Chapter 11 - THE REBUILDING OF THE ESTATE
Six months later.
The spring sun warmed the limestone terraces overlooking Lake Michigan.
The smell of fresh cedarwood, wet paint, and blooming white hydrangeas filled the crisp May air.
The Moretti mansion had been completely rebuilt.
The burned dining room was now an open-air glass conservatory filled with orchids and lemon trees.
The grand staircase had been recarved from white Italian marble, its balustrades inlaid with delicate silver vines.
There were no high-voltage searchlights.
No armored sentries pacing the rose gardens.
The guards wore tailored navy suits, their weapons concealed, their presence discreet and professional.
I stood on the second-floor terrace, leaning against the warm stone balustrade.
I wore a flowing emerald silk dress that brushed the tops of my sandals.
My dark hair was pinned up with antique diamond clips.
On my left hand, my platinum wedding band gleamed beside a four-carat emerald that Alessandro had commissioned from a jeweler in Florence.
The West Side terminals were thriving.
Under my leadership, the maritime berths had been unionized, legitimate trade had quadrupled, and the corrupt municipal kickbacks had been eradicated completely.
The underworld called me the Donna of the River.
The woman who held the city's keys in her jewelry box.
Footsteps sounded on the stone tiles behind me.
Slow.
Confident.
Familiar.
Alessandro walked out onto the terrace.
He wore a tailored charcoal suit, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, a crystal glass of iced sparkling water in his hand.
His left shoulder was fully healed, though a faint, jagged scar still peaked above his collarbone.
He looked rested.
Whole.
The dark circles that had haunted his eyes for fourteen years were gone forever.
He walked up behind me.
He set his glass down on the stone ledge.
His strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling my back flush against his broad chest.
He buried his face into the crook of my neck, inhaling the scent of my jasmine perfume.
"The auditors just left, Sofia," he murmured against my skin.
"And?" I asked, smiling as I leaned back against him.
"Our quarterly shipping revenue is up thirty-two percent," he said, a low chuckle vibrating against my spine.
"The union leaders in Detroit sent a case of vintage Barolo as a peace offering."
"And what did you tell them?"
"I told them to send the wine to my wife's office," he said softly.
"Because she is the only one who decides who docks in Chicago."
I turned in his arms to face him.
I reached up with both hands, smoothing the lapels of his suit jacket.
His amber eyes looked down at me with an intensity that had only deepened with every passing month.
"There is one more thing, Alessandro," I said.
He arched an eyebrow, amused.
"More contracts to sign, Donna Moretti?"
"No," I whispered.
I took his right hand and placed it gently against the silk of my dress.
Directly over my lower stomach.
Alessandro froze.
His entire body went rigid.
The glass on the stone ledge seemed to disappear from his awareness.
His amber eyes widened until the pupils dilated completely.
"Sofia...?" he breathed, his voice trembling like a boy’s.
"In December," I said, tears of pure, radiant happiness welling in my eyes.
"A boy."
Alessandro stared down at his hand resting against my belly.
The most feared man in the Midwest—a man who had survived three wars and seventy shootouts—dropped to both knees on the stone terrace.
He pressed his forehead against the green silk of my dress.
His broad shoulders shook as he wept tears of absolute, overwhelming gratitude.
"Thank you," he wept against my skin.
"Thank you, my love."
I ran my fingers through his dark hair, pulling his face up until his lips met mine in a deep, passionate kiss that sealed away the smoke, the blood, and the lies of the past forever.
The breeze off Lake Michigan blew through the white hydrangeas below.
The sun shone brilliant and warm across our home.
The doors were open.
The gates were safe.
And as I looked out over the city stretching toward the horizon,
May you like
I knew that the throne we had built would stand for generations to come.
THE END
