CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
M ore Marinis arrived at the house to mourn with the family. No one treated me as less, but I wasn’t ready to sit and talk about Grandpa Marini. Instead, I put myself to work, helping the housekeepers put away the food brought over, and checked in with each person to give them whatever they needed, whether it was something to eat, drink, or a quiet place to rest. Mrs. Marini held on to Rocco, who stayed on the couch by her side with his siblings. Night came, and I finally went up the stairs to the room I slept in. To my surprise, Rocco’s father, Nico, was inside when I walked in.
He startled.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you. Should I move my things so you can sleep in here?” After all, it was their home.
“No…no,” Nico said, rubbing his jaw. “Maybe you can help me. My father-in-law stopped here yesterday, and the housekeepers said he went to this room. I thought maybe he’d left something for us?”
I was puzzled.
He opened his arms. “Can you look around? Does anything appear different or out of place?”
My eyes darted around the room. The only thing different was a copy of Lady Chatterley’s Lover . He had left it with other books next to my laptop on the desk. But I knew Mr. Marini. If he left it for me, he wanted it for me alone. That was why I lied. “No, I don’t.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you sure? Take a real look.”
I checked the closets, under the bed, the bookcases, then turned to him, lifting my shoulders. “I’m sorry. I only see my things in here.”
The muscles in his face jumped, and he let out a grunt. “All right. Thanks.”
I frowned. “I’m sorry for your loss. Mr. Marini was a wonderful man.”
Nico stared at me for a few moments, then walked out of the room without a word.
I shut the door, then stared at the back of it, confused. What was that about?
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Odd.
Did Mrs. Belfiore know? I felt so exhausted from the last few hours. Grieved. But the silence seemed off, so in a moment of desperation, I called my grandmother. Her phone went to voicemail, and a strange chill went through me as my insides tumbled. I left a message.
“Luca Marini has passed away. Uhm…I…I haven’t heard from you or Mama. Please let me know if you need anything from me.”
I had no idea what to tell them. We didn’t talk much about anything other than what they wanted me to do. Their silence after the news of Mr. Marini’s passing was also strange. The word must have gotten back to them by now. What’s going on back there?
I waited by my phone for a reply for a while and checked my messages on my computer. Nothing.
The bedroom door opened, and this time, it was Rocco. I went to hug him.
“How are you holding up?” I asked in a gentle tone, holding his waist.
“I just can’t believe it,” he said and coughed.
I squeezed him then let go. My heart hurt at seeing his watery, red-rimmed eyes. He sighed heavily and clasped my hands. “Listen. Mama doesn’t want to stay in this house…it holds too many memories. I’m going to take her over to my aunt’s house and will return later. We’re all flying back to New York in the morning to see my brother Salvatore and prepare for the funeral. Don’t worry about packing; I’ll have someone send our things later.”
“Okay. That’s fine. Please help her,” I told him, my eyes tearing up.
“Sorry, Adelina.” He wrapped his arms around me. “I know how much he meant to you.”
A knock on the door had our heads turning. It was Olivia, his mother. Her eyes were puffy as tears were streaming out of them. “I didn’t want to leave without speaking to you, Adelina.”
Rocco let me go, and she came over to us.
“Oh, Olivia. I am so, so sorry for your loss,” I said as more tears pooled in my eyes.
“Thank you, sweet girl,” she whispered. She took my hand and held it firmly. “My father loved you very much. He was so proud of you and excited for your wedding. He planned it more than me.” She let out a dry laugh, and a sob.
“I…I loved him very much. He…he was always checking on me,” I stammered.
Olivia nodded a few times. “I…I don’t know how to ask, but I must. I want to ask you both to postpone the wedding and have the funeral? I know that’s asking a lot from the two of you, but we will cover everything and reschedule.”
“Of course,” Rocco said without hesitation.
I heard myself echo his words and take the hug from Mrs. Marini. But inside was a well, deep in fear and dread of what was to come.
Rocco hugged me. “Thank you. I’ll come see you later.” He left, holding his mom’s shoulder.
Left alone, the emptiness inside me expanded. The impact of Luca Marini’s death was an endless well, which I feared I’d never find the bottom of. Just when things were about to change, everything was now uncertain. Will the marriage happen? Will Rocco have to marry me or does he have a chance to end the arranged marriage? He told me he hadn’t planned to marry and was forced by his grandfather. He didn’t want children, something my family depended on for their trust and legacy. If he does, will I be forced to marry someone else?
