Epilogue
ANGELO
One year after.
The Metropolitan Museum is filled with New York's elite crowd, struggling to make connections with powerful men and women in the building.
I stand alone with my third glass of champagne, watching them all.
A year ago, I would've been working the room, closing deals between handshakes. Now I'm just going through the motions.
Rebuilt, my kingdom—that’s what Forbes called it last month—is now stronger than ever.
What a load of shit.
Sure, the money's back. The power too. But rebuilding isn't the same as restoration. The foundation has shifted. I've shifted.
I downed the champagne in one swallow, ignoring the disapproving glance from a senator's wife. Let her judge. None of these people knows what it cost me to stand here tonight, under these lights, pretending I'm whole.
A year passes strangely when you're haunted. Eighteen-hour days blur into nights spent staring at the ceiling, seeing her face. I've rebuilt my empire with hands that still reach for her in my sleep.
I made the SEC an offer they couldn't refuse: the Kovacs network gift-wrapped with a bow, in exchange for them backing the hell off my company. My new financial analyst—some Harvard kid who's brilliant but will never be her—structured it as a "mutual cooperation agreement."
Much cleaner than an immunity deal.
Kaif from the SEC had stared at me across the conference table, knowing she was being played but unable to resist the bigger win. "You're a lucky man, Bellanti," she said as we shook hands.
Lucky. Right.
The Kovacs are finished. As for Veronica, she's still in witness protection and has gone back to her disgusting habit—gambling.
She thought she hid it well, but I’ve known since our college days at Wharton. I just didn't bring it up out of respect for her.
But now? Now, all bets are off. Now, I make sure she loses exactly the amount of her monthly stipend to online poker sites. It's petty, but some nights it's the only thing that helps me sleep.
"Magnificent event, Mr. Bellanti." The mayor's hand lands heavy on my shoulder, smiling widely. "The foundation's work with those scholarship programs—truly inspirational."
I force my face into the smile that's sold a million copies of magazines. "Education changes lives, Mayor. Sometimes it's the difference between becoming a CEO or a criminal."
He laughs as if I've said something funny.
Across the room, Matteo catches my eye. He’s leaning against the bar, his hand on his wife, Elena’s waist. He has been my shadow this past year, watching me like he's afraid I'll shatter if he looks away. Maybe he's right.
Olivia stands with her husband, Marco, near the bar, beautiful in Valentino. She still has that look—the one that's called my bullshit since we were kids.
Lorenzo is off in Sicily with his daughter and Sophia, doing business. Same with Isabella and her husband, Nico Moretti.
Father stayed back. His leg has been giving him some issues, and although he’s too stubborn to admit it, he’s growing old and needs to rest as much as he can.
Despite everything that happened, my family survived. Sometimes that's all I can focus on.
I check my watch—a new Patek Philippe. I smashed the old one against my bathroom wall the night everything fell apart.
The night I learned that Sarah Bennett was actually Gianna Rossi, SEC agent.
The night I realized I'd fallen in love with a lie.
"Angelo Bellanti!"
I turn to find Senator Wilson approaching, younger blonde wife in tow. He's been on my payroll for years—useful when you need certain jurisdictions to look the other way.
"Senator, Mrs. Wilson." I kiss her hand, all charm and perfect teeth. "The foundation appreciates your continued support."
I make small talk on autopilot, my mind already elsewhere. Even surrounded by people who'd kill to be in my orbit, I feel completely alone.
Something vital is missing.
Someone vital.
Gianna Rossi.
My staff know better than to mention her name. I fired an assistant who left a newspaper on my desk with her photo in it. Four months ago, drunk on scotch and regret, I almost called Kaif at the SEC to ask about her. I stopped myself before dialing.
She disappeared after the Kovacs takedown. I told myself it was better that way. Told myself I was glad.
God, I'm a terrible liar.
"Excuse me," I mutter to the senator, shoving my empty glass at a passing waiter.
I need air. The museum's balcony is mercifully empty, the October chill keeping the socialites inside. I loosen my tie and gulp down cold air, trying to ease the constant pressure in my chest.
New York sprawls below me, all lights and darkness. My city. My empire. My fucking consolation prize, but it doesn’t feel that way.
Truth is, I've been sleepwalking for a year. Food tastes like nothing. Women feel like strangers. I'm the king of Wall Street again, and I'd trade it all for one more moment with her—even knowing what I know now.
How pathetic is that?
And then—like my tortured brain has conjured her from thin air—I see her.
Across the grand hall, standing near the Greek sculptures.
Gianna. My heart slams against my ribs like it's trying to escape.
She's wearing a black dress that hugs every curve I memorized.
Her now darker hair falls loose around her shoulders, not in that severe bun she wore as "Sarah.
" But her eyes—those eyes that saw right through me from day one—they're exactly the same.
Run, whispers the voice of self-preservation. Run before she destroys what's left of you.
