York address.”

Alexander turned.

Victoria looked startled.

Sofia continued.

“Your father moved us. You paid for the new apartment.”

Victoria said quietly:

“I didn’t do enough.”

“No.”

Sofia answered.

“But you did something.”

Alexander looked at Victoria again.

The truth did not erase the lie.

The lie did not erase everything good.

Both could exist.

That was harder than anger.

Mrs. Bell walked to the cake.

She pulled off the plaque with Alexander’s name.

Then she handed the knife to Elena.

“This one belongs to you.”

Elena looked at Alexander.

“Half?”

He smiled.

“Half.”

They cut the first piece together.

Then Sofia said:

“There is one more thing.”

Everyone stopped.

Alexander sighed.

“Of course there is.”

Sofia smiled through tears.

“Your real birthday is in three days.”

He looked at the ruined decorations.

“No gala.”

Elena raised her hand.

“Agreed.”

Mrs. Bell smiled.

“Small dinner.”

Alexander looked at his mother.

His sister.

The nanny who remembered.

The woman he might still marry.

The cousin who had finally told the truth.

Then he nodded.

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“Small dinner.”

For the first time in thirty-three years, June 21 was waiting for him.