Page 50 of Beautiful Evidence

She sits slowly, and I stay behind her, with one hand on the back of her chair and my fingertips brushing her shoulder.

He shifts in his chair, glancing briefly off-screen before refocusing. “I saw the transcript,” Gordo says. “I know what you did.” His head bobs in one continuous nod, and I shift my hand to her shoulder, squeezing it.

Alessia presses her lips together. Her voice stays level, but her hands fold together. “I didn’t really do it for you.”

Gordo's head drops slowly, but when he looks back up, something proud flickers in his expression. “I know.” He nods. “But you did it for the right reasons. You did it for family."

She doesn’t respond to him, but Gordo doesn’t push. He looks at her with a kind of softness not often seen in a man like him. “I’m proud of you. That’s all. I just wanted you to hear it.”

The screen goes black,Call endedflashing in bright white letters, and her hand rises to touch mine, still perched on her shoulder.She sets the phone down and exhales slowly. The air dusts my fingers as she turns to kiss my knuckles.

Behind us, Emilio leans against the doorframe, arms folded, his posture more reflective than guarded.

"You needed that?" I say quietly.

She nods, and her fingers curl around mine again. "I didn’t realize how much."

The terrace goes quiet except for the breeze shifting through the vines. She stands and wraps her arms around me.

I pull her closer. “Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.”

For the first time, I don’t feel like I’m protecting her. I feel like she’s standing beside me. Not as someone who needs rescuing, but as someone who belongs here. With me.

31

EPILOGUE: ALESSIA

The anchorman’s voice drifts from the small TV mounted above the stove and music plays in the kitchen—something Enzo is using his speaker and phone to play. I don’t pay close attention to what the anchorman is saying until I catch my own name. It’s quiet—tucked between mentions of the 416-bis case backlog and the upcoming elections—but it’s there. My name scrolls across the ticker, tied to discredited evidence and a procedural collapse. The charges tied to the investigation have been dismissed entirely.

I stare at the screen for a few seconds longer with my mug half-lifted in my hand. Then I take a sip of my tea and exhale slowly. The salty air slips in through the open windows, curling around my bare legs and stirring the hem of my robe.

Vincenzo hums behind me, moving between the stove and the fridge. He’s barefoot, shirtless, hair still damp from his morning swim. He cracks another egg against the skillet and tips it in with practiced ease.

“You hear that?” I ask, nodding toward the screen.

He glances over his shoulder. “Something about Bernardi?”

I lower the volume, then turn to face him fully. “The case collapsed. They’re blaming him for evidence tampering. Internal Affairs has launched an investigation.”

He slides a spatula under the eggs and flips them. “Hmm.” Am I wrong to love how amazing he looks in that pair of dark shorts with his hair mussed? Am I wrong to want to melt into his strength and be happy that the mess of my life has turned into something so amazing the past few months?

“Hmm?” I raise a brow. “That’s all you have to say?”

He shrugs, not even trying to look innocent. “I told you it’d work out.”

I cross my arms and lean against the counter. “Vincenzo.”

He doesn’t answer right away, just plates the eggs and adds a sprinkle of sea salt before sliding them onto the table. When he finally meets my eyes, there’s no smugness in his expression, just quiet satisfaction.

“You asked me to protect your name,” he says. “I did.”

“And how many strings did you pull?”

He picks up a slice of toast and bites into it. “Enough.”

I shake my head but I’m smiling. Months ago, I would’ve pressed harder. Would’ve demanded every detail, every contact, every ethical boundary he danced over. Now I let it go, because when your filthy rich boyfriend invites you to a week on the Spanish coast, you don't question how he makes his money.

I let it go because we’re here. Because it’s over. Because the sun spills through the curtain-less windows and the world, for once, doesn’t feel like it’s chasing us.

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