Pain gripped my heart. In such a short time, Rocco had changed my life so profoundly. He’d reinforced so much of his grandfather’s convictions—that I too could have hopes and dreams. Slowly, with his encouragement, with getting closer to him physically, it had become hard to recall life without him. I didn’t want to live without him, but wasn’t sure how to verbalize that to him. Or if I’d get the chance. Was that love? He’d shown me since the day we were brought together that I mattered to him, and that warmth had been so much appreciated. He was a lot like his grandfather. But we weren’t in love, were we? My heart constricted and a lump lodged in my throat. I know better than to love him.
I soaked my head in the shower to chase away the bad memories, but they still crowded my mind. Every unanswered call and one-word message left a cut of regret. My conscience battered the conversations in which I only talked about myself instead of asking about him. I’d missed the wisdom Mr. Marini had tried to pass on to me, but he never failed me with his understanding, support, and love. Most of all, he believed in me. His wisdom gave me strength in my loneliness. With his guidance, I excelled as a student, and was highly recognized in my outreach. I believed in myself. Even in his final days, when I was unsure about a future in an arranged marriage, he shared with me from his own example that things could work if I’m willing. He was like a godfather, and a dear friend.
I dried off and returned to the room, dropping the towel on the desk, which knocked over the copy of Lady Chatterley’s Lover .
Mr. Marini’s book! Had he left it for me?
My head shook, and I laughed, wiping the corner of my eye. He often made me laugh, even in death apparently, I moved it back, but in my hands, it was light. Hmm. I opened the cover, and a thick envelope was stuffed in the hollowed-out pages. Had Mr. Marini dropped off a last message just for me?
I wasn’t ready for a goodbye, but I couldn’t bring myself to put it away. When we went to his home, he’d had something he wanted to share with me, but didn’t have time. Perhaps he wrote it out for me and left it where I could find it.
My hands trembled as I removed the thick envelope. A typed message was pinned to the top.
The truth: J.C.
I stiffened. J.C. Judge Colby? My father? That was the only JC I knew. Bile rose in my throat, and I fisted the papers. The last thing I’d ever wanted to discuss was my father . Mr. Marini knew I hated him. Was he trying to help me forgive him? Sorry, but that’s impossible.
I wasn’t ready to read them and went to find a purse to store them for when I felt stronger, however, a logo in the corner of the top paper caught my eye. Esquire Publishing, LLC. The boxes my father’s poetry books would arrive in had the same logo. I retrieved the paper, and read the top document.
“Congratulations. Your poetry book, “Love is a Worn Heart,” has been selected for publishing.” The paper was stapled to the second page, and the filings of the LLC were listed.
“Esquire Publishing, L.M. Esquire, Publishing, LLC. L.M. Mr. Luca Marini, owner….”
I glared down at the paper. Mr. Marini had published my father’s poetry books? The following few pages were copies of loans for real estate and personal loans for my father with the addresses we had over the years. But of course, he took drugs and gambled away everything he owned. Every property went into collections and foreclosure; the bank loans were bought by other companies for payment.
“Fairbanks Mortgage, Bank of the West, Civil Bank all sold to L. M. Holdings…Luca Marini.” Mr. Marini bought the loans? If he did, my father was in debt to him for millions. How did Mr. Marini get paid back, and why did he approve more loans for my father?
The next page listed bank transfers from Reginald Belfiore to Mr. Eric Colby. I fell to my knees. Grandfather. He paid off the loans. Heck, he even sold properties to cover them. The payments went on for years. It was clear these loans from Mr. Marini had chipped away my family’s wealth. Why did they pay for the loans?
I knew the answer. Grandfather’s pride. He’d paid so the public wouldn’t know how awful things were in his family.
I looked at the pages again. My father hadn’t just used his name to get personal loans; he’d used Mama’s, Jacob’s, and my own. I only tried once to get a credit card and was rejected, but I hadn’t needed money—my grandparents covered most of my expenses in college. Or I did with my small family trust.
But there were more pages.
My stomach lurched, and my hands shook. I didn’t know if I could go on, but I couldn’t stop myself.
The first was a screenshot from a phone : Luca Marini with Willy and Mrs. Ashford. They stood next to a car in front of a house. Mr. Marini had admitted that he knew the Ashfords had backed out of my arranged marriage that very night I texted him . I never wanted to marry Willy Ashford. Surely Mr. Marini wouldn’t have used my past to ruin that arrangement, would he? A cut sliced inside my heart just thinking about it.
