Chapter 57 Retail Therapy and Reputation Management
Valentina
Alessio ordered the steak. Rare. Of course.
I sipped my sparkling water, lips tinted red, hair curled just enough to look like I hadn’t tried too hard. I wore a fitted cream blouse, soft and elegant, tucked into high-waisted slacks that hugged my hips just right—refined, modest, deadly.
We were seated in a corner booth at one of the finest restaurants outside the estate. No guards. No watching eyes. Just the two of us, and finally, no listening walls.
Alessio leaned back, swirling his wine. “I saw it.”
I tilted my head. “Saw what?”
“The recording you made. The fight between Luca and Arianna. And the plane footage.” His eyes glinted with quiet steel. “I knew something was off. I just didn’t have proof. Now I do.”
I took another sip, letting the silence stretch before answering. “I thought you should know. I didn’t want to interfere… just document what I heard.”
“You did more than that. You confirmed what I’ve suspected for months.” He set down his glass. “Luca won’t get away with it.”
“And Arianna?”
“She’ll feel it too. They’re both being cut off. Grounded, if you will. No access to family funds for the next month. For those two?” He smirked. “Might as well be death.”
I smiled, the edges sharp. “That should certainly put a strain on their happy little union.”
“Exactly the point,” Alessio said, dabbing the corners of his mouth with his napkin. “And you, my dear, have a marvelous instinct for when to play your cards.”
I glanced out the window, sunlight catching on my earrings. “We do what we must.”
“We do.” He leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. “Now how about we put on a show?”
My brow arched. “A show?”
“Retail therapy,” he said with a wink. “Let’s return to the house with arms full of designer bags. Remind the little leeches what they’re missing out on. After all, what’s punishment without a little sting?”
⸻
Three boutiques and a few thousand dollars later, we walked into the front doors of the estate like we were returning from Paris Fashion Week.
Alessio carried four bags in one hand and a garment box in the other. I had two in each hand, plus a clutch tucked under my arm. Heads turned. Of course they did.
We were laughing. Loudly. Deliberately.
Arianna was already in the entryway when we stepped through the doors. She rushed forward like a spider sensing vibrations.
“Oh, Alessio, there you are. I was looking for you.” Her voice was sweet—fake honey dripping over acid.
And then she saw me.
Her eyes narrowed just slightly before widening again, a performance in real time. “Looks like you two went shopping.”
Alessio gave her a fatherly smile. “Yes. We had lunch first, then decided some retail therapy was in order.”
She blinked. “I would’ve loved to go with you.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Nonsense. You’re about to have a baby. You need to be resting, not walking around boutiques. Besides…” He glanced at her stomach, then back up. “I believe you and Luca have some things to discuss. My guess is he hasn’t filled you in on our meeting earlier.”
Arianna’s smile cracked. “I—I’ll go find him.”
“I think you should.”
She turned and left, heels clicking a little too fast.
I strolled upstairs at a comfortable pace, letting the moment sink in, one designer label at a time.
⸻
Back in my suite, I kicked off my shoes and dropped the bags by the closet. My cheeks still ached slightly from smiling through lunch and shopping, but it was worth it. Every bag we carried had cut into Luca’s pride like a blade.
A soft knock at the door.
“Come in.”
Carol stepped in and paused at the sight of the bags. “Well now, looks like someone had a good day.”
I grinned. “Just keeping up appearances.”
She moved to help me unpack. I handed her a few of the boxes, watching her carefully hang up each item in the walk-in closet. Her hands were practiced, respectful. Loyal.
Exactly the kind of woman I’d want running my house one day.
And if everything went to plan?
It would be my house.
——
By the time dinner rolled around, Matteo still hadn’t returned.
Carol popped in to ask if she should bring up a tray, but I told her no. I needed to stretch my legs, clear my mind, and breathe some air that didn’t smell like Chanel and stale entitlement.
I slipped on a long cardigan and wrapped a heavy blanket around my shoulders. A half-finished book under one arm, a wine glass and an open bottle of red in the other. No guards, no shadows, no performance.
The garden was a sprawling maze of clipped hedges and moonlit pathways, nearly silent except for the wind teasing the leaves. My heels clicked softly against the cobblestone as I made my way toward the back of the estate—the part no one really wandered anymore unless they were bored or lost.
But I knew exactly where I was going.
That willow tree.
The one I found the first time I stumbled across this garden, drawn in by the ivy-covered arch and the faint scent of jasmine in the air. That tree had called to me, with its long, trailing limbs like a curtain against the world. A sanctuary. A secret.
And just beneath it, the weathered lounge chair still waited—half-draped in dappled shadows and the glow of twilight.
I curled up into the chair, nestling the blanket tighter around me. Poured a glass. Opened the book. But I didn’t read.
Not really.
My eyes skimmed the page while my mind kept drifting. Back to Alessio’s words at lunch. Back to Luca’s face when he realized his leash had been yanked. Back to Arianna pretending not to feel the world shift beneath her stilettos.
And Matteo…
Where was he?
Still out on business. Still out of reach. Still a puzzle she hadn’t quite solved.
I swirled the wine slowly in my glass and glanced up through the willow’s veil of branches. The moon was rising, bright and round and knowing. Watching. Waiting.
If only the stars could talk.
Because what I was doing—what I was planning—it wasn’t just revenge anymore.
It was evolution.
And soon, the whole world would know it.
.