Chapter 7 - LUCA DID NOT GET TO CALL REBECCA HIS SAVIOR, AND REBECCA DID NOT GET TO CALL HIM HER PROJECT
Their first coffee lasted forty-three minutes.
Rebecca knew because she had parking for one hour.
Good.
Luca noticed the old sedan.
“You still drive that?”
There.
Bad start.
Rebecca stared.
He corrected.
“That sounded like an offer to replace it.”
“It did.”
“I meant admiration.”
“Worse.”
Good.
He laughed.
Real.
Then:
“How many miles?”
“One hundred eighty-two thousand.”
“Impressive.”
There.
Better.
They talked about:
her new job,
his monitor,
Elena,
nothing about Beatrice at first.
Then Luca said:
“She wrote me.”
Rebecca waited.
Not:
what did she say?
His information.
He continued:
“She gets out in three months.”
There.
“How do you feel?”
“I don’t know.”
Good.
No demand to reconcile.
“Do you plan to see her?”
“I plan to decide after she’s out.”
There.
Good.
Not before.
Then Teresa.
“I visit once a month.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“Because you want to?”
“Some months.”
There.
Honest.
“Other months because she’s seventy-five and guilt has excellent attendance.”
Good.
Rebecca smiled.
“Therapy?”
He stared.
“Cruel.”
“Answer.”
“Yes.”
There.
Good.
Then Luca asked:
“Are you allowed to ask former patients about therapy?”
“I’m not your nurse.”
There.
The words landed differently now.
Good.
Then:
“Are you dating anyone?”
Rebecca smiled.
“Normal question?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Good.
“You?”
“No.”
There.
Then money.
The check arrived.
Wait—no. He didn't send one. Good.
Instead he asked:
“Would your hospital take a grant for medication safety?”
Rebecca’s face changed.
There.
He saw.
“I’m asking before doing anything.”
Good.
“Why?”
“Because the Romano Foundation is changing its health portfolio.”
“Because of me?”
“Partly because of what happened.”
Danger.
Rebecca shook her head.
“No direct grant to my department while we’re doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Coffee.”
There.
Good.
He smiled.
“Understood.”
“If the foundation runs an open process and I’m recused, that’s different.”
“Fine.”
Good.
No money through romance.
Second coffee happened because Luca asked.
Rebecca said yes.
Third:
she asked.
Good.
No pursuit script.
Then Beatrice left custody.
No cameras arranged by family.
Her attorney drove her to a transitional apartment.
She had:
probation conditions,
identity-document process,
therapy,
employment assistance.
Her legal identity problem was complicated.
The court did not simply “bring Beatrice back to life.”
There.
Birth record existed.
Death record invalidated through legal process.
New identification required coordinated agencies.
Boring.
Hard.
Good.
Luca offered money.
Beatrice said no.
Then accepted one thing:
payment of legal fees from independent family historical-harm fund to correct the false death record.
There.
Process.
Not brother gift.
Good.
Elena met Beatrice first.
Neutral office.
Therapist present.
Why therapist?
Not to force forgiveness.
To structure.
Elena said:
“You tied my hands.”
Beatrice nodded.
“Yes.”
“You wore my clothes.”
“Yes.”
“You sat beside Luca like me.”
“Yes.”
“I cannot make that smaller because you were desperate.”
“I know.”
There.
Good.
Then Beatrice said:
“You kept me outside his life for twenty-five years.”
Elena closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
There.
Both.
Not equivalent conduct.
Both harm.
They did not hug.
Good.
They agreed:
one phone call per month if both wanted.
No daily sisterhood.
Fine.
Luca met Beatrice three months later.
Public lawyer conference room at first.
He stared at her.
Same face as Elena.
Older differently.
Small scar near left brow.
He said:
“Which name do you want me to use?”
There.
Good.
“Beatrice.”
Not Alessia.
“Okay.”
Then:
“Do you expect me to call you my sister?”
“No.”
Good.
“What do you expect?”
Beatrice looked at him.
“To not be dead on paper.”
There.
That was fair.
Luca nodded.
They talked about:
legal records,
Alessia’s grave in Geneva,
St. Vincent’s claims fund.
Not childhood.
They did not share one.
Good.
Months later, Beatrice asked:
“Can I see the house?”
Luca said:
“No.”
There.
Her face changed.
“Why?”
“You drugged me there and locked Elena there.”
Specific.
“I am not ready.”
Good.
Beatrice nodded.
That boundary lasted two years.
Fine.
Meanwhile, Rebecca and Luca dated.
Slow.
Public places.
No Romano estate for first year.
No bodyguard inside.
Security outside when risk assessment required.
Rebecca kept:
job,
apartment,
car.
Luca did not secretly fix the car.
Good.
One evening it finally died.
Transmission.
Rebecca called him.
“My car is dead.”
He asked:
“Do you want sympathy, a ride, or a transportation plan?”
