Chapter 9 - THE SECOND PARTY AT MARCHETTI HOUSE
Two years after corridor humiliation, Marchetti House held another gathering.
Smaller.
Foundation event.
Elena attended as invited shareholder and guest.
Not maid.
That distinction made everyone awkward.
Same corridor.
Same marble wall.
She stopped where Camilla had shoved her.
Enzo noticed.
“Want to go another way?”
“No.”
She stood.
Touched wall.
Then laughed.
“What?”
“I remember thinking I should apologize just to make it stop.”
Enzo said nothing.
“That scared me more afterward.”
“Why?”
“Because humiliation makes obedience look easier.”
Yes.
Then she looked at him.
“Thank you for asking if I was hurt.”
“That was low bar.”
“It was.”
Good.
Then staff member dropped glass nearby.
It shattered.
Everybody jumped.
Elena laughed.
“Apparently glassware hates this corridor.”
Then event.
No hierarchy theatrics.
Enzo had instituted staff conduct protections after incident—not because Elena demanded, but because house culture allowed abuse.
Guests could be removed for mistreating staff.
Employment reporting independent.
Camilla had been able to terrorize maid because everyone assumed future Mrs. Marchetti outranked employees.
That changed.
Then Enzo gave short speech about Bellandi-Marchetti restoration agreement.
No romantic reveal.
Business.
Historic assets resolved.
Families repaired legal wrongs.
Then Elena spoke.
“I spent most of my life being told survival meant staying unrecognized.”
She touched necklace.
“This was the only thing I kept that belonged to my first name.”
Then:
“But an inheritance is not a reason to become the person people expected before you were born.”
She looked at Enzo.
He knew childhood engagement reference.
Everyone maybe.
“I am not here because two families once joked that children should marry.”
Laughter.
“Thank God.”
More laughter.
“I’m here because evidence survived long enough to make ownership answerable to truth.”
Then after speech, Enzo took her to fig garden.
He had transplanted cutting? Old estate elsewhere, but this is Marchetti House. Could instead they go Bellandi estate next day. Let's do there.
At Bellandi estate under fig tree, he pulled out small box.
Elena immediately:
“No.”
He laughed.
“I haven’t opened it.”
“Still no.”
“You’re terrible.”
“I warned you.”
Then he put box away.
“Fine.”
She stared.
“You’re really not asking?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if your first reaction is no, I should listen.”
That was attractive.
She smiled.
Then:
“Ask me tomorrow.”
He froze.
“What?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Are you serious?”
“Maybe.”
Next day he asked.
Not with family.
Not press.
Not childhood promise.
Just:
“Elena, will you marry me because we know each other now?”
She said:
“Yes.”
Then:
“But no arranged-merger nonsense.”
“Absolutely not.”
“No riding crops.”
“Obviously.”
“No one calls me lost heiress in invitations.”
“Agreed.”
They laughed.
Then she added:
“And prenup.”
Enzo smiled.
“Already drafted.”
Of course.
Healthy.
Independent counsel.
No Bellandi/Marchetti asset confusion.
Their marriage would not become another property merger.
Then Camilla heard through media.
She sent one message:
I hope he asks you better than he asked me.
Elena showed Enzo.
He winced.
“Did you ask her badly?”
“Private jet.”
Elena stared.
“Awful.”
“People liked it.”
“People are wrong.”
Good.
May you like
Then she replied nothing.
No need.
