Chapter 19 Emilio
MY NEW OFFICE was smaller than the one I'd had at Sterling & Associates. No window overlooking the city. No mahogany desk that cost more than most people's cars. Just functional furniture in a building in Tribeca that had character instead of prestige.
I loved it.
Diana Martinez & Associates occupied the third floor of a converted warehouse.
Exposed brick. High ceilings. An atmosphere that said we're here to win cases, not impress corporate clients.
The entire firm was five attorneys, three paralegals, and a receptionist who looked like she could kill someone with her stapler if they annoyed her sufficiently.
"You settling in okay?" Diana appeared in my doorway holding two cups of coffee. She handed me one without asking if I wanted it. I'd learned in a week that Diana operated on assumptions that were usually correct.
"Still getting used to the change." I gestured at the case files covering my desk. "But the work's good. Thank you again for taking a chance on me."
"Taking a chance? Emilio, you're the best hire I've made in five years. Clients are already asking specifically for you." She leaned against the doorframe. "Though I suspect some of that's because they want to say they hired Alessandro Vitale's boyfriend's firm."
I winced slightly. "Is that going to be a problem?"
"Are you kidding? It's fantastic for business. Half the criminals in New York want representation from someone who's connected to the Vitale organization." She sipped her coffee. "The other half think you're corrupted and compromised, but fuck them. They can hire someone else."
This was why I liked Diana. No pretense. No judgment. Just pragmatic assessment of how things worked in the real world.
"Speaking of your boyfriend," she continued, "trial starts in two weeks. I'm ready, but if you've got any insights on the prosecution's strategy, now would be the time to share."
"Roberto Green's going to try to paint Sandro as a career criminal who's corrupted everyone around him.
He'll use the assault case to establish a pattern of violence and intimidation.
" I pulled up the notes I'd been keeping despite not being on the case anymore.
"But his witnesses are weak. I identified seventeen contradictions in their statements.
If you hammer them on cross-examination, the timeline falls apart. "
"I've got the contradictions. Your notes were incredibly detailed." She smiled. "You miss it, don't you? Being on the case."
"Every day. But this is better. No ethical violations. No conflicts." I paused. "Even if it means watching from the gallery instead of the defense table."
"You'll be watching from the gallery?"
"Every day of the trial. Sandro wants me there." I met her eyes. "Is that going to be a problem?"
"Only if you try to pass me notes during testimony. Then I'll have the bailiff remove you for being a distraction." She pushed off the doorframe. "Otherwise, sit wherever you want. Just remember you're a spectator now, not his attorney."
After she left, I returned to the brief I was writing for a different client. White-collar fraud case. Embezzlement charges. The kind of work I'd been doing at Sterling but without the suffocating oversight and political maneuvering.
My phone rang at 8 PM. I'd been working late, trying to clear my desk before the trial consumed all my attention. I glanced at the screen and felt my stomach drop.
Marco.
My ex-husband hadn't called me in weeks. Not since that tense conversation after the DA fundraiser where I'd destroyed Roberto Green publicly. We'd exchanged a few texts about dividing the last of our shared property, but nothing substantial. Nothing that required actual conversation.
I answered cautiously. "Marco."
"Emilio. Are you somewhere private?"
The tone of his voice—serious, almost concerned—made my pulse quicken. "I'm at my office. Alone. What's wrong?"
"I'm calling because despite everything, I don't want to see you blindsided." He took a breath. "The DA's office knows about your relationship with Vitale. They're planning to use it during the trial."
"Use it how?"
"They're going to argue that Vitale has a pattern of corrupting people around him.
His attorney. His employees. His business partners.
They'll point to your relationship as evidence that he manipulates and controls anyone who gets close to him.
" Marco's voice was carefully neutral. "Roberto's building a narrative that Vitale identified you as vulnerable—drowning in debt, recent divorce, isolated—and systematically compromised you.
Paid off your loans. Bought you expensive things. Made you dependent on him."
My hands tightened on the phone. "That's not what happened."
"Doesn't matter if it's true. It's a story that plays well with juries. Wealthy criminal targets struggling attorney, corrupts him, proves he corrupts everyone." He paused. "They're going to make you look like his victim. Or his co-conspirator. Either way, it damages Vitale's defense."
