Chapter 12 - THE FAMILY PORTRAIT
The camera flashed, capturing the moment forever.
We stood in the grand foyer of the newly renovated townhouse.
The heavy, dark curtains of the past had been torn down, replaced by sheer linen that let the spring sunlight flood the marble floors.
I wore a simple, elegant white wedding dress. Dante stood beside me in a classic black tuxedo, looking at me like I was the only person in the world.
My mother stood to my left, holding Uncle Arthur’s arm. Lily was in front of us, wearing a flower girl dress, holding a bouquet of white roses.
“Okay, one more!” the photographer called out. “Everybody smile!”
I looked up at the wall above the grand staircase.
Where a dark, brooding oil painting of Dante’s ruthless grandfather used to hang, there was now an empty space, waiting for this very photograph.
A photograph of a real family. Built not on bloodlines or blackmail, but on truth, sacrifice, and love.
Dante squeezed my hand.
I looked at my husband.
My wrist was completely healed. The bruises were long gone.
I didn’t just survive the Marchettis. I didn’t just survive the darkness of the Russo empire.
I conquered it.
“Ready?” Dante whispered.
May you like
“Ready,” I smiled.
The camera flashed again, and for the first time in my life, everything was perfectly, completely bright.
