Massimo tried to send me away the next morning.
Not to my apartment.
Not to Boston.
Out of Massachusetts.
Possibly out of the country.
“I have a house in Montreal.”
“No.”
“New York.”
“No.”
“London.”
I stared at him.
“Massimo.”
“What?”
“I have class on Tuesday.”
He looked at me as though I'd lost my mind.
“Someone threatened to cripple you.”
“And my professor threatened to fail me if I miss another clinical seminar.”
“Tessa.”
“What?”
“You're impossible.”
“Good. Now do your exercises.”
He didn't.
Instead, Massimo paced.
Paced.
That word still amazed me.
He used a cane.
His gait was uneven.
His left leg dragged slightly when he was tired.
But he was walking.
The same man who had barely moved his foot seven weeks earlier now crossed the library under his own power.
He hated that I wasn't properly impressed.
“You're not watching.”
“I've watched you walk for forty minutes.”
“Two months ago, you'd have thrown a parade.”
“Two months ago, you couldn't get out of bed without insulting three people.”
“I've improved.”
“Debatable.”
He stopped in front of me.
“Tessa.”
I looked up.
“I need you to understand something.”
His voice was serious now.
“I can survive being hurt.”
“I know.”
“I can't survive watching someone hurt you because of me.”
That silenced me.
He continued.
“I thought losing my legs was the worst thing that could happen.”
His hand tightened around the cane.
“Then you came here.”
I swallowed.
“That doesn't sound romantic.”
“It isn't.”
He moved closer.
“It's terrifying.”
I understood.
Because I felt the same.
The problem was, loving—or whatever this was—with Massimo meant accepting the parts of his life I couldn't fix with therapy.
The danger.
The family.
The past.
“You can't protect me from everything,” I said.
“I know.”
“You can't decide for me.”
“I’m trying to learn that.”
I smiled faintly.
“Slow learner.”
“Terrible teacher.”
I kissed him before he could argue.
For three days, nothing happened.
Then Luca found the connection.
Felix Orsini had received money from a company linked to Adrian Pascale.
Massimo's cousin.
The name changed him.
“No.”
Luca placed the documents on the table.
“It's him.”
Massimo stared.
Adrian had grown up with him.
They had attended school together.
Worked together.
Massimo had trusted him with parts of the family organization.
“He visited me in the hospital,” Massimo said.
Luca nodded.
“I know.”
“He brought flowers.”
I watched the realization settle over him.
Adrian hadn't simply wanted Massimo weakened.
He had wanted to stand beside him afterward.
Pretending to care.
“You can't confront him alone,” Luca said.
Massimo looked at me.
“I’m not.”
That evening, Adrian arrived at the estate.
I wasn't supposed to be anywhere near the meeting.
Naturally, I was upstairs behind a locked door with two guards outside.
For once, I didn't argue.
I heard voices below.
Nothing clear.
Then shouting.
A crash.
I stood.
One guard raised a hand.
“Stay inside.”
Another sound.
Then silence.
Five minutes later, Luca opened the door.
“It's over.”
“Massimo?”
“Fine.”
I ran downstairs.
Massimo stood in the study.
No wheelchair.
No cane.
Adrian sat across the room with two men beside him.
Nobody appeared injured.
But the atmosphere felt dangerous enough to cut.
Adrian looked at me.
“So that's her.”
Massimo stepped between us.
“Don't.”
Adrian smiled.
“You always were predictable.”
Massimo's voice was ice.
“You tried to kill me.”
“I tried to remove a problem.”
“You corrupted Felix.”
“He was already corrupt.”
“You threatened Tessa.”
Adrian shrugged.
“That got your attention.”
Massimo moved forward.
I grabbed his hand.
He stopped.
Adrian noticed.
His smile widened.
“There it is.”
“What?” I asked.
“His weakness.”
Massimo's fingers closed around mine.
I looked at Adrian.
“No.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not his weakness.”
The room became silent.
“I’m the reason he learned how strong he still is.”
Massimo looked at me.
Adrian laughed.
“Cute.”