I flipped to the final page. It was a picture of my father burning a pipe over foil with a man standing over him. Luca Marini . Why would they have been together? Who took these photos of Mr. Marini with my father? What was going on? Could he have known my father was hurting Mama and me? Did he purposely make my grandfather poorer?
He was so remorseful about revenge when we talked at his home.
He’d even said to me in Italy, “ If it hadn’t been for Aurora, I’d still be hellbent on revenge. It consumed me for years, and I deserve hell for all I’ve done, but I ask for your forgiveness .”
Mr. Marini spoke of revenge, but what exactly did this mean? The man I’d grown to love and care for had helped my father destroy my family? Impossible. Judge Colby was a menace. Nothing in the papers changed my hatred for him. Did Mr. Marini know how Mama and I had suffered because of him? Did he help him in anyway? But he did ask for absolution, and I thought more about his anger for my grandmother Constance Belfiore, who he claimed to have loved and she left him for my grandfather. Was there another plan for me?
I had so many questions and I didn’t know where to find the answers. Most of all, I needed to know how much Rocco knew about his grandpa. If he hated us so much, why did he arrange for Rocco to marry me? It was all so devastating, and my heart couldn’t put it together that Luca Marini would ever hurt me.
My stomach lurched, and the papers grew wet with tears. I dropped the papers and wanted to shove them away. But something else caught my eye on the back of the last photo. It had a familiar bank number at the bottom of the page. I recognized it. Mr. Marini had given me that same number many times over the years. Next to it was a handwritten note.
The words were a match that burned me to nothingness. That dreadful night, Judge Colby, my father had told Mama he intended to sell me….
His hand slammed the motel door shut, then pushed my shoulders. I stumbled into the room, dropping the fast food bag I’d brought back for Mama from my shift.
“Bout time you came back,” he stepped on the bag and smashed the food into the rank carpet. “Been waiting for you.”
“Don’t talk to me,” I snapped at him and glared over at Mama. Was that man outside in here?
I hadn’t asked, but my look was enough. She knew I knew.
Her face pinked and she clinched the bathrobe she had on.
“What’s going on?” I said and took a step towards her.
He stepped in front of me blocking my path.
“She’s where I told her to stay,” he said. His eyes were bloodshot. “It’s time you earn your keep. Your Mama isn’t bringing in the money like she used to.”
My eyes shot to Mama. Her hands covered her face and her body shook with sobs. He’s been selling Mama? No. No. No. But she can’t even look at me.
“No. Oh, Mama,” I sobbed, and my fist clenched. “Get out and leave us alone you piece of shit.”
He hit my jaw. My teeth rattled, and I spat out blood on him.
“You fucking bitch. Think you’re too good?” He grabbed my neck, and snarled, his breath hot and rank. He fisted my shirt and I clawed at his hands. “I bet you are a slut, too.”
“Let me go,” I hissed.
“Lorelei says you’re a virgin, but she lies. The men want to know what they’re paying for.”
“Leave her alone, Eric,” Mama yelled, grabbing him.
The fabric on my uniform top tore and the clasp on my bra broke. My hands covered my chest.
He leered.
“Stop it,” Mama said, placing her hand on his shoulder. “That’s your daughter.”
He grabbed her and threw her across the bed, and tugged open his pants. “You need to show her how to fuck.” He stepped on the foil and crushed his drug pipe. “Look what you made me do, you bitch.”
My hands grabbed the folding chair….
I clutched my stomach and gagged, rushing to the bathroom in time to vomit in the toilet. The hatred and anger stayed. Judge Colby should’ve died. Did Mr. Marini really plan to buy me? To what end? Was he always pretending?
I fell down to my knees and sobbed as my world was upended. The sense of being lost, of not knowing who to trust or where to turn, was suffocating. What had changed his mind? My thoughts journeyed back to meeting Luca Marini on that bench behind my grandparents’ estate near the Croton Reservoir….
I crossed over to walk on the stone stairs leading down to the bottom of the hill. On this side of the mansion was the reservoir. At the bottom, a male voice was singing opera not too far ahead, and from the light of lamps, there was a seating area near the dock. My eyes shifted around the path. Behind me was no trail; I had to pass him to reach the main road. I shivered and set off.
