Chapter 10 - The New Foundation
The transition from a life of survival to a life of abundance was overwhelming for Olivia.
For the first few weeks, she still woke up at 5:00 AM, her body conditioned by months of exhausting maid shifts, expecting to scrub the grand marble staircases. But every time she quietly slipped out of bed, Gabriel would be there, gently guiding her back to the plush mattress, reminding her that she was the lady of the house now.
“You are Clara’s granddaughter,” Gabriel murmured one morning, wrapping his arms around her waist as she stood in the nursery, looking down at Abigail’s ornate wooden crib. “You are family. The staff works for you, Olivia. You don't work for them.”
Olivia leaned back against his solid chest, soaking in his warmth. “It’s just hard to break the habit. I keep feeling like Mrs. Caldwell is going to walk around the corner and yell at me for resting.”
Gabriel’s grip tightened slightly, fiercely protective. “Helen Caldwell is serving twenty-five to life in a federal penitentiary. She will never speak your name again.”
He kissed the top of her head, his lips lingering in her soft hair. “What do you want to do today?”
Olivia smiled, looking at little Abigail, who was awake and staring curiously at a spinning mobile above her head. “I want to bake.”
Gabriel chuckled, a deep, rich sound that always sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. “The chefs in the kitchen have three Michelin stars between them, Olivia. They can make you anything you want.”
“I don't want them to make it,” Olivia insisted playfully, turning in his arms to look up into his dark, handsome eyes. “I want to make it. It’s Edward’s 81st birthday tomorrow. And I have a tradition to uphold.”
Gabriel’s expression softened with immense affection. He remembered the birthday cobbler she had made for his father when everyone else had forgotten him. The cobbler that had started this entire chain of miracles.
“Then we bake,” Gabriel smiled.
Later that afternoon, the massive, state-of-the-art kitchen of the Rinaldi estate was entirely cleared of staff.
Olivia stood at the marble island, wearing a simple apron over her clothes, peeling fresh apples. Abigail was securely strapped into a baby carrier strapped to Gabriel’s broad chest. The former Mafia Don looked absolutely ridiculous and entirely perfect, pacing the kitchen while gently bouncing the baby to sleep as he read a bedtime story from a children’s book.
“...and the little bear found a home in the great big woods,” Gabriel read softly, his deep voice soothing Abigail into a peaceful slumber.
Olivia watched him, her heart swelling with an emotion so powerful it brought tears to her eyes. He was a natural father. He possessed a terrifying capacity for violence, yes, but he reserved a profound, endless well of gentleness exclusively for them.
“You’re staring,” Gabriel noted, looking up from the book with a smirk.
“I’m just admiring the view,” Olivia teased, dusting her hands with flour.
Gabriel walked over to the island, careful not to jostle the sleeping baby. He leaned across the marble and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Olivia’s flour-dusted cheek.
“I spoke with the architects today,” Gabriel said quietly, shifting to a more serious tone. “The plans for the downtown properties have been finalized. The old warehouses we seized back from the Lucas syndicate are being completely gutted.”
Olivia stopped peeling the apple. “What are you turning them into?”
“A foundation,” Gabriel answered, his dark eyes filled with purpose. “The Clara Parker Foundation. It’s going to be a comprehensive support center for single mothers and at-risk women. Housing, medical care, job placement, and childcare.”
Olivia gasped, the peeler slipping from her hand and clattering onto the marble counter. “Gabriel… you’re building a foundation in my grandmother’s name?”
“I’m building it in your honor, Olivia,” Gabriel corrected gently. “You came into this house with nothing, desperate and alone, and you still found the strength to save my father. No woman should ever have to choose between keeping her child and surviving. I’m taking the dirty money this family made for decades, and I’m using it to make sure no one ever preys on someone like you again.”
Tears spilled freely down Olivia’s cheeks. She rounded the kitchen island and threw her arms around Gabriel’s neck, mindful of the baby strapped to his chest. She buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing with overwhelming gratitude.
“Thank you,” Olivia wept, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Thank you, Gabriel.”
He held her tightly, his large hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. “You don't ever have to thank me for protecting you, Olivia. It’s the only thing I want to do for the rest of my life.”
He pulled back slightly, looking deeply into her eyes. The air between them shifted, charged with a magnetic, undeniable tension that had been building for months.
“I love you, Olivia,” Gabriel confessed, his voice thick with raw emotion. “I have loved you since the moment you put yourself between my father and a loaded gun. I didn't want to overwhelm you while you were adjusting to the baby and the estate, but I can't hide it anymore.”
Olivia looked into the eyes of the man who had torn down his own criminal empire to keep her safe. She saw the absolute sincerity, the unwavering loyalty, and the fierce love burning in his gaze.
“I love you too,” Olivia whispered, reaching up to cup his face. “I have for a long time.”
Gabriel smiled, a breathtaking expression of pure joy, and leaned down to kiss her. It was a kiss that sealed their past and promised their future—deep, passionate, and entirely free of the shadows that had once haunted them.
“Ahem.”
Gabriel and Olivia pulled apart, turning toward the kitchen doorway.
Edward was sitting in his wheelchair, flanked by his physical therapist. He had a wide, knowing smirk on his weathered face.
“I apologize for interrupting the romance,” Edward chuckled, his voice much stronger now. “But if you burn that apple cobbler, Olivia, I’m putting you back on bathroom duty.”
May you like
Olivia laughed out loud, wiping her eyes. “It won't burn, Grandpa. I promise.”
“Good,” Edward smiled warmly, looking at his son and the woman who had saved them both. “Because tomorrow is a big day. And I want everything to be perfect.”
