Chapter 8 - The Ghost of the Past Laid to Rest
The anniversary of my father’s death arrived on a crisp autumn morning.
Adrian, Leo, and I drove out to a secluded, private cemetery upstate, where a simple granite headstone bore Don Gabriel Romano’s name. The rain fell in a soft, gentle mist as we stood before the grave.
Adrian stood from his wheelchair, using a pair of heavy tactical crutches to support himself—a milestone he had achieved through months of grueling physical therapy with my constant encouragement. He stood tall beside me, holding Leo in one arm while placing a bouquet of white lilies against the stone with the other.
"He saved my life," Adrian whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he looked down at the engraving. "And because of him, I have yours."
I leaned my head against Adrian’s shoulder, tears of gratitude wetting my eyelashes. "He knew what he was doing, Adrian. He gave his life so that both of us could live."
Leo reached out a tiny hand, touching the cold stone of his grandfather’s grave with innocent curiosity.
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"Grandpa," the boy babbled softly, making us both laugh through our tears.
Adrian wrapped his free arm around my waist, pulling me tight against his side. "We honor his memory every single day by surviving, thriving, and loving each other," he murmured into my hair. "The Romano and Moretti names aren't cursed anymore, Melissa. We rewrote the legacy."
