Chapter 49 - The Wedding Under the Winter Lights
Catherine Bell was eighty.
She claimed birthdays were administrative errors.
The family ignored her.
They planned a party.
Catherine discovered the plan and threatened everyone.
They proceeded anyway.
Then Rebecca made things worse.
She proposed.
Not romantically.
Legally.
“I want to change my name,” she told Catherine.
They sat beneath the greenhouse glass where the first mysterious package had arrived years earlier.
Catherine stared.
“To what?”
“Bell.”
“You already use Vale.”
“It was my husband’s name.”
Rebecca looked nervous.
“I want my father’s name back.”
Catherine’s eyes filled.
Samuel Bell.
Samuel Moretti Bell.
A man history had almost erased.
Catherine reached across the table.
“He would like that.”
Rebecca swallowed.
“And I want you there when I file it.”
Catherine began crying.
“So this is paperwork?”
Rebecca laughed through tears.
“Yes.”
“Thank God. I thought you were proposing marriage.”
They laughed until Clara heard them from the hallway.
By December, the estate was covered in snow.
Adrian and Claire’s baby was due in three weeks.
Leo and Maya were arguing affectionately about nursery colors for their own future plans.
Marcus had finally taken a vacation.
He returned after thirty-six hours claiming relaxation was suspicious.
Roman remained Roman.
But softer.
Sometimes.
Then Clara announced they were renewing their vows.
Roman stared.
“Why?”
“Because I want to.”
“We are still married.”
“I checked.”
“Then the original vows remain legally functional.”
Clara crossed her arms.
Roman surrendered.
The ballroom became the venue.
Again.
The place that had once held gunfire now held winter lights.
No press.
No politicians.
No empire.
Only family.
Sofia wore emerald green.
Antonio wore a tiny suit and immediately spilled juice on it.
Roman looked at his son.
“I paid too much for that.”
Antonio shrugged.
Clara laughed.
Catherine walked with Rebecca.
Adrian stood beside Roman.
“Never imagined this?”
Roman looked around.
“No.”
“Me neither.”
“You were hidden in Rhode Island.”
“Excellent point.”
Music began.
Clara entered.
Roman forgot every prepared sentence.
She wore a simple ivory dress.
Nothing extravagant.
She did not need it.
Roman had seen her soaked in harbor rain.
Covered in smoke.
Holding newborn children.
Standing between him and every version of himself he might have become.
Nothing had ever looked more beautiful.
She reached him.
“You’re staring.”
“Yes.”
“Planning a murder?”
“No.”
“That’s still growth.”
The officiant smiled.
They had written new vows.
Clara went first.
“Roman, when I met you, you told me I couldn’t leave.”
Laughter filled the room.
Roman looked embarrassed.
“You really had terrible communication skills.”
More laughter.
Clara continued.
“I thought love meant choosing someone once.”
She took his hands.
“I learned it means choosing them after fear, anger, mistakes, truth, children, sleepless nights, bad dancing, court hearings, and approximately four thousand security briefings.”
Marcus nodded solemnly.
“Accurate.”
Clara smiled.
“You gave me safety when you didn’t know how to feel safe yourself.”
Her eyes filled.
“And when power asked you to become the worst version of yourself, you kept choosing something harder.”
Roman whispered, “You.”
“No.”
She smiled.
“Us.”
Roman looked down.
When his turn came, he unfolded paper.
Then put it away.
Clara raised an eyebrow.
“You wrote something?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not reading it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“It sounded terrible.”
Everyone laughed.
Roman looked at her.
“I used to think promises were guarantees.”
The room quieted.
“They aren’t.”
He touched her wedding ring.
“I cannot promise nobody will hurt us.”
Clara’s eyes softened.
“I cannot promise I will never be afraid.”
His voice thickened.
“I cannot promise our children will never hate me for something I did before they were born.”
He glanced toward Sofia.
She shook her head dramatically.
Roman almost smiled.
“But I can promise something I finally understand.”
He looked back at Clara.
“I will tell the truth even when it costs me.”
He squeezed her hands.
“I will listen when fear makes me stupid.”
Marcus muttered, “Frequently.”
Roman ignored him.
“I will never confuse possession with love again.”
Clara’s eyes filled.
“And when life becomes frightening, I will not lock you behind me.”
He stepped closer.
“I will stand beside you.”
Clara whispered, “Rule number four.”
Roman nodded.
Years ago, rule number three had been you stay.
Now rule number four was different.
“We stay because we choose to.”
They kissed.
Sofia cheered.
Antonio yelled, “Gross!”
Everyone laughed.
Later, beneath winter lights, Roman danced with Clara.
Still terribly.
“You have not improved,” she whispered.
“I have other strengths.”
“Debatable.”
He smiled.
Across the ballroom, Catherine danced slowly with Antonio standing on her shoes.
Rebecca laughed.
Adrian held Claire’s hand over her pregnant belly.
Leo spun Maya too quickly.
Marcus pretended not to dance until Sofia dragged him onto the floor.
Roman looked around.
No ghosts.
Not tonight.
Clara rested her head against his chest.
“We made it.”
Roman kissed her hair.
“Don’t say that.”
“Why?”
“In our family, that invites disaster.”
She laughed.
His phone vibrated.
Roman froze.
Clara stared.
“Don’t.”
He slowly removed the phone.
A message from Rhodes.
He opened it.
Then smiled.
“What?”
Roman showed her.
Luca Moretti’s final appeal had been denied.
Bellweather dissolution complete.
All criminal investigations stemming from the Crown Reserve had reached final disposition.
No active threats remained against the Duca family.
Clara read it twice.
“Roman.”
“Yes?”
“It’s over.”
He looked around at everyone he loved.
May you like
This time, he believed her.
Almost.
