Chapter 15 - The Courthouse in the Mountains
The town of Mont-Tremblant was sleepy, charming, and utterly ordinary.
The local municipal courthouse smelled of old paper, polished pine, and damp wool coats from the morning drizzle. There were no bulletproof limousines waiting outside—just our beat-up pickup truck with Willa’s pink car seat strapped securely in the back.
Willa, now three and bursting with boundless energy, insisted on wearing a mismatched floral dress over her snow boots, chattering happily as she held both of our hands while we walked up the stone steps.
Inside the modest, sunlit courtroom, a tired-looking local justice of the peace named Monsieur Dubois stood behind a high oak podium, peering over his half-moon spectacles at us.
“You’re late, Mr. and Mrs... Moretti?” the judge asked in heavily accented English, checking the paperwork.
“Traffic on the mountain road, Your Honor,” I replied smoothly, keeping a tight grip on Sloan’s hand.
“Ah, yes. The logging trucks. Understandable.” The judge smiled warmly, his eyes lingering on Willa, who was busy inspecting a potted fern in the corner. “And who is this charming young lady? The flower girl?”
“She’s the reason we’re here,” Sloan said softly, her green eyes shining with unshed tears.
The ceremony was short, simple, and profoundly sacred. There were no cameras flashing, no corporate elites watching from the pews, no hidden assassins waiting in the shadows. Just the quiet rustle of paper, the golden autumn sunlight pouring through the high stained-glass windows, and the solemn, unbreakable promise of two people who had survived hell just to find each other in the quiet.
When Monsieur Dubois pronounced us husband and wife, I didn't hesitate. I pulled Sloan into my arms and kissed her—deeply, passionately, completely—while Willa cheered loudly and clapped her hands, drawing amused chuckles from the judge.
As we stepped out of the courthouse onto the sun-drenched steps, the crisp mountain air filled our lungs.
Sloan rested her head against my shoulder, her hand safely tucked inside mine, while Willa skipped ahead, chasing a stray autumn leaf down the sidewalk.
I looked down at the woman who had saved me from my own darkness—the woman who had carried my child in secret, fought through a corporate war, and walked away from a billion-dollar empire just to keep our family whole.
I didn't have my mafia empire anymore. I didn't have my penthouses, my private jets, or my untouchable status.
I had something infinitely more dangerous, and infinitely more precious.
May you like
I had a home.
And as the golden Canadian sun washed over us, I knew that for the first time in my life, I had truly won.
