Chapter 10 - The Breakfast Table TruceThe next morning, the sun broke through the tall east-facing windows of the dining room, spilling warm gold across the polished mahogany table.
The triplets sat in their usual spots, but the atmosphere had shifted. The guarded tension that usually hung over them like a toxic fog was gone, replaced by a quiet, watchful curiosity.
Claire walked in carrying a massive platter of fluffy, chocolate-chip-studded pancakes—a peace offering, and a nod to where their chaotic journey had begun.
She set the platter down in the center.
Leo, the scarred triplet, stared at the pancakes, then up at Claire. "These aren't professional chef-made."
"Nope," Claire smiled, sliding into her seat. "These are broke-single-mom-made. Which means they have character, and if you miss your target and hit me in the face, I will retaliate with syrup."
Julian snorted into his orange juice, and Matteo actually smiled.
For the first time since Claire had arrived in Greenwich, all three boys dug into their breakfast without a single threat, argument, or weaponized kitchen utensil.
From the arched doorway, Dante watched them. He was dressed in a crisp charcoal suit, his hair neatly combed, but his dark eyes were fixed entirely on Claire. There was no coldness in his gaze now—only a deep, terrifying realization that this ordinary woman had completely dismantled the armor he had worn for five years.
"Good morning, Mr. Rinaldi," Claire said, raising her coffee mug to him. "Are you going to join us, or do you prefer eating your breakfast while standing in the dark like a gargoyle?"
Julian nearly choked on his pancake, while Matteo covered his mouth to stifle a laugh.
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Dante’s lips twitched into a slow, genuine smile—the first real smile Claire had ever seen on him.
"I think," Dante said, walking over and pulling out the chair directly beside Claire, "I’ve spent enough time standing in the dark."