Then Massimo smiled.
Not warmly.
“She's right.”
He turned toward Luca.
“Take him.”
Adrian's expression changed.
“You can't.”
“I already did.”
The men beside Adrian moved.
For one terrible second, I thought there would be violence.
Instead, they stepped away from him.
Adrian stared.
They were Massimo's men.
Not his.
Massimo had prepared everything.
Documents.
Financial evidence.
Recorded communications.
Enough information to remove Adrian from every part of the organization.
And enough legal evidence, through Camila, to turn parts of the case over to federal investigators without implicating Tessa or the medical staff.
Camila entered twenty minutes later.
I looked at her.
“You knew?”
“Some.”
“You are never allowed to say ‘some’ to me again.”
She actually smiled.
“Fair.”
Adrian was taken away.
The immediate threat ended.
But the emotional damage remained.
That night, Massimo sat in his old wheelchair beside the windows.
He didn't need it.
Not really.
Yet he sat there.
I knew why.
“It feels safer,” I said.
He looked at me.
“What?”
“The chair.”
He said nothing.
I sat beside him.
“When everything becomes too much, you go back to the version of yourself that didn't have to risk anything.”
He stared toward the grounds.
“I almost got you killed.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Adrian made those choices.”
“I brought you here.”
“Camila brought me here.”
He almost smiled.
“I hired you.”
“I accepted.”
“You stayed.”
“I chose to.”
He looked at me.
“You make everything difficult.”
“I’ve heard.”
Massimo's voice softened.
“What happens after three months?”
The question caught me off guard.
Our contract ended in twelve days.
I had been so focused on surviving that I had stopped thinking about it.
“I go back to my program.”
“You'll finish?”
“The tuition payment clears next week.”
“Good.”
“And you?”
He looked at the cane leaning against the wall.
“I keep working.”
“With another therapist?”
His eyes returned to mine.
“Is that what you want?”
I didn't answer.
Because the truth frightened me.
I didn't know what happened when a therapist stopped being a therapist.
When a patient stopped being a patient.
When fifty thousand dollars had nothing to do with why either person wanted the other to stay.
Finally, I said, “We need boundaries.”
Massimo nodded.
“Name them.”
“After the contract ends, I'm no longer your clinician.”
“Agreed.”
“You need an independent rehabilitation team.”
“Fine.”
“I finish school.”
“You will.”
“And whatever happens between us…”
I hesitated.
“It has to be because we choose it.”
Massimo stood.
Slowly.
Without assistance.
He walked toward me.
His steps weren't perfect.
But they were his.
He stopped in front of my chair.
Then he held out his hand.
“I choose you.”
My heart hurt.
I took his hand.
“Ask me again in twelve days.”
Massimo smiled.
“Cruel woman.”
“Twelve days.”
The final days of the contract passed strangely.
We trained.
We laughed.
We argued.
Massimo progressed to walking short distances without a cane.
I finished my semester requirements.
The fifty thousand dollars was transferred.
My tuition was paid.
Everything that had brought me to the Pascale estate was solved.
Everything that made leaving difficult had nothing to do with money.
On my final morning, I packed my suitcase.
Massimo waited downstairs.
Standing.
No wheelchair.
No cane.
A black suit replaced the therapy clothes I had grown used to.
He looked exactly like the man people had probably feared before the accident.
Except his eyes were different.
Warmer.
Alive.
I stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
“Well?”
He walked toward me.
Slow.
Controlled.
“You said ask again in twelve days.”
“I did.”
Massimo stopped.
Then he held out his hand.
“Tessa Fitzgerald, your contract is finished.”
“Yes.”
“You don't work for me.”
“Correct.”
“I can't order you to stay.”
“You never could.”
“Debatable.”
I smiled.
He took a breath.
“Stay anyway.”
My chest tightened.
“Massimo…”
“Not here.”
I blinked.
He smiled.
“I know better than to ask you to disappear into my life.”
My eyes burned unexpectedly.
“I’m asking whether I can be part of yours.”
For once, I had no clever answer.
So I kissed him.