755 The Mafia Don Woke From a Coma as His Fiancée Had the Nurse Arrested, but the Little Girl Behind Her Knew the One Name That Could Destroy Them All

Ten years after the fire.

The sun was setting over Lake Michigan, casting a brilliant golden glow across the terrace of our Lake Forest estate.

A long wooden table was set under an arbor of blooming white hydrangeas and green vines.

Sitting around the table were the people who mattered most in my world.

Eighteen-year-old Lily, who had just been accepted to the Juilliard School of Music in New York, was sitting beside her younger brother, seven-year-old Leo—my son with Hannah—showing him how to fold a paper napkin into a flying crane.

At the head of the table sat Marcus, now retired from active security work, happily sharing stories of old Chicago with Hannah's parents, who had flown in from Ohio for the weekend.

Hannah walked out onto the terrace carrying a heavy platter of fresh Italian pastries, her laughter echoing warmly across the sunlit patio.

I stood near the edge of the stone balcony, holding a glass of sparkling water, taking in the scene.

My chest bore no more pain. My ribs had healed long ago. The nightmares of smoke, fire, and blood had vanished into distant memories, replaced by ten years of absolute peace, love, and laughter.

Hannah walked over to me, setting the platter down on a side table, and slid her arms around my waist from behind.

"What are you looking at, Mr. Vance?" Hannah teased softly against my back.

I turned in her arms, wrapping my hands around her waist, looking into her warm, beautiful hazel eyes.