Chapter 15
One year after Warren’s conviction, Giulietta returned to the same hotel.
Not for a wedding.
Marconi Capital was holding its annual leadership conference there.
Naomi thought the choice was unnecessarily dramatic.
Giulietta thought avoiding the building forever would give one locked room too much power.
The bridal suite had been remodeled.
Different sofa.
Different vanity.
Different carpet.
Giulietta asked hotel management not to show it to her.
She did not need a tour.
At lunch, Daniel presented the final figures from the abandoned Hale joint venture.
The loss had been substantial.
Less than they originally feared.
More than enough for several relatives to remind Giulietta she could have preserved the investment if she had negotiated differently.
She no longer argued with them.
Some people measured every decision by what it cost.
Others measured it by what refusing to act would have cost later.
After the conference, Giulietta went upstairs to a private office Naomi had borrowed for the afternoon.
An envelope waited on the desk.
Prison correspondence.
From Preston.
Naomi stood near the window.
“You don’t have to read it.”
“I know.”
“He sent it through his lawyer. No request for a reply.”
Giulietta picked it up.
It was thicker than she expected.
“What does he want?”
“I didn’t read it.”
“Useful lawyer.”
“I have occasional moments.”
Giulietta turned the envelope over.
For a second she remembered Preston before the bridal suite.
Dinner in New York.
Late-night drives along Lake Michigan.
The way he could make her laugh when she was trying not to.
A relationship did not become imaginary simply because the person inside it eventually revealed something unforgivable.
That was one of the hardest truths she had learned.
Warren’s scheme was over.
Preston had admitted what he did.
The business trap had been exposed.
The men responsible had faced consequences.
Giulietta had rebuilt the parts of her own organization that relied too heavily on fear.
There was no unanswered factual mystery left.
Only one personal choice.
Did she ever want to know what Preston had found to say after losing his father’s approval, his freedom, and the woman he had once expected to marry?
Naomi moved toward the door.
“I’ll give you privacy.”
Giulietta looked at the envelope.
Then placed it inside the desk drawer.
Unopened.
Not destroyed.
Not forgiven.
Not yet anything.
She closed the drawer and stood.
Outside, her security detail waited in the hallway.
This time the door was already open.
May you like
Giulietta walked through it without looking back.
Whether she would ever read Preston’s letter was the only part of that wedding she had not decided.
