SHE CAME FOR THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE

The dining room had been transformed.

Twenty-four hours ago, it had been a sterile, suffocating space filled with white roses, cold champagne, and thirty strangers waiting for a wedding that was built on a lie.

Tonight, it smelled like garlic, roasted tomatoes, and fresh basil.

Maria had refused to let the private chef cook. She had tied on an apron, marched into her kitchen, and made her famous baked ziti—the exact recipe she used to cook with Isabella.

Luca, Leo, and I walked into the dining room.

The massive, thirty-seat mahogany table had been stripped of its formal silk runners.

Instead, four place settings were clustered intimately at the head of the table.

Maria carried a steaming ceramic dish from the kitchen and set it down. She wiped her hands on her apron and beamed.

“Sit, sit,” she commanded, her voice thick with happy tears.

Luca pulled out a chair for Maria. Then, he pulled out the chair to his right.

He looked at me.

“Sit, Emma.”

I sat down, my heart incredibly full. The gold sparrow necklace rested against my collarbone, a constant reminder of the truth I had just discovered.

I wasn't an employee. I was family.

Leo scrambled into the chair across from me. He immediately reached for a piece of garlic bread.

“Ah-ah,” Maria scolded gently, tapping his hand with a wooden spoon. “Family dinner rules. We wait for the Boss to eat first.”

Leo pouted playfully, pulling his hand back.

Luca smiled. He reached out and grabbed a piece of garlic bread, taking a large bite.

“Alright, the Boss has eaten,” Luca declared. “Dig in, kid.”

Leo giggled, a bright, beautiful sound that echoed through the massive room.

I watched them.

I watched Luca cut Leo’s pasta. I watched Maria fuss over how thin Luca had gotten.

It was chaotic. It was loud. It was perfect.

Halfway through the meal, Matteo walked into the dining room.

He stopped at the edge of the rug, respectfully keeping his distance from the family table.

“Sorry to interrupt, Boss,” Matteo said.

Luca wiped his mouth with a napkin. “What is it, Matteo?”

“The lawyer just called. The paperwork for Vanessa’s exile and the doctor’s confession have been processed. The accounts have been frozen and transferred back to the family trust.”

“Good,” Luca said.

“There is one more thing, sir,” Matteo added, pulling a small, heavy object from his pocket.

He walked forward and placed it on the table next to Luca’s plate.

It was the gold pocket watch. The one that started this entire cascade of truth.

“The jeweler finished cleaning it, Boss. The inscription from Vanessa has been completely removed.”

Luca picked up the watch. The gold gleamed in the chandelier light.

He ran his thumb over the smooth, blank metal where the lie used to be.

Then, he reached across the table and handed the watch to Leo.

“This was your grandfather’s,” Luca said softly to the little boy. “He was a complicated man. But he loved your grandmother very much. I want you to have it.”

Leo took the heavy watch with both hands, his eyes wide with awe.

“Thank you, Luca,” Leo whispered.

Luca smiled. “You’re welcome, little brother.”

Matteo bowed his head respectfully and stepped back. “I’ll leave you to your dinner, Boss.”

“Actually, Matteo, wait,” Luca called out.

Matteo stopped.

Luca stood up. He picked up his wine glass.

“Grab a glass, Matteo.”

Matteo looked surprised, but he walked over to the sideboard, poured himself a glass of red wine, and returned.

Luca raised his glass.

“To my mother, Isabella,” Luca said, his voice ringing with absolute clarity. “Who saw the truth when no one else could, and who protected this family from the grave.”

“To Isabella,” Maria echoed softly.

“To my father,” Luca continued. “Who left a vault of truth to ensure his true bloodline survived.”

He looked down at Leo, who proudly raised his glass of milk.

Then, Luca turned his gray eyes to me.

“And to Emma,” he said, his voice dropping to a register that made my pulse race. “The daughter of a hero. The protector of my brother. The woman who brought the light back into this house.”

My cheeks flushed hot. I raised my water glass, unable to look away from his intense gaze.

“To family,” Luca finished.