Chapter 10
Two Years Later
The warm summer sun shone brightly over the private beach behind the Moretti estate.
The sound of crashing waves provided a gentle background rhythm as three-year-old Maya ran along the water's edge in a pink swimsuit, splashing happily in the shallow foam while Bruno, a massive, gentle European Doberman Luka had adopted as a family guardian, trotted faithfully beside her.
On a large white blanket laid out on the warm sand, I rested my head against Luka’s broad, tattooed chest.
In my arms, wrapped in a light blue blanket, was our two-month-old son, Arthur Luka Moretti, fast asleep, his tiny fist tucked under his chin.
Luka had his arm wrapped tightly around my waist, his thumb gently caressing my shoulder while his other hand stroked our baby boy's head.
"He has your hair, Clara," Luka whispered softly, leaning down to kiss the side of my neck, sending a familiar, wonderful shiver down my spine.
"And he has your stubbornness," I laughed quietly, looking up into his grey eyes. "Dr. Aris says he already refuses to take his nap unless he’s held."
"Good," Luka smirked, his eyes twinkling with warmth. "A Moretti should know what he wants."
We looked out toward the water, where Maya was laughing hysterically as the dog gently nudged her rubber ball back toward her feet.
Thinking back to that horrific night at the hospital—when Mark had walked away with his mistress, leaving me penniless, terrified, and broken in a cold hallway—it felt like a lifetime ago. A terrible nightmare that had dissolved into the morning sun.
Mark Vance was currently serving a fifteen-year prison sentence for corporate fraud and conspiracy, completely forgotten by the world. Victor Moretti was spending the rest of his life in a federal penitentiary.
And here I was—standing on the shores of peace, surrounded by wealth, purpose, an incredible medical legacy, and above all, an unbreakable, fiercely protective family.
"What are you thinking about, my love?" Luka asked softly, tightening his hold around me.
I rested my hand over his tattooed knuckles, leaning my head against his shoulder as the gentle sea breeze carried the sweet scent of summer.
"I was thinking about the man who walked into my life with tattoos on his neck and signed a birth certificate he didn't have to," I murmured, turning my face to kiss his jaw. "I was thinking about how lucky I am that my hero didn't wear a suit of armor... he wore black, carried a pen, and never backed down from a fight."
Luka smiled—a soft, breathtaking smile reserved only for me and our children. He leaned down, pressing his lips against mine in a long, lingering kiss full of warmth, safety, and absolute devotion.
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"I'll sign for you forever, Clara," Luka promised against my lips. "In this life and the next."
And under the bright, endless blue sky, surrounded by the laughter of our children and the steady rhythm of the sea, the Moretti family lived in complete, everlasting peace.
