Chapter 13 - The Fire in the Iron Cage
Six months after the blizzard at St. Catherine’s, the grand ballroom of the Moretti estate was filled with light, music, and laughter.
Over two hundred guests attended the inaugural gala for the Sarah Sullivan Foundation.
Dignitaries, civic leaders, and former capos now running legitimate transport companies clinked crystal flutes of champagne under the sparkling chandeliers.
I stood on the marble balcony overlooking the ballroom, wearing an emerald dress that celebrated life rather than greed.
Beside me, Lucia watched the guests with a serene smile on her face.
“Sarah would be proud of you, Elena,” Lucia said softly, holding my hand.
“She would be proud of all of us,” I replied.
Luca joined us on the balcony, handing a glass of sparkling cider to our mother and a glass of champagne to me.
“The first medical wing funded by the foundation opens next week in South Chicago,” Luca reported, his eyes gleaming with pride.
“Free pediatric care for every family that walks through the doors.”
Lucia squeezed both our hands.
“My children,” she whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
“You’ve turned twenty years of darkness into a light that will outlast us all.”
May you like
Down below, Isabella waved at us from the dance floor, her laugh carrying over the sound of the string quartet.
The shadows that had haunted the Moretti family for decades were gone forever.
