Chapter 12 - The Sun Over Tuscany
"Luca!" I screamed, dropping to my knees on the freezing, rain-slicked concrete.
Blood was pooling rapidly beneath his dark coat, spreading like a terrifying ink stain across the ground. The gunshot had come from the shadows—a final, cowardly parting gift from Matteo before he vanished into the labyrinth of shipping crates.
"Marco!" I shrieked, pressing both my hands hard against the center of Luca's chest, trying desperately to stem the bleeding. "Marco, help!"
The sniper rifle fired from the crane above, a deafening crack that echoed across the water, followed by a scream of agony from the shadows. Marco had found Matteo. But I didn't care about revenge. I only cared about the man bleeding out beneath my hands.
Luca’s dark eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused. His breathing was wet and shallow.
"Hannah," he gasped, his blood-stained hand reaching up to weakly grip my wrist. "Take your mother... take the money... run."
"Shut up," I sobbed, my tears mixing with the freezing rain falling on his face. "You are not dying on this pier, Luca Moretti. Do you hear me? You promised me a future, and you are not backing out now!"
The screech of tires cut through the storm as Marco’s tactical team descended on the pier. Strong hands pulled me back, replacing my desperate grip with professional medical pressure. Paramedics swarmed him, shouting medical jargon I couldn't understand.
I held my mother tightly as they loaded him into the back of an armored ambulance.
The doors slammed shut, and the siren wailed into the night.
The next forty-eight hours were a living nightmare of sterile hospital waiting rooms, bitter coffee, and deafening silence. Teresa sat beside me, holding my hand, praying softly over her silver rosary. My mother, finally safe and receiving the best care money could buy, slept in a room down the hall.
When the exhausted surgeon finally walked out of the operating room on the third morning, he pulled down his mask and offered a small, weary smile.
"The bullet missed his heart by a millimeter," the doctor said. "He’s strong. He’s going to make it."
Teresa collapsed against my shoulder in tears of profound relief. I couldn't even speak. I just sank into the plastic waiting room chair and let out a breath I felt like I had been holding for two days.
One Year Later.
The warm, golden sun of the Italian countryside beat down on my shoulders, carrying the sweet scent of blooming jasmine and crushed grapes.
I wiped a streak of dirt from my forehead with the back of my hand, looking out over the rolling green hills of the Tuscany vineyard. The estate was breathtaking—rows upon rows of ancient vines stretching as far as the eye could see, ending at a beautiful, rustic stone villa.
It wasn't a mafia stronghold. It was a home.
"Hannah! Look at me!"
I turned and smiled. Leo, now six years old and brown as a berry from the Mediterranean sun, was running down the dirt path, chasing a massive, fluffy golden retriever.
Bruno was fifteen years old now. He moved a little slower, and his muzzle was completely white, but he looked happier than he ever had in the dark, gloomy mansion in Chicago. He flopped down in the shade of an olive tree, letting Leo bury his face in his fur.
"Don't tire him out, Leo!" my mother called out from the patio of the villa.
Clara was sitting at a wrought-iron table with Teresa. They were drinking espresso and arguing playfully in rapid Italian, two childhood best friends who had finally found their way back to each other after thirty-five years of pain and separation. My mother’s hip had been fully replaced; she walked without a cane, completely free of pain.
We had used the fifty million dollars in the blind trust to restore the vineyard, pay off every debt, and sever all ties to the past. The Moretti mafia empire was dead. But the family was alive.
I heard the soft crunch of gravel behind me.
I turned.
Luca was walking down the path toward me. He still used his sleek black cane occasionally when the weather turned cold, a permanent reminder of the night he traded his empire for my life, but today he walked with a strong, steady stride.
He was wearing a simple white linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up, revealing his tanned, scarred forearms. He looked like a man who had finally put down a heavy burden he had carried his entire life.
"You're working too hard," Luca said softly, stopping in front of me and gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
"I'm protecting my investment," I teased, leaning into his touch. "The grapes need attention before the harvest."
Luca smiled, a bright, unrestrained expression that still made my heart skip a beat even after a year together. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me flush against him.
"I didn't come out here to talk about grapes, Hannah," he murmured, his dark eyes turning serious and deeply tender.
He reached into his pocket.
My breath caught in my throat as he slowly dropped to one knee in the dirt. He didn't care about his linen pants. He only cared about the woman standing in front of him.
He opened a small, black velvet box.
Inside wasn't a massive, flashy diamond bought with dirty money.
It was a delicate, vintage gold ring featuring a single, beautiful sapphire. It was elegant, timeless, and completely perfect.
"When my father died, he left me a broken empire," Luca said, looking up at me, his voice rough with emotion. "When David died, he left you a broken heart. We spent years carrying the weight of ghosts we couldn't save. But you saved me, Hannah. You brought the sun back into my life."
Tears spilled over my lashes, tracking down my dusty cheeks.
"I don't have an army anymore," Luca whispered, offering the ring. "I don't have a mansion in Chicago. All I have is this vineyard, a family that adores you, and a heart that belongs entirely to you. Marry me, Hannah. Let me spend the rest of my life making sure you and Leo never have to be afraid again."
I didn't hesitate. I didn't need to think.
I dropped to my knees in the dirt right in front of him, throwing my arms around his neck.
"Yes," I sobbed, laughing through my tears as I kissed him deeply. "Yes, yes, yes."
Luca laughed, a rich, joyous sound, holding me tightly against him.
Up on the patio, Teresa and my mother cheered loudly, raising their espresso cups in a toast. Bruno let out a happy bark, and Leo ran over, throwing his little arms around both of us in a massive, messy hug.
I rested my head against Luca’s chest, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart.
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The past was gone. The shadows had vanished. We had built something real, something that didn't bleed, right here in the Tuscan sun.
And for the first time in my life, I was finally, truly home.
