Chapter 9
Five Years Later
The warm summer sun poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the main living room, illuminating a scene of pure, blissful chaos.
On the plush Persian rug, four-year-old Ewan Moretti—named in honor of my late brother—was proudly showing his grandmother a castle he had built out of wooden blocks. My mother, now fully recovered and radiant with health, sat in a rocking chair, laughing happily as she helped him place the final tower block on top.
Near the garden doors, two-year-old Clara was taking her first tentative steps toward her father, her small hands outstretched, her dark eyes sparkling with delight.
I knelt on the floor, reaching out my hands, capturing my little daughter in my arms and lifting her high into the air as she giggled wildly.
"Look at you, my little princess!" I laughed, kissing her chubby cheeks before setting her gently on my lap.
Delia walked into the room carrying a tray of fresh lemonade and summer berries. She wore a simple, elegant yellow summer dress, her dark hair pinned back, her smile radiating a warmth that filled every corner of our home.
She set the tray down, walked over to where I sat with Clara, and sat down beside us on the floor, resting her head against my shoulder.
"You're home early today, Mr. Moretti," Delia teased softly, running her fingers through my hair.
"The docks can run themselves today, Mrs. Moretti," I replied, turning my head to kiss her lips sweet and soft. "I have far more important business right here."
Ewan ran over, dropping his wooden blocks and throwing his arms around both of us, while Clara babbled happily in my lap. My mother looked over at us from her chair, her face lit with an overwhelming, serene peace.
I looked at my family—my healthy mother, my thriving children, and the incredible, courageous woman who had saved us all from the dark.
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The cold mafia boss who had once ruled Chicago through fear and shadows was gone, replaced by a man who ruled his home with love, honor, and absolute devotion.
The wounds of the past were fully healed. The truth had won. And in the warm, bright light of our home, we knew that our story would live on in peace forever.
