THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED HIS FIANCÉE TAKE A FORK OUT OF A 76-YEAR-OLD WOMAN'S SHAKING HAND AT HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER—THEN SHE SAID, “SHE ASKED TO EAT IN THE KITCHEN,” BEFORE HE EVEN ASKED WHY THE OLD WOMAN WAS CRYING OVER A PLATE SHE HADN'T TOUCHED.

Three months later.

The Moretti estate looked entirely different.

The heavy, dark drapes that Vanessa had insisted on keeping closed were thrown wide open, letting the winter sunlight pour onto the hardwood floors. The sterile, modern art she had purchased was gone, replaced by warm landscapes and framed family photos.

I was walking down the main hallway, carrying a stack of Leo’s schoolbooks.

"Leo! If you don't come finish your math worksheet, no television after dinner!" I called out.

"You can't catch me!" a small voice giggled from the library.

I smiled, shaking my head. My mother was sitting in the sunroom, comfortably wrapped in a blanket, drinking tea and knitting a scarf. Moving her to the estate had changed everything. Her health had improved dramatically now that she wasn't stressed about rent or medication.

I walked into the library and found Leo hiding under the massive oak desk.

"I see your shoes, buddy," I teased.

Leo crawled out, pouting playfully. "Math is boring."

"Math is how you count your money when you're older," Luca said, walking into the room.

He was wearing a casual gray sweater, looking relaxed and younger than he had in years.

He ruffled Leo’s hair. "Listen to Natalie. She's the boss."

"I thought you were the boss," Leo said.

"Only at the office," Luca smiled. "At home, it's Agnes and Natalie."

Leo giggled and ran off to the kitchen to get a snack before tackling his worksheet.

Luca watched him go, a soft smile on his face.

Then he turned to me.

"How is he doing?" Luca asked.

"He's doing wonderfully," I said, setting the books on the desk. "He hasn't had a nightmare in weeks. And he's finally making friends at the local private school."

"Good." Luca nodded. "And you? How are you settling in?"

"I'm happier than I've ever been, Luca," I said honestly. We had dropped the formal 'Mr. Moretti' weeks ago at his insistence. "My mom loves the guest house. She and Agnes watch their detective shows together every Thursday."

Luca chuckled. "I know. I tried to talk to Agnes last Thursday during Murder, She Wrote and she shushed me."

We shared a laugh.

But then Luca’s smile faded slightly. He walked over to a small side table near the window.

Sitting on the table was a silver picture frame.

It was a photograph of his mother, Maria. She was laughing, looking over her shoulder at the camera.

Luca picked it up, staring at it quietly.

"I got a phone call today," Luca said, his voice lowering. "From New York."

I stepped closer, sensing the shift in his mood. "Is everything okay?"

"It's Vanessa," he said.

My stomach tightened at the name. We hadn't spoken of her since the night at the warehouse.

"What happened?" I asked cautiously.

"She tried to marry into the Rossi family in Brooklyn," Luca said, his thumb tracing the edge of the silver frame. "She didn't tell them her family was bankrupt. When the Rossi patriarch found out she was broke and that I had banished her from Chicago, he threw her out on the street. Literally."

I didn't feel pity. I only felt a cold, lingering anger for what she had tried to do to Agnes and Leo.

"Where is she now?"

"Living in a motel in Queens," Luca said. "She called my office begging for a loan. Said she had nothing to eat."

"What did you tell her?"

Luca turned to look at me.

"I told her to ask the front desk if she could eat in the kitchen."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. It was a fitting, poetic end to a woman who had tried to destroy everyone who mattered to him.

"And Dr. Vance?" I asked.

"Vance didn't make it to Mexico," Luca said coldly. "He was pulled over in Texas. The state troopers found illegal narcotics in his trunk. He's facing twenty years in a federal penitentiary. He'll die in a cell."

Luca set the photograph back on the table.

He looked lighter. As if the final ghosts of his past had finally been laid to rest.

"It's over," Luca said, taking a deep breath. "The debt is paid. The past is the past."

He walked over and stood in front of me. He was close enough that I could smell his cologne—sandalwood and cedar.

"Natalie," he said softly.

"Yes?"

"I asked you a few months ago to stay and help me manage Leo."

"And I did," I smiled.

"But I never asked you what you wanted," Luca said, looking directly into my eyes. "Before you started working as a maid to pay for your mother's care... what did you want to do with your life?"

I was taken aback by the question. Nobody had asked me about my dreams in a very long time.

"I... I wanted to be a teacher," I admitted softly. "I was halfway through my degree when my mom got sick. I had to drop out."

Luca nodded slowly.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, heavy envelope.

He held it out to me.

"What is this?" I asked.

"Open it."

I took the envelope. Inside was a crisp, official document from Northwestern University.

It was a letter of acceptance. And a receipt for full tuition, paid in advance.

I stared at the paper, the letters blurring as tears filled my eyes.