Chapter 18 - The Scars We CarryTwo weeks later, the smoke had cleared, and the rebuilding of Moretti Manor was well underway.
The charred ruins of the old west wing were being demolished to make way for a sprawling, sunlit garden pavilion—a place where Isabella could run and play without ever looking over her shoulder.
I stood on the newly paved patio, holding a cup of black coffee, watching the morning light glint off the fresh glass panels of the conservatory.
Sophia walked up beside me, holding a small silver tray with the recovered charter documents and the silver charm.
"The council in Chicago has officially disbanded, Mr. Moretti," Sophia said quietly. "The remaining capos have sworn fealty to your charter. No one will ever challenge your family again."
"Good," I replied, taking the silver charm from the tray. I opened the locket, looking at the faded photograph of Elena standing beside the man who had tried to destroy everything we built. Then I closed it tightly, pocketing it alongside her final letter.
"And Isabella?" I asked.
May you like
Sophia smiled softly, nodding toward the lawn.
Down by the blossoming cherry tree, Isabella was running across the emerald grass, chasing a red ball alongside little Emma. Her laughter rang out clear, bright, and completely unburdened by the past.