The crunch of my boots on approach had the man on the bench turning his head. He waved beckoning me and called, “Hi there, little one. What brings you out on a chilly night?”
“Just going for a walk.” I wasn’t sure who he was, but there was no anger in his eyes. And after the night I’d had, I didn’t think I could take more anger and yelling. And blood. But still, I was cautious.
“I don’t speak to strangers,” I said and swallowed.
“That’s wise.” He smiled. “Let me tell you who I am. Luca Marini.” He paused like I should know him, but I didn’t. “I live in the house next door and know The Belfiores. We share this area and I come here when I’m in town. Now, your turn.”
I bristled in a gust of cold wind and eyed the seat again. My pocketknife was in my jeans in case I got in trouble. I just wanted to rest, but I knew this wasn’t the time or place. But….
There was a bag next to him with seeds, and he tossed them on the ground. He seemed like a nice man. A few birds were near but hadn’t taken them. “They’re waiting for you to relax, and I didn’t catch your name?”
“Uhm…I didn’t give it. Stranger Danger and all that,” I said and shrugged.
“Yeah, you never can be too careful,” he quipped and went back to singing.
The heat lamps were warm, and I stopped shivering. My shoulders dropped, and I rubbed the back of my neck.
Then, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a paperback. A glance at Mr. Marini and his expression had softened to sympathetic but quickly changed back to amusement.
“What’re you reading?”
“Mother’s Night by Kurt Vonn….” When I didn’t know how to pronounce something, I spoke the part I was sure of.
“Vonnegut,” he said and frowned. “That’s a dark satire and inappropriate for a young lady your age. How old are you?”
I bit my lip and didn’t answer.
“I’d guess no more than twelve—”
“I’m fourteen,” I said abruptly.
The corners of his mouth turned down. “You look a lot younger. It’s too cold to be outside without a coat. It’s going to snow tonight.” His tone was admonishing.
I shrugged and hummed The Frozen song, “Let It Go.”
“You sing the Frozen song? I’m old, and I know that one. My grandchildren watched the movie every day. Drove me insane.”
I stifled a giggle.
Mr. Marini let out a belly laugh, and I joined in. He dug into his pocket, pulled out a ball of wrapped candy, and held it out for me to take.
I shook my head, refusing. “I don’t eat sweets. Mama says sweets will make my teeth rot and think of things impure.”
“That’s the same thing my Mama used to say. Are you Catholic? You went to Mass today?”
I nodded. “I go every day.”
I wasn’t strong in faith, but the cathedrals were warm, and I loved the smell of incense and singing. The prayers made me believe in a life that wasn’t as bad as mine. But I kept those thoughts to myself.
He sighed heavily, threw more seeds on the ground, and the birds chirped. “I go every day, too. You could eat it and still confess, you know.”
I shook my head back and forth and pulled my hat down over my ears. “No, thank you, Mr. Marini.”
He chuckled and nodded. “You’re polite. I like that. You were at the Belfiore’s, but you snuck away to think.” His tone turned sympathetic.
“I didn’t sneak, I….” I took a deep breath.
“It’s okay if you did,” he said. “Sometimes impulses lead to making hasty decisions. And even in the worst situations, there’s someone else that has it worse and may need you.”
I tensed. Mr. Marini may have seen me and Mama sitting outside the front house. That was when I thought about how long I’d been gone. She’s probably looking for me. She wasn’t on the hill, she was on the steps walking down towards us. She must’ve spotted me.
“Adelina, don’t go, please come back.” Mama yelled over.
My hands fumbled on the book, and Luka bent down and picked it up quicker than I had expected.
“We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be. Be careful pretending. That’s from that book.” He pulled out a card and tucked it in the pages. “That has my email, address, and phone number. Could you send me a message? Tell me what you’re reading.”
I took the book and stood there baffled. “Why would I do that? I just met you.”
“Because you’ll make an old man happy, and you’ll find I’m a good uncle to have. You are strong, little one. And I think that resilience will be your superpower, Adelina.”
He laughed and I smiled, touching the card….
I pressed my hand to my chest as my head echoed with Mr. Marini’s laughs, smiles, and his veiled warning, “Be careful pretending.” Because perhaps no one would actually want or love me for me.
Would I forever be part of a billionaire’s pact or would someone actually love me one day?
End of Part One. Love and Destiny Trilogy, Book 2 coming soon.