"No," Roman said, his voice dropping an octave as he stared out the floor-to-ceiling glass of his study, watching the cold Chicago rain streak down the skyline. "Do not touch her accounts, Marco. Do not track her phone records."

The small timber yard had promoted Roman to shift supervisor—a position he accepted not for the title or the authority, but because he enjoyed the honest work, the smell of fresh cedar, and the camaraderie of men who didn't care about last names or underworld reputations.

Marco Bellini had settled down too, opening a marine repair shop down at the local harbor that quickly became the most reliable business on the peninsula.

And Celeste?

Celeste had quietly opened a small, independent bookstore and legal advisory clinic in the heart of the coastal town, helping local families navigate property deeds, small business setups, and zoning laws. No multi-million-dollar corporate espionage. No hidden shell companies. Just real people, real problems, and honest solutions.

One Saturday afternoon, Roman walked into the bookstore carrying a laughing Maya on his shoulders.

The bell above the door chimed pleasantly. The shop smelled of old paper, vanilla candles, and fresh coffee.

Celeste looked up from the counter where she was helping an elderly woman sort through land grant documents. A soft, radiant smile spread across her face.

"Daddy! Look at all the books!" Maya squealed, pointing at the towering shelves.

"I see them, bug," Roman chuckled, lowering her carefully to the polished hardwood floor. She immediately toddled off toward the children's corner, where a plush reading rug awaited.

Celeste walked over to Roman, wiping her hands on her apron, and leaned up to give him a quick, affectionate kiss on the cheek.

"You're early," she noted.

"Finished the morning shipments ahead of schedule," Roman said, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close against him. He looked around the cozy, sunlit shop, feeling a profound sense of peace settle deep into his bones. "You know... technically, we own more real estate now than we did in Chicago."

Celeste arched an eyebrow, amused. "Is that so?"

"A house on the cliff, a boat shop down the road, a lumber yard shift, and the best bookstore in the county," Roman listed, his eyes warm with affection. "I'd say my portfolio is doing quite well."