Chapter 8 - THE WOMAN ROMAN COULD NOT BLAME
Bianca contacted Celeste shortly after Lucia’s second birthday.
She sent one message through Rebecca.
I owe you an apology. I will not contact you again if you do not want it.
Celeste ignored the message for two weeks.
Then she agreed to a phone call.
Roman did not learn about it until later.
Bianca’s voice trembled at first.
“I knew he was married.”
Celeste remained silent.
“He told me you were living separate lives in the same penthouse.”
“That was false.”
“I know.”
“He told me the pregnancy was planned before the marriage failed and that you understood he wanted out.”
“Also false.”
“I know.”
Bianca began crying.
Celeste did not comfort her.
“I accepted what he said because asking questions might have forced me to leave,” Bianca continued. “I told myself he was trapped.”
“He told you that often?”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
“Everyone. His companies. His family. You. The baby.”
Celeste closed her eyes.
“Did Matteo ever contact you?”
“No. I met him twice at restaurants with Roman. He barely spoke to me.”
“Did anyone pay you?”
“No.”
“Ask you to keep Roman distracted?”
“No.”
Bianca sounded offended, then ashamed.
“I did not need payment to make a selfish decision.”
The answer was honest.
“Why contact me now?” Celeste asked.
“Because when the investigation became public, people said Matteo arranged the affair to destroy Roman. That lets me pretend I was a tool instead of a participant.”
“And?”
“I was not a tool.”
“No.”
“I was an adult who wanted his story to be true.”
Celeste looked toward Lucia’s toys scattered across the living room.
“I accept that you apologized,” she said.
“That is more than I deserve.”
“It is not forgiveness.”
“I understand.”
The call ended.
That evening, Celeste told Roman.
He listened without interrupting.
“She said you described yourself as trapped.”
Roman’s face changed.
“Yes.”
“Did you feel trapped by me?”
He thought before answering.
“No.”
“By Lucia?”
“No.”
“Then why say it?”
“Because calling myself trapped made selfishness sound like escape.”
Celeste looked at him for a long time.
“You could have blamed Matteo.”
“For the affair?”
“Yes.”
“I wanted to for ten minutes after I read your letter.”
“What stopped you?”
“You had already written the answer.”
Roman looked toward the nursery.
“Matteo exploited the man I chose to become. He did not create him.”
Celeste’s eyes filled.
“Thank you.”
Roman nodded.
Their relationship remained focused on parenting.
They ate dinner together occasionally because Lucia liked throwing pasta at both of them. They attended pediatric appointments and birthday parties. Roman never assumed shared meals meant romantic progress.
When Lucia turned two, he asked Celeste to dinner without her.
“A date?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“No.”
Roman nodded.
Celeste waited.
“You’re not asking why?”
“I know why.”
“Tell me.”
“Because behaving better for two years does not erase what I did.”
“That may be part of it.”
“And because you may simply not want me.”
“Yes.”
The answer visibly hurt.
Roman accepted it.
He did not ask again.
Six months passed.
Roman continued therapy, parenting, and corporate reform.
He sold two businesses whose operations remained too entangled with criminal associates to separate safely. He closed another.
The losses were significant.
He made no speech about sacrifice.
The businesses had benefited him for years.
Ending them was responsibility, not heroism.
He established independent leadership across the legitimate companies and removed the automatic expectation that Lucia would inherit control.
One evening, Celeste arrived at the penthouse and found Roman reading a picture book beside Lucia’s crib.
He changed the ending because Lucia insisted the dragon should apologize to the village.
“What happens after he says sorry?” Roman asked.
“He fixes houses,” Lucia answered.
“Does everyone forgive him?”
“Yes.”
Celeste entered.
“Not necessarily.”
Lucia frowned.
“Why?”
“Because an apology begins repair. It doesn’t finish it.”
Roman looked at her.
Lucia considered this and revised the story.
“The dragon fixes houses for a long time.”
“That’s better,” Celeste said.
A week later, she called Roman.
“Are you free Friday?”
“Yes.”
“Dinner?”
“With Lucia?”
“No.”
Roman became silent.
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Celeste almost smiled.
“Because you took no for an answer.”
Their first date lasted ninety minutes.
No expensive private restaurant.
No security-cleared rooftop.
A quiet neighborhood Italian place where nobody recognized Roman.
They discussed books, Lucia, and the strange experience of meeting each other after six years of marriage.
Roman did not ask whether she was coming home.
Celeste did not promise another date.
May you like
She called him three days later.
The second beginning grew slowly enough to become real.