Instead, I move toward her like she's magnetic north and I'm helplessly drawn to her. She sees me coming and stands her ground.
"You still do that thing with your jaw when you're thinking too hard," she says as I reach her, and her voice hits me like a physical blow.
I struggle to keep my face neutral, though my pulse is racing. "I figured you'd be in witness protection by now. Or chasing down some other CEO in Wyoming."
"I quit the SEC." She takes a sip of champagne, but I notice her hand trembles slightly. "I couldn't stay after... everything."
"And now?" I ask, hating how desperate I am to know.
"I started my own financial compliance firm." She looks me straight in the eye, unflinching. "Turns out there's a market for someone who knows exactly how the most sophisticated money laundering operations work."
I almost smile. Of course, she'd turn her knowledge into a business. She was always smarter than everyone else in the room.
"Pretty bold showing up here," I say, stepping closer. "Half the room would happily see you dead for what you did."
She moves closer too, close enough that I can smell her perfume—something expensive and subtle. Not the department store scent she wore as Sarah. "You're not one of them."
"You sound awfully sure for someone who lied to my face for months."
Her lips curve slightly. "I'm sure because you've had a year to find me if you wanted revenge. You and I both know you could have. That I'm still breathing means something."
She's right. I could have found her anywhere. Some nights I pulled up her file, finger hovering over the keyboard. I told myself it was hatred that made me stop. Another lie.
"Why are you here, Gianna?" Her real name feels strange yet right on my tongue.
"I have a business proposition."
I laugh, the sound rusty and unfamiliar. "Jesus. You don't change, do you?"
"I can help you stay clean," she says. "The legitimate part of your business. The foundation. I can make sure no one ever gets close enough to find anything they shouldn't."
The goddamn audacity. "So you're my protector now?"
"I want to be in your life again." Her voice softens, and I see what this admission costs her. Gianna Rossi doesn't do vulnerability. Neither do I. "In whatever way you'll allow."
She searches my face, and I feel naked under her gaze. "Angelo, I know what I did was unforgivable. I came here tonight ready to beg if I had to."
I step closer, close enough to see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. Close enough to touch her, though I don't trust myself to stop once I touch her.
"Tell me one thing," I demand, my voice rougher than intended. "Was any of it real? Those nights in my bed? That day at my father's house?"
Her eyes never leave mine. "All of it. That's why I couldn't finish the job. That's why I warned you about the Kovacs."
"You threw away your career." For me. The unspoken words hang between us.
"And you let me walk away." She holds my gaze. "We're even."
We stand in silence. A year ago, I would've walked away. Pride would've demanded it. But pride is cold comfort at 3 AM when you're reaching for someone who isn't there.
"I should hate you," I say finally, the truth spilling out before I can stop it. "I've tried. God knows I've tried."
"Why can't you?" she whispers, leaning close.
My control snaps.
I pull her against me and kiss her like I'm drowning and she's air. She tastes like champagne and redemption and home. Her hands slide into my hair, and I feel something broken inside me heal.
When we break apart, both breathing hard, I press my forehead against hers. "You destroyed me, Little Auditor," I whisper. "I can't sleep in my bed without reaching for you."
Tears fill her eyes. "I never thought—I didn't know if you'd ever forgive me."
"I forgave you the moment you warned me about the Kovacs." The admission feels like setting down a heavy weight I've carried for miles. "I've been so fucking angry because I couldn't stop loving you."
A tear slips down her cheek. "I thought I'd never see you again."
"I have a counterproposal," I smirk. "This charitable foundation needs a compliance officer. Someone ruthless, brilliant, and absolutely incorruptible."
She raises an eyebrow, but I see the hope she's trying to hide. "Are you offering me a job, Bellanti?"
"I'm offering you a job," I say, my mouth curving into what feels like my first genuine smile in a year. "And a key to my penthouse."
"And if I want more than just a job and a key?" Her boldness always undid me.
I brush a strand of hair from her face, letting my fingers linger on her cheek. "Then you've already got it. I never stopped loving you, even when I wanted to hate you."
More tears come, and it breaks something in me to see fierce, uncompromising Gianna crying. "I don't deserve this," she whispers. "Any of it."
"I love you," she says, and the words crack open my chest. "I have since the beginning. Even when I was trying to build a case against you. That's how I knew it was real."
Camera flashes explode around us as the paparazzi notice us. By morning, we'll be splashed across every tabloid. The fallen king of Wall Street and the mysterious woman who brought him to his knees.
Let them speculate. Some secrets are worth protecting.
I pull her against me again, no longer giving a damn who sees. For the first time in a year, I feel fully awake. "We start fresh tomorrow," I murmur against her hair. "New rules. New life."
"I accept," she whispers before I kiss her again.
Tomorrow, we'll figure out the details. Tonight, I'm just a man who's been given a second chance with the woman who knows all my sins and loves me anyway.
THE END
Thank you for reading Indigo Deception!
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