THE GREENHOUSE DOOR WAS UNLOCKED LONG BEFORE WE ARRIVED

The flashing lights faded as the last police cruiser pulled away from the curb, taking a handcuffed, sobbing Vanessa with them.

Luca had spent twenty minutes speaking quietly with the police captain—a man who owed the Moretti family a considerable amount of political goodwill. The explanation given was simple: an attempted robbery by a disgruntled ex-fiancée. The diary, the murder, the mafia ties—none of it was mentioned.

Vanessa would face decades in prison for armed assault and extortion, and her family’s empire would crumble by morning.

Yuri patted Luca’s shoulder, his eyes twinkling. “I’ll catch a cab back to the estate. Give you two a minute.”

As Yuri hobbled away, the quiet of the neighborhood settled back in.

I leaned against the trunk of the willow tree, my legs finally giving out. I slid down to the grass, burying my face in my hands. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving behind a profound, bone-deep exhaustion.

I felt Luca sit down on the cold dirt beside me.

He didn’t say anything. He just unbuttoned his ruined, dirt-stained tuxedo shirt, draped it around my trembling shoulders, and pulled me against his side.

I rested my head on his chest, listening to the steady, strong beat of his heart.

“It’s over,” Luca murmured into my hair. “She can never hurt you or your father again.”

“What happens now?” I asked, looking up at the canopy of the willow tree. “To the estate? To your business?”

“The business will change,” Luca said firmly. “I’m shutting out the Bellini faction completely. I’m restructuring. I don’t want Leo growing up in a world where he has to hide things in greenhouses.”

He pulled away slightly and looked down at me. His dark eyes were softer than I had ever seen them.

“And I don’t want a house staff anymore, Emma. At least, not you.”

My heart plummeted. After everything, was he firing me?

“I understand,” I stammered, pulling the tuxedo shirt tighter around myself. “It’s too complicated. With my dad, and the history…”

Luca let out a soft, exasperated laugh. He reached out and gently cupped my face in his dirt-stained hands.

“Emma, I’m not firing you because it’s complicated. I’m firing you because I want you to sit at the dining table. Not serve it.”

I stared at him, my breath catching in my throat.

“My mother’s note in the greenhouse didn’t just say to watch how the woman beside me treated the staff,” Luca said quietly. “It said, ‘Ask the woman beside you how she treated the people who kept your home alive.’ You kept my home alive, Emma. You cared for Leo when no one else did. You protected my family when you didn’t even know our history.”

He leaned in, his forehead resting against mine.

“I don’t want a mafia princess. I want the woman who bites kidnappers and digs up trees in the middle of the night.”

A tear slipped down my cheek, and I laughed, a wet, relieved sound.

Luca kissed me. It wasn’t a rushed, desperate kiss. It was slow, grounding, and full of a promise that felt like finally coming home.

By the time we drove back to the estate, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting the mansion in a warm, golden glow.

We walked into the third-floor medical suite.

My father was awake, sitting up in bed, looking infinitely better with color back in his cheeks. Leo was sitting at the foot of his bed, drawing a picture with crayons on a hospital tray.

When Leo saw us, he dropped his green crayon and launched himself off the bed, sprinting across the room.

He didn’t run to Luca. He ran to me.

I caught him, lifting him into my arms and burying my face in his messy morning hair.

“You came back,” Leo whispered, his little arms wrapped tightly around my neck.

“I’ll always come back, Leo,” I promised. “Always.”

Luca walked over to my father’s bed and placed the leather-bound diary gently on the nightstand.

“It’s safe,” Luca said. “Vanessa is gone. You don’t have to run anymore, Viktor. This is your home now.”

My father looked at the diary, then at Luca. Tears filled his old, kind eyes. He reached out and took Luca’s hand, squeezing it weakly.

“Thank you, son.”

Yuri walked into the room, carrying a silver tray.

“Well,” Yuri announced cheerfully. “Since the engagement dinner was ruined, and nobody got dessert, I took the liberty of raiding the kitchen.”

He set the tray down on my father’s bed.

Sitting in the center was the flat cardboard bakery box. Yuri opened it, revealing the rustic, slightly smushed prune cake tied with white string.

Luca looked at the cake. For the first time all night, a genuine, boyish smile broke across his face.

He picked up a small plastic knife from the tray, cut a thick slice, and took a bite.

“Still terrible, Yuri,” Luca laughed, though his eyes were shining.

Yuri chuckled, cutting a piece for Leo, who took it eagerly.

I stood there, holding Leo, standing beside the man I loved, watching my father smile for the first time in months. The secrets were buried. The ghosts were gone.