Chapter Fifteen: Bond of the Past
The silence in the sun-drenched conservatory was thick, a fragile truce held in place by Maria Madden's graceful welcome. My hand was still in hers, Adrian's grip firm on my other. William Madden stood a few paces away, his initial storm of fury banked into a simmering, wary acceptance.
"There is another parent who must be informed," William stated, his voice now clipped, bureaucratic. The Prime Minister was reasserting himself over the frustrated father. "This cannot remain a secret between these walls. It is a matter of… familial diplomacy."
Adrian's hand tightened around mine. "I'll go with you. To explain."
"No," William said, a finality in the syllable. "This requires a… delicate touch. From one parent to another. You have done enough 'explaining' for a lifetime." He turned his gaze to me. "Your mother's address, Arisha."
A fresh wave of dread washed over me. The thought of William Madden's imposing presence on our humble doorstep, delivering this news, was terrifying. But Adrian gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. It was the right thing to do. The honorable thing.
"I'll take you," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
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The drive to our apartment was conducted in a silence louder than any argument. William sat in the back of the sedan, his profile etched against the passing cityscape, deep in thought. I sat beside the driver, my stomach a tight knot.
When the car pulled up to our modest building, I saw the curtain in our living room window twitch. My mother had been watching.
She opened the door before we could knock. Her eyes, wide with a confused apprehension, went from my anxious face to the tall, impeccably dressed man beside me. She recognized him instantly from countless news broadcasts. The blood drained from her face.
"Mrs. Rossi," William began, his voice surprisingly gentle, devoid of its earlier thunder. "My name is William Madden. May we speak inside?"
Wordlessly, she stepped back, ushering us into the small living room that still smelled of lavender and old books. She did not sit. She stood before my father's photograph as if drawing strength from it.
"I have come," William said, standing with a solemn dignity that somehow made our cramped space feel smaller, "because my son has taken a significant step. A step that involves your daughter." He took a steadying breath. "Adrian and Arisha were married yesterday in a civil ceremony."
The air left the room. My mother's hand flew to her mouth, a stifled gasp escaping. Her eyes, filled with a storm of betrayal, hurt, and fear, locked onto mine. "Married? Ieri? Without… without my blessing? Without even telling me?" Her voice broke on the last word, crumbling into a whisper of sheer pain. "Arisha… cuore mio… how could you?"
Tears streamed down my face. "Mama, I'm so sorry. It wasn't to hurt you. It was to protect it… to protect us from the noise…"
She shook her head, not hearing, lost in the shock. She turned to William, her posture folding into one of profound, mortified apology. "Mr. Madden… Prime Minister… I am so sorry. My daughter… she is young, she is foolish. This is a mistake. We are not… we are not of your world. This cannot be. Please, forgive her foolishness. We will fix this. There must be a way to… to undo it." She was babbling, her English slipping, her dignity shattered by the magnitude of what she perceived as my catastrophic overreach.
William Madden watched her, and for the first time, his stern expression softened into something akin to pity, then deep respect. He raised a hand, stopping her flow of apologies.
"Mrs. Rossi, please. There is no need for apologies. The 'foolishness,' as you put it, was entirely my son's. The courage, I suspect, was your daughter's." He took a step closer, his voice dropping. "And as for not being of our world… let me introduce myself properly. My name is William Madden. But before I was any of those titles, I was a student at King's College. And my best friend there, my brother in all but blood, was a fiery, brilliant, impossibly honest young man named Elias Rossi."
The world stopped.
My mother froze, her tear-filled eyes widening in disbelief. "E-Elias?"
A faint, nostalgic smile touched William's lips. "Elias. With his big ideas and his bigger heart. He talked endlessly about a beautiful, fierce girl back home named Jiyana." He looked at my mother, really looked at her, as if seeing the ghost of the girl in the woman before him. "You are Jiyana."
My mother nodded, trembling. "You… you knew my Elias?"
"He was the best of us," William said, his voice thick with a sudden, unexpected emotion. "After graduation, he moved west for a business venture. We promised to stay in touch. Life… and my career… swallowed me. I lost track. I always meant to find him." His gaze shifted to the photograph on the shelf, and his face fell. "I heard whispers, years later, of a bankruptcy, a betrayal… but I never knew it was him. I never knew…" He looked back at my mother, genuine pain in his eyes. "Jiyana, I am so sorry. A heart attack, they said?"
My mother could only nod, fresh tears falling for a different, older grief, now shared with this stranger from my father's past.
William's jaw tightened, the politician's steel returning, but now focused on a new target. "The business partner. The one who betrayed him. What was his name?"
My mother whispered the name, a name that had been a curse in our household for years.
William's eyes turned to ice. He gave a single, sharp nod. "Consider it done. He will face justice. For Elias." It was not a platitude. It was a vow, a debt acknowledged and accepted.
He then turned his attention back to the present, to the two stunned women before him. "Now. About this marriage." He looked at my mother, his expression firm but kind. "There will be no 'undoing' it. My son, for all his recklessness, has chosen a woman of strength and integrity, the daughter of the finest man I ever knew. That is not a mistake. It is a legacy."
He looked at me, then back to my mother. "The secret ends now. The hiding is over. We will do this properly. We will host a wedding. A real one. To celebrate this union, and to honor the memory of Elias Rossi."
That night, I did not return to my old room. At William's quiet insistence and my mother's shell-shocked, consenting nod, I went back to the Madden estate with Adrian.
I did not sleep in a guest room.
I stayed in his bedroom. As his wife.
As we lay together in the dark, the enormity of the day settling around us, he pulled me close, his lips against my hair. "My father is already planning the wedding. A big one. Soon."
I nestled closer, the chain with my ring now feeling not like a secret, but like a promise waiting to be fully claimed. The road ahead was still daunting, but the two worlds that had been pulling me apart—my mother's and Adrian's—had not collided in destruction. They had connected through a bridge built long ago by my father. A bridge named friendship, now strong enough to carry the weight of our new, unexpected love.