Chapter 10 - Whispers of the Past

Despite our safety, the social elite of New York were not blind.

Rumors began to swirl through the upper echelons of high society. The reclusive billionaire Lorenzo Rossi, who had vanished from charity galas and corporate boardrooms following the tragic death of his wife, was suddenly being seen in public again—always accompanied by a stunning, mysterious young woman and a thriving infant heir.

The annual Winter Gala at the Metropolitan Museum of Art was approaching. It was an event Sophia had loved, and an event where every corrupt politician, judge, and rival business mogul gathered to display their power.

"You don't have to go," I told Hannah one evening as we sat by the roaring fireplace in the library, Leo sleeping peacefully in his bassinet between our armchairs.

Hannah looked up from her book, her expression calm and composed. "Do you want to go?"

"I want them to see that the Rossi family didn't break," I answered truthfully. "I want them to know that Leo is alive, healthy, and untouchable. But the press will be ruthless. They will ask questions about who you are."

Hannah set her book down, walked over to my chair, and knelt beside me, resting her hand over mine on the armrest.

"Let them ask," she said, her voice steady and full of conviction. "I was a victim once, Lorenzo. I hid in the dark, ashamed of the scars that other people gave me. But because of you, and because of Leo, I am not afraid anymore. I will stand beside you."

I looked at her, captivated by the fire in her eyes. The quiet, broken girl who had walked into my dying son's nursery six months ago was gone. In her place stood a woman of unmatched grace and unbreakable resolve.

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I leaned forward, my fingers tracing the soft curve of her jawline. Her breath hitched slightly, but she didn't pull away.

"Then we will show them," I murmured, my thumb brushing against her lower lip. "We will show all of them what we built from the ashes."