Bell sat near the end of the conference table, pen in hand, her expression cool and unreadable as one of the Borsany execs spoke about projected numbers for the upcoming quarter.
She nodded when appropriate, chimed in when needed, but her focus was fractured.
She'd seen Alessandro the second he walked in. Charcoal gray suit, that permanent shadow of stubble now part of his face, not a sign of the boy she'd once loved. Only the man who had left her. The man who, days ago, asked to meet her son.
She hadn't said yes. But she hadn't said no either.
He hadn't spoken a word to her today — not directly — but she could feel him. Across the room, two chairs down. Calm. Focused. Disconnected.
Until…
The watch.
Bell's eyes drifted to his wrist without meaning to, caught by the way his cuff moved as he gestured mid-discussion.
It wasn't flashy. Just a sleek gold frame, the subtle dark leather band.
But she knew it.
She'd spent days deciding on that watch. It was an heirloom to her family, but she had known even back then Alessandro would take better care of it than she ever would. The one she'd begged her grandfather to give to her, because Alessandro deserved something timeless. Something that would last.
She gave it to him on his eighteenth birthday.
She hadn't seen it in years.
And now here it was. On his wrist.
Her breath caught, just for a moment. A tiny crack in the composure she wore like armor.
Alessandro looked up.
Their eyes met.
It was only for a second — barely enough to register. But in that second, something passed between them. A flicker of memory. Of summer. Of what used to be.
He followed her gaze.
His fingers adjusted the watch.
And then he looked away.
The moment passed. The meeting went on.
But something had shifted.
Bell forced herself to look away.
She picked up her pen again, nodded at something the speaker said, even scribbled a note she wouldn't remember later. But her hands were trembling.
It made no sense — not really. She hadn't cried when he came into her office demanding answers. She hadn't cried when she told him he'd hurt her, or when she reminded him that Enzo had grown up just fine without him.
But this?
This stupid watch?
She blinked quickly and pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to fight the rising heat in her chest.
Why now?
Why this?
She had buried that girl — the one who wore his jacket in the fall and kissed him under the oak tree and spent months planning the perfect gift because she thought he was her forever.
That girl had cried herself to sleep every night for weeks after he left. That girl had walked around like a ghost for months. That girl had raised a child — his child — and learned how to live again.
But suddenly, she could feel her again. That girl, clawing her way back up from the depths Bell had locked her in. All because of a gold watch.
She swallowed hard, stared at the conference table in front of her, and tried to slow her breathing.
You're fine.
This doesn't matter.
It's just a damn watch.
But she could feel it — the way her throat was tightening, the sting behind her eyes.
She wouldn't cry.
Not here.
Not in front of him.
Not again.
Her fingers gripped the pen so tightly her knuckles went white.
Across the table, Alessandro shifted — a glance cast in her direction again, brief, unreadable. But Bell refused to meet his eyes this time. If she did, she knew she'd break.
Not because she still loved him.
But because somewhere deep down, she wasn't sure if she ever stopped.
The meeting finally wrapped. Chairs slid back. People exchanged smiles, firm handshakes. Bell rose quickly, smoothing her skirt, careful with every movement like she was holding herself together by thread.
"Bell," someone called from the end of the table, "You'll forward those notes later?"
She nodded. "Of course." Her voice was level — miraculously
Bell had made it halfway to the door.
Another ten steps and she could've made it to the hallway, the elevator, the safety of anywhere else. Anywhere that wasn't this room with him and that watch.
But then—
"Miss Casanova," Alessandro's voice cut through the room, calm but loud enough to carry over the low hum of departing chatter.
Bell stopped. Her fingers tightened around the handle of her leather folio, breath catching in her throat. Her heart gave a painful thud.
She turned slowly, eyebrows raised just slightly — her mask already sliding back into place.
"Yes?" she asked coolly.
He stood near the opposite end of the conference table, hands at his sides, posture as impeccable as ever. His expression was unreadable, his voice deliberate:
"May I have a word with you?"
There it was — polite, formal. So goddamn neutral that it made her blood simmer.
The room wasn't completely empty yet. A few people still lingered, gathering papers, finishing quiet conversations. They glanced up now, curious.
Bell's jaw clenched. She could say no.
She wanted to say no.
But she'd seen the look in his eyes just before he asked — that flicker of something deeper, something real.
So she nodded once.
"Fine," she said softly.
She followed him out of the room, her heels clicking against the polished floor, her heartbeat so loud it nearly drowned out everything else.
They stepped into a quieter hallway just around the corner — glass-lined with muted city views. She turned to him, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
"You've had your word," she said sharply. "Now let me go."
But Alessandro didn't respond right away. His eyes scanned her face, lingering longer than they should have. He wasn't angry — not like the day in her office. This was something else.
Slower. Sadder.
"You remembered the watch," he finally said, voice low.
Bell's breath hitched.
She looked away.
"I gave it to you," she said. "Of course I remembered."
"I didn't mean to wear it today," he admitted, glancing down at it. "But when I saw it this morning, I… I guess part of me did."
Bell didn't answer.
The silence stretched between them like an open wound.
Bell had turned to walk away—
But Alessandro wasn't finished.
"Bell," he said, voice low, steady. "Please."
She stopped — not out of willingness, but out of exhaustion. Of knowing that if she didn't face this now, it would follow her forever.
She turned back slowly, her expression tight. "What more do you want from me?"
"I want to see him," he said simply.
"You don't get to want things," she snapped. "You forfeited that right when you left."
"I didn't know—"
"But you left," she cut in. "Knowing or not, you still left."
Alessandro exhaled through his nose. His voice dropped softer. "I know I did. And if I could go back and undo it, I would. Every single second of it."
Bell folded her arms again, not to be defensive — just to hold herself together.
"This isn't about you and me anymore," Alessandro said after a beat. "This is about him. About Enzo."
Her lips parted slightly at the sound of his name in his voice.
It didn't sound wrong.
It sounded dangerous.
"He's your son, Bell. And I know you've done everything for him — I don't doubt that. But he deserves to know who I am. He deserves the choice."
Bell's chin trembled, but she held his gaze.
"And what if he doesn't want to know you?"
"Then he doesn't," Alessandro said, voice firm. "And I'll respect that. But that choice should be his, not yours."
"I wasn't keeping him from you," she said, almost defensively. "I tried to tell you."
"I know that now. I know that," he repeated, taking a step closer. "But what happens from here on… that's on us. What kind of people are we if we let our past destroy his future?"
She blinked fast — furious at how her heart twisted at his words.
"Do you think I haven't thought about it?" she whispered. "Every birthday. Every milestone. Every 'what if.' But then I remember how much it hurt when you walked away. And the thought of you doing that to him—"
"I won't," he said quickly. "Not again."
"How do I trust that?"
Alessandro swallowed hard, his voice almost a whisper now. "You don't have to trust me. But trust him. Trust that he's strong enough to meet me and decide for himself."
Bell turned her head away, eyes glassy.
"You're asking me to risk everything I've spent seven years building."
"I'm asking you not to let your pain be louder than his right to know where he comes from."
Silence hung between them like a razor's edge.
Finally, Bell's voice cracked.
"I'll think about it."
Alessandro nodded slowly. It wasn't a victory — but it was something. A shift. A beginning.
And this time, when Bell walked away, she didn't run.