Chapter 4 - THE MAFIA BOSS COULD HAVE KEPT HIS FORTUNE BY BURYING THE TRUTH HIS MOTHER’S VEIL EXPOSED—INSTEAD HE GAVE UP HIS EMPIRE AND TOLD CORA HE WOULD RATHER LOSE EVERYTHING THAN BECOME THE MAN SHE ONCE ALMOST MARRIED
Drake Holloway lost three hundred and twelve million dollars in eighteen months.
Newspapers called it the collapse of an empire.
Cora called it accounting.
Properties were sold.
Victims were compensated.
Companies were restructured.
Several executives were indicted.
Drake testified before a federal grand jury.
He admitted crimes of his own.
Not murder.
Not trafficking.
But extortion.
Bribery.
Financial manipulation.
Acts he had once justified as necessary for survival.
His lawyers negotiated.
Drake accepted responsibility.
He received a sentence of eighteen months.
Cora was furious.
Not at the sentence.
At him.
"You knew this might happen."
"Yes."
"And didn't tell me."
"I didn't want you worrying."
She stared.
Drake immediately understood.
"Oh."
"Yes. Oh."
"I was trying to protect you."
"Congratulations. You just became Theodore for thirty seconds."
That hurt.
Cora did not apologize.
Drake sat down.
"You're right."
"I know."
"I should have told you."
"Yes."
"I'm sorry."
Cora breathed.
"When do you surrender?"
"Monday."
Four days.
They spent them quietly.
No dramatic escape.
No secret wedding.
No promises to wait.
On Sunday night Drake asked:
"Will you?"
"Will I what?"
"Wait."
Cora looked at him.
"You don't get to ask that."
He nodded.
"You're right."
She took his hand.
"But I can choose it."
Drake looked up.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
"That doesn't mean my life stops for eighteen months."
"I don't want it to."
"Good."
Drake smiled.
Cora continued working.
Her career grew.
Museums sought her expertise.
She opened the Bennett Center for Textile Conservation using a grant from a legitimate charitable foundation unrelated to Drake.
That mattered to her.
She wanted something built with her own name.
Elena volunteered there.
Their friendship deepened.
One afternoon Elena watched Cora restore a nineteenth-century wedding dress.
"You love him."
Cora smiled.
"Unfortunately."
"He loves you."
"Also unfortunately."
Elena laughed.
Then became serious.
"He'll ask you to marry him."
"I know."
"What will you say?"
"I don't know."
Elena nodded.
"Good."
Cora looked at her.
"Good?"
"You should never marry because the answer feels inevitable."
Drake returned after fourteen months.
Cora met him outside.
He looked thinner.
Older.
Free.
He saw her.
Stopped.
Then waited.
Cora smiled.
She walked toward him.
Only then did Drake open his arms.
She entered them.
"Hello."
"Hello."
"You waited."
"I lived."
He smiled.
"Even better."
They did not move in together immediately.
Drake rented a townhouse.
Cora kept her apartment.
They dated.
Normal dates.
As normal as possible when half of Boston still whispered Drake Holloway's name.
They went to diners.
Museums.
A Red Sox game where Drake complained about the seats.
Cora refused to let him buy better ones.
He learned.
A year passed.
Then two.
Theodore returned to Boston once.
Cora encountered him at a museum gala.
He had changed.
Somewhat.
"I'm engaged," he said.
"Congratulations."
"She's a lawyer."
"Good."
"My mother hates her."
Cora laughed.
"Excellent sign."
Theodore smiled.
Then looked toward Drake.
"Are you marrying him?"
"Maybe."
"You love him?"
"Yes."
Theodore nodded.
"I did love you."
Cora believed him.
"I know."
"I just wasn't brave enough to love you when it cost me anything."
That was perhaps the most truthful thing Theodore had ever said.
Cora touched his arm.
"I hope you do better next time."
"So do I."
They parted without anger.
Three months later, Drake took Cora to St. Cecilia Church.
Empty.
Cora stopped.
"Why here?"
"Because this is where I met you."
"This is where my wedding imploded."
"Also memorable."
He led her toward the altar.
The restored veil lay across a pew.
Cora's heart began pounding.
Drake did not kneel.
Not yet.
"I've spent three years trying to decide how to ask you something without making it feel like an obligation."
Cora smiled.
"You could try words."
"I've heard good things."
He took a breath.
"I don't need you to marry me."
That surprised her.
"I don't need you to live in my house."
He continued.
"I don't need you to change your name."
Cora's eyes filled.
"I don't need children unless you want them. I don't need you to stop working. I don't need you to forgive every part of who I used to be."
His voice lowered.
"I just want the chance to build whatever life you freely choose to build with me."
Then he knelt.
"Cora Bennett, will you marry me?"
She cried.
Drake waited.
No pressure.
No audience.
No family glaring.
No five hundred guests.
Cora thought about Theodore.
Marguerite.
The ruined veil.
Her grandmother.
Elena.
Nathan.
Drake bleeding on a warehouse floor.
The fourteen months he had spent paying for crimes he could have hidden.
Then she looked at the man kneeling before her.
"Yes."
Drake exhaled.
Cora laughed.
"But—"
His face fell.
"There it is."
"One condition."
"Anything."
"We don't get married here."
Drake looked around.
"Thank God."
She laughed.
He stood and kissed her.
Six months later, invitations went out.
Only eighty people.
Jonah received the first.
Elena received the second.
Father Donovan received the third.
One invitation remained on Cora's desk.
Drake noticed.
"Who's that for?"
Cora looked at the name.
Marguerite Ashford.
Drake stared.
"Why?"
"Because I want her to see something."
"What?"
May you like
Cora smiled.
"That she didn't destroy it."