There.
She laughed.
“Ride.”
Good.
He sent? Better he personally picked her up. Fine.
He drove.
No purchase.
Then Rebecca bought a used hybrid herself.
Luca came with her only because she asked him to help compare warranties?
Does he know cars? Maybe. She asked Nisha instead.
Good.
Luca was not good at every problem.
Healthy.
Then he made one mistake.
Rebecca complained:
memory-care facility had billed her mother’s estate incorrectly after death.
Luca said:
“That’s outrageous.”
Two days later, a Romano attorney emailed the facility.
There.
Rebecca went cold.
She called.
“Did you authorize this?”
Silence.
“Yes.”
There.
No lie.
“I thought I was helping.”
Old sentence.
Luca heard it too.
His face, even through phone, must have changed.
Rebecca said:
“You turned my complaint into your action.”
“Yes.”
“You used a lawyer I did not ask for.”
“Yes.”
There.
“Fix it.”
“How?”
“Withdraw the contact. Tell them I did not authorize representation. Then do nothing else.”
Good.
He did.
Immediately.
No threat to attorney.
Then they took a month apart.
There.
Not dramatic breakup.
Boundary consequence.
Luca said:
“I understand.”
Rebecca answered:
“I need to see whether you understand when it costs you access.”
There.
Good.
One month.
No messages.
No flowers.
No assistant.
Then Rebecca texted:
Coffee?
There.
Her choice.
At coffee, Luca said:
“I turned concern into jurisdiction.”
Rebecca blinked.
“That sounds like therapy language.”
“It was.”
Good.
Then:
“I am sorry.”
Specific.
No excuse.
Rebecca nodded.
Not instant absolution.
They continued.
Slowly.
Because trust is not built by never failing.
It is built by what happens after failure.
That was true for families.
For medicine.
For love too.
The first year of dating included one question Rebecca asked earlier than Luca expected.
“What do your security people know about me?”
There.
He paused.
Good question.
He answered:
public records,
past patient-care connection,
basic threat assessment after the hospital case.
Rebecca’s face changed.
“When?”
“During the active investigation.”
“Did I consent?”
“No.”
There.
Context:
she had become a witness connected to the family.
Security believed risk assessment necessary.
Still.
What had they gathered?
Address.
Vehicle.
Workplace.
No financial deep dive.
No medical records.
Good.
Rebecca said:
“I want the file.”
Luca hesitated.
“Security material—”
“I want the information about me.”
There.
Good.
Counsel reviewed.
Rebecca received:
her personal data,
source categories,
retention period,
with security-sensitive third-party details redacted.
There.
She found:
one old address wrong,
one employer date wrong,
her husband’s death public record.
It felt invasive.
Because it was.
Even if purpose had been safety.
They changed policy:
non-employee personal associates received notice when a non-emergency security file was opened about them, unless law or active threat justified delay.
Good.
Data minimization.
Retention limits.
Correction process.
No:
powerful family quietly keeping dossiers forever.
Luca admitted:
“I would have thought that was ridiculous five years ago.”
Rebecca answered:
“You used to think a one-page settlement memo was enough.”
Fair.
Good.
Then Rebecca asked security to delete what no longer had lawful or safety need.
They did after counsel review.
Not everything:
incident evidence remained.
Specific.
Good.
This mattered because romance with a powerful person could not require surrendering privacy as entrance fee.
Luca learned that safety could exist with less information than his instincts wanted.
The first year of dating also forced Luca to disclose something Rebecca had not asked.
He still had private investigators on retainer.
Not for her.
Corporate litigation.
Threat assessment.
Family security.
Still.
He told her because:
“you should know what kind of infrastructure exists around me.”
There.
Good.
Rebecca asked:
“Can they investigate me without you knowing?”
Luca paused.
“Under some emergency protocols, yes.”
Danger.
They reviewed the rules with counsel.
Changed:
no non-emergency inquiry into spouse or partner without documented legal/safety basis and notice as soon as lawful.
Good.
Immediate threats remained exception.
Specific.
Rebecca said:
“I do not want safety theatre.”
“What does that mean?”
“Using the word safety to justify curiosity.”
There.
Luca nodded.
That sentence entered the written protocol.
Not because Rebecca owned security.
Because the principle was good.
The independent consultant added:
necessity,
proportionality,
retention limits.
Better.
Again:
romance did not replace professionals.
It simply exposed a place where power needed boundaries.
Before the first coffee after their month apart, Rebecca wrote one sentence in her notes app:
If I say yes because I feel guilty, it is not a yes I want.
There.
She deleted it later.
Did not need it.
But the exercise helped.
Luca was not the only one learning that boundaries had to survive discomfort.
Rebecca had spent a career being useful in emergencies.
Not every relationship needed an emergency to justify closeness.
May you like
Good.
And Rebecca wanted any future yes to belong completely to the present.
