Chapter 15 Valentino
SIX MONTHS.
SIX months since our arrest, and tomorrow the trial began.
I stood in the kitchen chopping vegetables while Luca worked on the sauce. We'd decided to cook dinner together—something normal, something domestic. One last quiet evening before everything changed.
"Hand me the basil?" Luca asked.
I passed it to him and watched as he added it to the pan. His movements were precise, controlled. The persona performing even in our kitchen, trying to stay calm.
"We're going to be okay," I said, though I wasn't sure who I was trying to convince.
"We are." He stirred the sauce. "No matter what verdict comes, we face it together."
"Together," I agreed.
We ate at the dining table, both of us quiet. The food was good but I barely tasted it. All I could think about was tomorrow—the courthouse, the jury, the prosecution laying out their case against us.
"I love you," Luca said suddenly.
I looked up. "I love you too."
"Whatever happens in court, that doesn't change. You know that, right?"
"I know." I reached for his hand. "We survive this. Whatever form it takes."
After dinner, we cleaned up together and went to bed early. Neither of us slept much. We just held each other in the darkness, both trying to find peace before the storm.
***
The courthouse was surrounded by media.
Cameras flashed as we got out of the car. Reporters shouted questions. I kept my head down and let Luca guide me through the crowd, Emilio on our other side running interference.
Inside was quieter but no less intimidating. Federal courthouse, high ceilings, serious faces everywhere. We were led to a courtroom and took our seats at the defense table.
"Ready?" Emilio asked.
I wasn't. But I nodded anyway.
Jury selection took most of the morning. Potential jurors were questioned about their knowledge of the case, their opinions on organized crime, whether they could be impartial. Most had heard about us. Several were dismissed for bias.
Finally, twelve jurors and two alternates were seated. Seven women, five men. Mix of ages and backgrounds. I studied their faces, trying to guess what they thought of us.
Judge Morrison entered and everyone stood. "Be seated. We'll begin with opening statements."
The prosecutor stood—a woman named Angela Chen, sharp-eyed and confident. She faced the jury and began.
"Luca Romano is a powerful man with connections to organized crime. When he wanted something from journalist Valentino Russo, he took it. He coerced. He manipulated. He used threats and leverage to turn Mr. Russo into his puppet."
I felt Luca tense beside me.
"The evidence will show a clear pattern," Chen continued. "Mr. Romano approached Mr. Russo and made demands. Shortly after, Mr. Russo began publishing articles favorable to the Vitale organization. When federal agents began investigating, both men worked to obstruct justice."
She laid it out methodically. The timeline, the relationship, the articles. Made it sound calculated and criminal. Made us sound guilty.
When she finished, Emilio stood.
"This is a love story," he said simply. "It's a complicated one that started wrong. Mr. Romano did approach Mr. Russo with leverage. That's true. But what happened next wasn't coercion—it was choice."
He walked toward the jury. "Mr. Russo chose to get to know Mr. Romano. Chose to give him a chance. Chose to fall in love. And yes, he continued his journalism career while in that relationship. But his work remained factually accurate and ethically sound."
Emilio's voice was calm, reasonable. "The prosecution wants you to believe Mr. Russo had no agency, no choice. But the evidence will show otherwise. These two men built something real from a difficult beginning. That's not a crime. Choice is not a crime. Love is not a crime."
When he sat down, I felt marginally better. At least our side was out there too.
"Prosecution may call its first witness," Judge Morrison said.
"The People call Robert Hayes."
An older man took the stand. Fifties, gray hair, nervous demeanor. I didn't recognize him at first, then realized—the super from my Brooklyn apartment building.
"Mr. Hayes, you're the superintendent at 847 Sterling Place in Brooklyn?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"And is Mr. Russo a tenant there?"
"Yes. Has been for three years."
"Did you ever observe Mr. Romano visiting that building?"
My stomach dropped. I knew where this was going.
"Objection," Emilio said. "Relevance?"
"Your Honor, we're establishing the coercive nature of the initial contact."
"Overruled. The witness may answer."
Hayes shifted uncomfortably. "Yes. I saw him there once. Early February."
"Can you describe that encounter?"
"I was in the lobby when this man—" He gestured at Luca. "—came in asking for Mr. Russo's apartment number. I told him I couldn't give out that information. He was... insistent."
"Insistent how?"
"Intimidating. Made it clear he wasn't leaving without seeing Mr. Russo. I eventually told him the apartment number just to get him to stop." Hayes looked apologetic. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have."
Chen nodded. "What was Mr. Romano's demeanor?"
"Cold. Threatening, though he never said anything explicitly threatening. Just had that air about him, you know? Like someone you don't want to cross."
Beside me, Luca sat perfectly still. The persona on full display.
"And after that visit, did you notice changes in Mr. Russo?"
"Objection," Emilio said. "The witness isn't qualified to assess Mr. Russo's mental state."
"I'll rephrase. Did you observe Mr. Russo's behavior after that date?"
"He seemed stressed. Jumpy. Would check behind him when entering the building. Looked like someone who was scared."
My face burned. It was true—I had been scared. Terrified of what Luca might do.
Chen pulled out surveillance photos from my building's security camera. Luca entering. Looking intimidating even in a still image. Time stamp: February 8th. Two days before my first favorable article about the Vitale organization published.
"People's Exhibit 3. Timeline showing Mr. Romano's visit to Mr. Russo's residence on February 8th, followed by this article—" She held up a printout. "—published February 10th. A pattern of coercion followed by compliance."
The jury studied the evidence. It looked damning because it was true. Luca had intimidated me. I had been scared. And then I'd written that article.
What they couldn't see was everything that came after. The choice. The evolution. The love.
Emilio cross-examined, getting Hayes to admit he never heard actual threats, never witnessed violence, never saw Luca return after that first visit. But the damage was done.
The initial coercion was established. And to the jury, it probably looked like that coercion never ended.
The pattern was established. The timeline clear. It looked exactly like what the prosecution said—coercion turning into control turning into conspiracy.
When court adjourned for the day, I felt sick.
Luca took my hand. "Day one down."
"How many more days of this?"
"As many as it takes." He squeezed my hand. "We're going to be okay."
I wanted to believe him. But watching that testimony, seeing those photos, hearing our relationship reduced to evidence—it felt like we were already losing.