Todos los capítulos de Married to my Fiancé Uncle: Capítulo 91 - Capítulo 95

ELENA POVSalvatore Brandi died in his sleep in the spring of the seventh year, quietly, in the same bed where he had slept for fifty-eight years, with Rosa asleep beside him and the window open to the smell of rain. She told me later that she woke at dawn to find him smiling. She said she knew at once, and that she lay there for a long time, holding his hand, before she let herself cry.The funeral was held at Vincenzo's.It was Luca's idea, and Rosa's insistence, and it was the only place that made sense. The restaurant was closed for the day, the doors hung with white ribbon, the long mahogany bar draped in black cloth. Along the wall, beneath the framed photograph of the grinning young man with the cigarette behind his ear, a second photograph had been placed beside it, Salvatore at seventy, in his dark suit, seated at the window table with a plate of risotto in front of him and a look of ferocious, unwilling contentment.By noon the room was full. They kept coming. Doormen a

ELENA POVThe letter came in a plain envelope with a foreign stamp and a return address I did not recognize. The handwriting, though, I knew at once. It was the sharp, upright script I had last seen on the engraved invitation to a dinner where she had stood up and announced a lie.I read it twice at my desk in the studio, with the afternoon light slanting across the worktable, and then I sat for a long time with the page in my hands before I carried it home to Damien.Emily Moretti wrote with her customary precision, and with none of her old polish. She was living in a small seaside town two hundred miles up the coast. Her father had died the winter before. The family had lost nearly everything in the years after the scandal, and she had spent a decade rebuilding herself as a bookkeeper for a fishing cooperative, which she described, with a flash of the old dry humor, as the most humbling arithmetic of her life. She had a son. He was thirteen. His name was Adrian.I am not asking

ELENA POVMarco Reyes retired from the police department in November after twenty-two years on the force, and the department threw him a party that he spent the first hour trying to escape. They held it in the banquet room of a dull hotel near the courthouse, with a sheet cake, a banner, and a slideshow set to music that made even the stoic old sergeants dab at their eyes. I watched him standing near the exit in his dress uniform, rigid as a coat rack, accepting handshakes with a faint, hunted look, and I thought that he had never looked so ill at ease in all the years I had known him."He hates this," Priya murmured at my elbow."He'll survive it.""I told him if he left before the cake, I'd hold it against him for the rest of his life." She smiled, and I noticed, not for the first time, the faint, new softness in her face when she looked in his direction.I had suspected it for a while. It had started, I thought, at the gender reveal for Marianne, when I had found the two of them