"I withdrew from the case specifically to avoid conflicts of interest. The relationship started—"
"When?" Marco's question was quiet. "Be honest, Emilio. When did it really start?"
I was silent. Because Marco knew the answer. We'd been married for five years. He could read me better than almost anyone.
"That's what I thought," he said. "Look, I'm not judging. Your personal life is your business. But the DA's office has investigators. They're going to dig. If they can prove the relationship started while you were his attorney, they'll use it to suggest you were compromised from the beginning."
"Why are you warning me? You work for the DA's office. This is your case too."
"I'm not on the Vitale prosecution. I recused myself because of our history." He sighed. "And I'm calling because you were a good man when I knew you. Maybe you still are. I don't know. But you deserve to know what's coming."
"Thank you. For the warning."
"Emilio?" His voice softened slightly. "I meant what I said at the fundraiser. I hope it was worth it. Whatever you've got with Vitale. I hope it's worth everything you're sacrificing."
He hung up before I could respond.
I sat staring at my phone, processing the implications. The DA was going to make my relationship with Sandro a focal point of the trial. Use it to paint him as a manipulator. Use me as evidence of his corrupting influence.
Diana's defense strategy assumed the relationship was irrelevant to the charges. But if the prosecution made it relevant—made me part of the narrative—everything changed.
I called Sandro. He answered on the second ring despite the background noise suggesting he was somewhere crowded.
"Emilio. Everything okay?"
"Marco just called. The DA's office is planning to use our relationship during your trial. They're going to argue you corrupted me as evidence of a pattern of corrupting everyone around you."
Silence. Then: "Hold on."
I heard him excuse himself from whatever conversation he'd been having. The background noise faded. A door closed.
"Okay. I'm alone. Tell me exactly what Marco said."
I repeated the conversation. Every detail. Every implication. When I finished, Sandro was quiet for a long moment.
"We expected this," he said finally. "Diana's already prepared to argue that you withdrew from representation specifically to avoid any appearance of impropriety.
The relationship started after you were no longer counsel of record.
There's no ethical violation because there's no professional relationship. "
"Sandro, that's not entirely true. We slept together while I was still your attorney. Multiple times. If they can prove that—"
"They can't prove it. There's no evidence. No witnesses. No documentation." His voice was steady. Confident. "Nobody knows except us. And we're not telling anyone."
"What if they subpoena hotel records? Credit card statements? What if there's evidence we're not thinking of?"
"There isn't. I've been careful. Everything we did together happened in private spaces I control.
My estate. My apartment above Inferno. Places where there are no records beyond my own security footage, which nobody gets access to without my permission.
" He paused. "Emilio, you need to trust me on this.
I've been navigating investigations for years. I know how to cover my tracks."
"This isn't about covering tracks. This is about lying in court if they ask directly when the relationship started."
"They won't ask directly because they don't have standing. You're not on trial. You're not a witness in my case. Your relationship with me is personal and private. Unless they have actual evidence it's relevant to the charges, they can't make it part of the trial."
"And if they do have evidence?"
"Then Diana will object and the judge will sustain because personal relationships aren't relevant to assault charges.
" His voice softened. "I know this is hard for you.
You've built your career on truth and evidence.
But sometimes in my world, the truth is whatever we can prove.
And they can't prove anything about when our relationship started unless we tell them. "
I leaned back in my chair. Closed my eyes. "I've never lied under oath before."
"I'm not asking you to lie under oath. I'm asking you to trust me when I say they won't put you in a position where you have to." He took a breath. "Where are you right now?"
"My office."
"Come to Inferno. I'll be there in thirty minutes. We'll talk about this properly. In person."
"I don't know if talking is going to help."
"Then we won't talk. We'll just be together. Whatever you need, Emilio. But don't sit alone in your office spiraling about worst-case scenarios that aren't going to happen."
He was right. Sitting here obsessing wasn't productive. And I wanted to see him. Needed to see him.
"Okay. I'll be there in forty-five minutes."
"I'll be waiting."