Chapter 9 - THE FAMILY PORTRAIT
Three months later.
The morning sun poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Moretti estate. It wasn't the cold, imposing mansion where I used to scrub the floors. It was a beautiful stone house in the countryside, surrounded by acres of green grass and oak trees.
I stood in the kitchen, pouring coffee, watching the scene unfold in the backyard.
Dominic was running across the lawn, chasing Noah. Noah's laughter echoed through the open glass doors, bright and unburdened. He was wearing a tiny suit, an exact replica of his father's, but his tie was already crooked.
"He's fast," Uncle Silvio chuckled, sitting at the kitchen island with a newspaper. His shoulder had healed, though he walked with a cane now.
"He gets it from his mother," I smiled, sliding a cup of black coffee toward him.
The nightmare was over.
Vanessa was sitting in a federal prison, convicted on a mountain of RICO charges that Silvio had happily provided to the authorities. The Bellini family was destroyed, wiped out by the New York syndicate and the FBI.
As for my sister... I had forgiven her, but I hadn't let her back into my life. She had returned the blood money and checked into a rehabilitation center. Maybe one day, when Noah was older, we would try again. But not today.
Today was special.
Dominic walked into the kitchen, hoisting a giggling Noah onto his shoulders. He looked at me, his dark eyes filled with a warmth I hadn't seen since we were twenty years old.
"Are you ready?" Dominic asked softly.
"I'm ready," I said.
We walked into the formal living room. A photographer was setting up his equipment near the fireplace.
But before we posed, Dominic stopped. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
He knelt down, right there on the Persian rug.
Noah peeked over Dominic’s shoulder. "What's that, Daddy?"
"It's a promise, buddy," Dominic said, never taking his eyes off me. He opened the box. A beautiful, simple diamond ring sparkled inside. No gaudy mafia heirlooms. Just a ring chosen for the woman he loved.
"Claire," Dominic whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Five years ago, my family tried to steal our future. I will spend every day of the rest of my life proving that you and Noah are my only legacy. Will you marry me?"
Tears spilled down my cheeks. I didn't hesitate.
"Yes," I sobbed, pulling him up into a kiss.
Noah cheered, throwing his arms around our legs.
We took the family portrait. In the photograph, I wore the diamond ring. Dominic wore a genuine smile.
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And in the center, sitting proudly on Noah’s lap, was a little wooden horse with one short ear and a brass pin in its leg.
We were finally home.
