Chapter 10 - The New Foundation
By late October, the lowcountry had finally lost its suffocating humidity, replaced by crisp, yellow autumn days that smelled of burning oak leaves and salty marsh air.
The Bellini estate looked different from the road.
The heavy black iron gates were still there, and the cameras still turned quietly on their brass mounts along the limestone walls, but the long gravel driveway was no longer empty.
On Saturday mornings, two red supply vans belonging to the Charleston Children's Health Initiative were parked near the old carriage house.
Inside the carriage house—which Roman had completely renovated over six weeks, tearing out the old stalls and replacing them with white walls, pine floors, and large sunny windows—three pediatric nurses and a physical therapist were working with children from low-income families across North Charleston.
The initiative was funded entirely by a new charitable trust created by Roman Bellini, administered jointly by Charles Vane's firm and a board of three community representatives—with Rachel Miller serving as the executive director.
In the nursery on the second floor of the main house, Nicholas was sitting on a thick woven rug, playing with three large wooden blocks. He was eight months old now, strong, chubby, with thick dark hair that curled at the back of his neck like his father's.
Sophie sat beside him, wearing a real, blue pediatric stethoscope—a gift from Dr. Sterling for her fifth birthday—which she kept wrapped carefully in a velvet case when she wasn't using it to inspect household objects.
Downstairs in the study, Roman sat behind his walnut desk.
The desk was no longer covered in emergency guardianship papers or grand jury subpoenas. There were two neat stacks of blue construction plans for a new health clinic in West Ashley, and a framed photograph resting near the brass lamp.
The photograph hadn't been there three months ago.
It showed Nicholas sitting on the wooden dock, laughing, with Sophie standing behind him wearing her giant striped hat, and Rachel standing beside Roman, her arm lightly resting against his sleeve while the sun set behind them over the marsh.
The heavy oak door opened, and Marco walked in.
He carried a single white envelope in his hand.
"Evelyn's lawyers sent the final release," Marco said, laying the envelope on the desk. "She’s withdrawing her claim to the trust administration permanently. In exchange, Charles agreed not to press charges regarding the July twentieth incident."
Roman didn't open the envelope. He simply nodded once. "And Victor Moretti?"
"Victor resigned from the terminal board on Tuesday," Marco said, a faint, rare smile touching his scarred cheek. "The new coalition chairman called Charles this morning. They want to extend our freight contracts for another ten years on our terms."
Roman stood up from his desk, walking over to the window that looked out toward the carriage house.
Outside, on the lawn beneath the live oak trees, Rachel was helping two nurses unload a box of new pediatric equipment from the back of a red van. She was wearing a beige sweater and dark jeans, her hair tied back in a loose knot, her face bright and laughing as she spoke to the driver.
"She’s good at it," Marco observed, standing three feet behind Roman’s shoulder.
"She’s better at it than anyone I’ve ever hired," Roman said softly.
"Evelyn’s lawyer asked Charles if you were going to marry her," Marco added offhandedly.
Roman turned his head, looking at his security chief. "What did Charles say?"
"Charles told him that Roman Bellini doesn't answer questions from people who charge by the hour," Marco said dryly.
Roman let out a short, quiet laugh—a sound that was becoming more and more common in the high-ceilinged rooms of the Bellini mansion.
May you like
"Tell Charles he’s getting a raise," Roman said.
He stepped around his desk, walked out of the study, and went down the wide marble staircase toward the rear terrace, where the autumn sun was warming the stone tiles.
