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"I understand."
As I listen to Ethan, I try to think about this situation. I remember the way the agent had been calling Andrea, until she had enough and finally turned the phone off.
Brandon seems, for whatever reason, desperate to get her back. A desperation that, in my opinion, borders on obsession.
Andrea continues to justify it. She says that the two of them have been together for a long time, and are close friends. She says that Brandon had been the only person who cared for her, once.
But there's a catch here. Something doesn't add up.
Within the company contracts, I found several that had Brandon's handwriting in them. I sent them to Ethan too, so he could check them against the handwriting on the letters so we could see if it was Brandon.
"Don't worry, Damien. We'll find the author."
"I know you will."
Looking up, I see Andrea, who is strolling along the lakeshore. Her slight figure is outlined by the colors of the afternoon. She’s wearing a white dress with tights underneath and a cream sweater on top. Chocolate and copper hair floats in the air behind her.
She looks beautiful, and it fills me with peace to know that I’ve been the one to bring her this calm.
Two days ago, we met at my mansion in the Hamptons, and luckily she seems to be slowly returning to her old self. Now that she’s away from the world, away from its hustle and bustle, and focused only on music and our love, I can see her being reborn.
But there are shadows still looming in the distance for us, and I must take care of them before they catch up with us.
"There is one other matter I would like to ask you to take care of," I say to Ethan.
"Anything," my friend immediately replies.
"Andrea's mother. Her name is Carly Kingsley."
"Alright. What about her?"
"She's been harassing Andrea. She keeps calling and asking her for money. Large amounts. Andrea has been overwhelmed by this. I need you to look into the woman, and if you can, find out who told her that her daughter is a millionaire now."
"Okay. I'll take care of it," Ethan promises.
"I appreciate it."
After a moment, I hang up the call, and I notice that Andrea is coming back home.
I immediately turn up the volume on the background music. A piano piece by Yiruma, the South Korean pianist, which strikes me as fitting the moment.
Andrea enters the house and finds me in the kitchen, making dinner preparations. She breathes in and dances toward me as the notes from Kiss the Rain drift through the kitchen.
"What are you preparing for dinner tonight, Chef Ramsay?" she asks, sitting down on one of the stools beside the island.
Her face rests comfortably between her palms and she looks up at me with clear, clean blue eyes like the surface of the lake. The smile is evident in her face.
"We'll have Steak Florentine for dinner today," I promise while I start to season the meat.
"Oh, that sounds delectable."
"It's one of the representative Tuscan dishes," I tell her.
"Your grandmother used to prepare it for you?"
I ask.
"My nonna used to serve it with potatoes and porcini mushrooms," I say.
