Chapter 12 - THE NEW BENCH
Six months later.
The Chicago snow was falling heavily outside the large bay windows of the mansion, but inside, the kitchen was warm.
I stood at the stove, flipping pancakes, wearing a comfortable sweater instead of a black maid’s uniform.
The burn on my palm had healed, leaving only a faint, silvery scar.
A reminder of the fire I had walked through to get here.
“Dad, no! You have to measure it twice!”
Matteo’s laugh echoed from the hallway.
I turned off the stove and walked out to the foyer.
Luca and Matteo were dragging a massive, heavy piece of raw oak wood through the front doors, tracking snow onto the pristine marble floor.
“I know how to measure, smart guy,” Luca grunted, dropping his end of the wood. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and grinned at his son.
“What are you two doing?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Luca looked up, his eyes softening the way they always did when he looked at me now.
“The garage was too cold in the winter,” Luca said. “So, we’re building a new workbench.”
“In the library?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Why not?” Matteo shrugged, grinning. “Grandpa would like the books.”
I laughed, walking over to them.
A lot had changed in six months.
Vanessa and Dominic were awaiting trial in federal lockup.
My mother had vanished back into the shadows, taking her secrets and her bitterness with her. I hadn't heard from her again, and I didn't want to.
Luca had officially stepped down from the shadowy elements of his family’s business, focusing entirely on legitimate real estate.
He wanted his hands clean. For Matteo. And for me.
Luca walked over to me, wrapping his strong arms around my waist, pulling me close. He smelled like sawdust and cold snow.
“Pancakes smell good,” he murmured, kissing the top of my head.
“They’re burning while you drag lumber into my clean house,” I teased.
“Our house,” he corrected softly.
He reached into his pocket.
My breath caught.
He pulled out a small velvet box. The same box we had found in the safety deposit vault.
Matteo stopped measuring the wood and watched us, a massive smile spreading across his face.
Luca didn’t drop to one knee. He didn’t make a grand, dramatic speech.
He just looked into my eyes, holding out the vintage diamond ring that had belonged to his mother.
“I don’t want to hide anything anymore, Claire,” Luca said quietly. “No more secrets. No more ghosts. Just us. Will you marry me?”
I looked at the man who had protected me, the boy who had loved me, and the family we had fought so hard to build.
I reached out and let him slide the ring onto my finger.
“Yes,” I whispered.
Matteo cheered, dropping his tape measure and running over to hug us both.
We stood there in the foyer, surrounded by snow, sawdust, and love.
On the small console table by the stairs, Matteo’s crooked, scorched wooden box sat proudly on display, holding Luca’s keys and his father’s fountain pen.
It wasn't perfect. It was scarred, a little burned, and rough around the edges.
May you like
But it was strong enough to hold everything that mattered.
And so were we.
