Chapter 8 - The White Roses Bloom
Three months later, the Westchester estate looked entirely different.
The white roses that climbed the marble columns of the grand ballroom were in full bloom, their sweet, delicate fragrance drifting through the open French doors on a crisp autumn afternoon. There were no politicians, no journalists, no men whose names appeared in newspapers for reasons nobody discussed at dinner.
Instead, the lawn was filled with small, colorful balloons, a low-slung wooden swing hanging from the ancient oak tree near the garden, and the bright, infectious sound of children laughing.
Ethan Moretti—now eight and a half, healthier, stronger, and much more cautious about what he ate—was sitting on the grass, helping a three-year-old girl build a magnificent, towering castle out of wooden blocks.
"Careful, Lily," Ethan warned with a grin, holding a corner of the wall steady. "If you stack it too high, it'll fall over."
"No it won't!" Lily declared proudly, placing a small plastic crown on top of the highest tower. "It's a castle! Castles don't fall down!"
A few yards away, standing beneath the shade of the grand veranda, Anna watched them with a soft, content smile playing across her lips. She wore a simple light-blue dress that caught the autumn breeze, her dark hair falling in soft waves across her shoulders.
Footsteps approached from behind, and a familiar warmth settled close to her side.
Dominic leaned against the wooden pillar, watching his son and the little girl play on the lawn. He wore a dark tailored suit without a tie, looking more like a normal father than a reigning mafia kingpin.
"She's getting too tall," Dominic observed quietly, a hint of amusement in his deep voice. "Give her another year and she'll be running the entire estate."
Anna laughed softly, turning her head to look at him. "She already runs the staff wing. Half the cooks spend their afternoons baking special strawberry cookies just to keep her quiet."
"They're smart cooks," Dominic replied, turning his gaze from the lawn down to her. His dark eyes softened, the hard, impenetrable edge melting away whenever he looked at her. "Unlike the last batch."
"We don't talk about the last batch," Anna reminded him, though the memory no longer carried the cold terror it once had. The shadows had been swept away, replaced by the steady, unyielding protection of the man standing beside her.
Dominic reached out, slipping his hand into hers. His fingers were warm, rough with calluses from years of holding power, yet remarkably gentle as they interlaced with hers.
"The board meeting in Manhattan went well this morning," Dominic said softly. "The Vaneer family officially ceded control of the northern shipping docks. We have absolute sovereignty over the territory."
"And the cost?" Anna asked, her voice laced with a gentle caution.
"None," Dominic replied, lifting her hand and pressing a light, lingering kiss against her knuckles. "For the first time in ten years, the price was zero."
Across the lawn, Lily suddenly looked up from her block castle, spotting them standing together on the veranda. She waved both arms enthusiastically, flashing a bright, gap-toothed smile.
"Mommy! Dominic! Come play!"
May you like
Anna smiled, squeezing Dominic’s hand before stepping off the veranda.
Dominic followed close behind her, their footsteps falling in perfect rhythm against the sunlit stone path. The past was buried beneath the manicured lawns and blooming white roses, and the future—once so dark and uncertain—stretched out before them, bright, unbroken, and entirely their own.
