Chapter 12 - The Magnolia in the Garden
One year later.
The afternoon sun beat down on the lush, green lawns of the Moretti estate. The air smelled of blooming jasmine and freshly cut grass.
I stood on the massive stone patio, wearing a simple white sundress, holding a pitcher of iced lemonade.
Out on the lawn, the sounds of absolute joy echoed against the stone walls of the mansion.
Leo, now five years old and looking remarkably healthy, was running at top speed across the grass, kicking a soccer ball. Chasing right behind him was Mara’s daughter, Mia, laughing hysterically.
“Pass it! Pass it, Leo!”
“You can’t catch me!” Leo shrieked, dodging her wildly.
I smiled, setting the pitcher down on the patio table.
Behind the children, playing the role of an imposing but completely ineffective goalie, was Marcus. The giant, scarred head of security was pretending to dive for the ball, intentionally missing it by a mile, earning a triumphant cheer from Leo.
Suddenly, a pair of strong, familiar arms wrapped around my waist from behind.
Luca pulled me flush against his chest, resting his chin gently on the top of my head. He was wearing a casual linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his intricate tattoos.
“Who is winning?” Luca murmured, his deep voice vibrating against my back.
“Leo just scored his third goal past the most terrifying enforcer in Chicago,” I laughed, leaning into his embrace.
“Marcus is getting soft in his old age,” Luca joked softly.
He turned me around in his arms, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that still made my heart skip a beat, even after a year together.
The criminal empire was gone. The transition to legitimate logistics and real estate had been remarkably smooth, fueled in part by the damning evidence in his father’s ledger, which had effectively neutralized any rival families trying to challenge the transition.
Mara was thriving, two and a half years sober, running a non-profit foundation for addiction recovery using the funds Luca had donated.
We had found Father Thomas and quietly endowed his parish with enough money to ensure his community would never go hungry again.
And Vanessa Bellini was currently serving a thirty-year sentence in a federal penitentiary for corporate extortion and kidnapping.
The shadows were entirely banished from our lives.
“You look beautiful,” Luca said, his hand coming up to gently trace the emerald necklace resting against my collarbone. The necklace he had given me the day he asked me to stay.
“It’s just a sundress, Luca,” I smiled, my cheeks flushing.
“It’s not the dress,” he corrected, his voice dropping to a low, intimate whisper. “It’s you. You brought the light back into this house, Claire. You brought me back to life.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. He handed it to me.
I frowned slightly, taking it. “What is this?”
“Open it.”
I unfolded the paper. It was a child’s drawing. But it wasn't the dark, frightening scribble of the Shadow Man from a year ago.
It was a drawing of a bright yellow sun. A large green house. And three figures standing in front of it holding hands. A tall man with black hair, a little boy with a huge smile, and a woman with brown hair, wearing a white dress.
Written at the top, in Leo’s improving but still messy handwriting, were the words:
My Family. Daddy, Mommy Claire, and Me.
Tears instantly pricked my eyes. I pressed my hand to my mouth, overwhelmed by the profound beauty of the title he had given me.
Mommy Claire.
“He drew it this morning,” Luca explained softly, his own eyes shining with emotion. “He asked me if it was okay to call you that. I told him he could call you whatever his heart wanted.”
I looked up at Luca, unable to speak through the tears of pure joy.
Luca didn't stop there.
He slowly took a step back. He didn't pull a velvet box from his pocket this time. He didn't need to.
The undisputed king of Chicago, the man who had laid down his entire empire to save his son, dropped to one knee on the sunlit stone patio.
Out on the lawn, Marcus suddenly stopped the soccer game. He pointed toward the patio, and Leo gasped, dropping the ball and running over to watch, his green eyes wide with excitement.
“Claire Bennett,” Luca said, looking up at me with absolute, unwavering devotion. “You fought for my sister. You fought for my son. You fought for me when I didn't even know how to fight for myself.”
He reached out and took my trembling hand in his.
“I don't have an empire to offer you anymore,” Luca whispered, a tender smile touching his lips. “I only have a quiet life. A beautiful son. And a heart that beats entirely for you. Will you marry me?”
The tears spilled over my cheeks, hot and fast. I didn't care who was watching. I didn't care about anything else in the world.
“Yes,” I choked out, laughing through my sobs. “Yes, Luca. A thousand times, yes.”
He stood up, pulling me into a fierce, passionate kiss that promised a lifetime of safety and love.
“Yay!” Leo shrieked, crashing into our legs and hugging us both as tightly as his small arms could manage.
Luca broke the kiss, laughing as he scooped Leo up into his arms, pulling me in so the three of us were wrapped in one tight embrace.
I looked at the beautiful, blooming garden. I looked at the man who loved me, and the little boy who called me Mommy.
May you like
The storm had passed. The house was full.
And for the first time in my life, I was exactly where I was meant to be.
