Chapter 10 - ROMAN ASKED THE ONLY QUESTION THAT MATTERED
Roman proposed in the room where Camille found the ultrasound.
Not intentionally.
At least he claimed not.
Camille did not believe him.
Her childhood bedroom had been redecorated after the canceled wedding.
The dress gone.
Veil gone.
Trevor’s things long removed.
The room became a guest room again.
Roman came upstairs while Camille was sorting old books with her mother.
Diane left suspiciously quickly.
Camille narrowed her eyes.
“What did you do?”
Roman looked innocent.
Poorly.
“Nothing.”
“You look criminal.”
“That is an unfortunate baseline.”
She laughed.
Then noticed his hands.
Nervous.
Roman Vale.
Nervous.
“Roman.”
“Yes?”
“What is happening?”
He sat on the edge of the bed.
Not kneeling.
Not yet.
“Do you remember the first time I came here?”
“You stood outside the gate and terrified my neighborhood.”
“I was polite.”
“You brought armed men.”
“They stayed outside.”
“Very polite.”
He smiled.
Then serious.
“You were holding an ultrasound.”
Camille’s chest tightened.
“Yes.”
“You thought your life had ended.”
“In one way.”
“You were right.”
That surprised her.
Roman continued.
“That life ended.”
Camille sat beside him.
He looked toward the closet where the wedding dress once hung.
“I don’t want to tell you everything happened for a reason.”
“Good.”
“I hate when people say that.”
“So do I.”
“Trevor hurt you.”
“Yes.”
“Noah died.”
“Yes.”
“Serena suffered.”
“Yes.”
“My family did things I wish I could undo.”
“Yes.”
His eyes held hers.
“None of that became good because we met.”
Camille’s throat tightened.
“But?”
“But we are allowed to make something good after.”
Her eyes filled.
Roman reached inside his jacket.
Small box.
Camille laughed through tears.
“You really do keep dramatic things in there.”
“I tried carrying it in my pants pocket. It looked suspicious.”
She laughed harder.
He opened the box.
Ring.
Not enormous.
Elegant.
Oval diamond.
Thin band.
Exactly her taste.
Camille stared.
“You asked Nadia.”
“Yes.”
“Traitor.”
“She enjoyed the assignment too much.”
Roman did not kneel yet.
Instead he said:
“I want to ask two questions.”
“That seems dangerous.”
“First.”
He took a breath.
“Do you want marriage?”
Camille’s eyes filled.
Not Will you marry me?
First:
Do you want marriage?
After Trevor planned to trap her inside one before giving her information, Roman asked whether the institution itself still belonged in her future.
Camille thought.
“Yes.”
Roman’s shoulders lowered slightly.
“Second.”
Now he knelt.
Camille cried.
“Do you want it with me?”
Simple.
No destiny.
No claim.
No permission from her father.
Choice.
“Yes.”
Roman closed his eyes.
Relief.
“Say it again.”
She laughed.
“Yes.”
He put the ring on her finger.
Then stood.
Camille kissed him.
Minutes later, Nadia burst through the door.
“I knew it!”
Camille pulled back.
“You were listening?”
“Your mother and I had an arrangement.”
Diane appeared behind her crying.
Roman looked offended.
“I was promised privacy.”
Nadia shrugged.
“You date women with friends.”
Consequences.
Serena arrived that evening with baby Noah.
Thomas opened champagne.
One bottle.
Camille laughed when she saw it.
The canceled wedding had left 147 bottles.
Her parents donated most.
Thomas saved one.
“For the right engagement.”
Camille cried.
Roman looked toward Thomas.
“Was that emotionally manipulative?”
“Yes.”
“Effective.”
“Yes.”
They toasted.
No wedding date immediately.
Camille refused.
“We just got engaged.”
Roman nodded.
Three months passed.
Then six.
Planning happened slowly.
No surprise contracts.
Every vendor booked jointly.
Camille reviewed every document herself.
Roman once joked:
“You read the florist agreement like a merger.”
She stared.
He corrected:
“Very wise.”
The wedding would be small.
Eighty people.
At Camille’s parents’ house.
Same backyard.
That shocked Diane.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“After last time?”
“Especially after last time.”
Camille did not want Trevor to own the garden.
Or roses.
Or wedding mornings.
Places belonged to those who continued living in them.
Serena would stand with Camille.
Not as bridesmaid exactly.
As family.
Nadia was maid of honor.
Thomas and Diane invited no one Camille did not personally want.
Roman invited surprisingly few people.
“Where is your enormous mafia council?”
“Not invited.”
“Why?”
“I would like our wedding to avoid indictments.”
“Romantic.”
Roman’s legitimate businesses continued restructuring.
Vale Shipping entered external compliance monitoring.
Several subsidiaries were sold.
Roman remained wealthy.
Less powerful in certain shadows.
He seemed relieved.
One night, six weeks before the wedding, he told Camille:
“I used to think power meant being the person everyone needed.”
“And now?”
“Being needed is exhausting.”
“Profound.”
“I pay a therapist.”
“Good investment.”
He smiled.
Then looked at her ring.
“Are you scared?”
“Yes.”
“About me?”
“Some.”
He nodded.
No offense.
“About marriage?”
“Yes.”
Another nod.
“Want to stop?”
Camille stared.
“No.”
“Want to postpone?”
“No.”
“Want to run?”
“Not tonight.”
Roman smiled.
“Good.”
She touched his face.
“You?”
“Terrified.”
“Good.”
He laughed.
The night before their wedding, Camille slept in her childhood bedroom.
Again.
No groom in the house.
Her rule.
The closet door stood open.
No dress hanging there.
Her new gown remained downstairs in a garment room.
Camille sat on the bed.
Nadia beside her.
“Déjà vu?”
“A little.”
“Any mystery medical documents?”
“None.”
“Check pockets.”
Camille threw a pillow.
They laughed.
Then Camille grew quiet.
“I loved Trevor.”
“I know.”
“Is it weird that I’m thinking about him tonight?”
“No.”
“What if that means something?”
“It means you have a brain.”
Nadia leaned back.
“Memories are not instructions.”
Camille smiled.
Same idea as before.
Feelings did not get to drive automatically.
At 10:18, her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Her heart stopped.
She stared.
Nadia sat up.
“What?”
Camille opened it.
A photograph.
For one terrifying second, she thought the past had returned.
Then she saw Serena.
Smiling.
Holding baby Noah.
Message:
ROMAN IS PACING. PLEASE MARRY HIM TOMORROW BEFORE HE WEARS THROUGH MY FLOOR.
Camille laughed so hard she cried.
Then another message arrived.
From Roman.
I am not pacing.
Serena:
HE IS.
Camille typed:
Go to sleep.
Roman:
Yes, ma’am.
Camille put down the phone.
Twenty months earlier, she had found a stranger’s ultrasound hours before marrying a man who had built a second life out of lies.
Tomorrow she would walk toward a different man.
Not because he promised never to frighten her.
Not because his past was perfect.
May you like
Because he had learned that truth had to arrive before vows.
And because every time he asked her to stay, he left enough room for no.
