Chapter 24
San Vittore Prison was a place that sucked the color out of the world.
Gray concrete walls, fluorescent lights buzzing like trapped flies, and the constant smell of cheap disinfectant trying to mask the stench of human despair.
It was the opposite of my world and the house full of light and life that I had built in Brera.
But I had to come.
The trial was approaching, and I had left no room for error.
As soon as Bianca was discharged from the hospital, I directed the police straight to him.
I didn’t stop there; I handed over to the prosecutors every shred of evidence he’d hidden for years.
Silvio wasn’t in jail just for the attempted murder of Bianca, but for an extensive list of corporate crimes, fraud, and money laundering that my lawyers had unearthed to ensure he’d never see the light of day again.
My lead attorney, Corrado, had called. Silvio Moretti wanted to see me. He claimed he had something to say before disappearing into the prison system for the rest of his miserable life.
I sat in the visiting room with the thick, scratched glass separating us.
When the guards brought him in, I barely recognized him.
The arrogant, impeccable man who had stormed into my apartment a year ago, throwing photos on the table like playing cards, was gone…
leaving behind a broken figure. His hair, once dyed black, was gray and thinning.
His shoulders were hunched, as if the weight of his own lies had finally crushed him.
He sat down on the other side of the glass. He picked up the black phone with his cuffed, unsteady hands.
“Marco.” His voice was a rasp, dry and lifeless.
“Silvio,” I kept my tone cool and controlled.
He looked down at his own hands, avoiding my gaze.
“I didn’t mean to…” he began, his voice faltering. “I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I was drunk. I was… furious. You… took everything from me with that press conference… humiliated me.”
“You took everything away from yourself, Silvio,” I cut him off, mercilessly. “You lied, manipulated, and tried to destroy a family because you couldn’t handle your own failure.”
He raised his head, and for a second, the old fire returned to his eyes.
“Do you think you know what failure is? The golden boy who built everything ‘on his own’? You don’t know a thing!
” Silvio leaned forward, his breath fogging the glass.
“I’ve always hated the Ferraros. Alessandro…
that arrogant old man.” The name came out like poison.
“Years ago, I went to him with a proposal—a merger that would have saved my father’s company.
He didn’t even look at the contract; he laughed in my face, Marco.
He said the Morettis didn’t have ‘what it takes.’ He destroyed us with a polite smile. ”
I watched him, seeing the bitterness eating away at him from the inside.
“And then… you.” He pointed an unsteady finger at me. “My protégé. The son I never had. I taught you everything… and what did you do? You joined them… you decided to marry his daughter. To unite your blood with that of the man who destroyed me.”
“I fell in love with her, Silvio. It wasn’t about you.”
“Everything is about me!” he shouted, causing the guard to step forward. Silvio lowered his unsteady voice. “Seeing you abandon them at the altar… was the happiest day of my life. I thought I’d won. Then… you came back.”
“You tried to kill the woman I love.”
Silvio wilted, and the rage dissipated, leaving only ruin.
“I didn’t want to kill her,” he whispered, and I saw real tears in his bloodshot eyes. “I just wanted… for them to suffer. The way I suffered.”
I clenched my teeth and fists; for him, those excuses might have been enough, but for me, they only made me want to hate him even more.
“The baby…” The question slipped out before he could stop it. “Did he… survive?”
His question caught me off guard.
“He’s alive,” I replied, as hard as stone. “Thanks to her and the strength you said the Ferraros didn’t have. My son is alive and healthy.”
Silvio nodded, swallowing hard.
“Forgive me, Marco. For God’s sake… I’ve lost my soul.”
I stared at him. The man who nearly destroyed my life, who taught me to be ruthless, and who ended up being my greatest lesson in what I should not be.
I wanted to feel hatred and scream that he would rot in hell. Yet all I felt was… pity and relief that he was behind bars.
“I’ll never forgive you, Silvio,” I said, and the truth of those words echoed off the glass. “For what you did to Bianca… there’s no forgiveness. But I won’t carry you with me. Your hatred will no longer poison my life the way it poisoned yours.”
I stood up.
“Where are you going?” he asked, in childish panic.
“I’m going home… to my wife and my son.”
I hung up the phone. I didn’t look back as I walked out. I left him there, condemned to the prison he himself had built with decades of resentment.
When I left San Vittore, the air in Milan had never seemed so sweet. It was raining—a fine, gray drizzle that felt like a baptism.
I got into my car and drove; when I walked into the house, it was quiet. The scent of lavender and talcum powder greeted me.
Bianca was in the living room, near the garden window, gently rocking Leo, and she turned when she heard the door. She knew where I’d been.
“How did it go?” she asked, in a soft, cautious voice.
I didn’t answer with words. I didn’t need them anymore.
I walked over to her. I took Leo from her arms and kissed him on the forehead, smelling the scent of life on him. I placed him in the portable crib next to the sofa.
Then I went back to her.
I pulled her into a crushing embrace, burying my face in her neck, breathing her in.
“It’s over, Bianca,” I whispered against her skin. “The past is over. It stayed there.”
She held me tight, stroking my back. The final shadow had vanished, and it was just the two of us.