fiction

Chapter 10 - Happily Ever After

Ten years later, the Moretti estate was a loud, chaotic, beautiful house.

The sprawling gardens were littered with soccer balls, bicycles, and the sound of teenage laughter. In the grand kitchen, Adrien Moretti—now with a few distinguished touches of silver at his temples—stood at the massive marble island, teaching a fourteen-year-old Emma how to properly knead pizza dough.

Clara walked in, holding a steaming cup of coffee, leaning against the doorframe as she watched her husband.

"You know," Clara smiled, taking a sip, "Dante called. He says the syndicates in New York are asking if you're ever coming back to active management."

Adrien wiped flour off his hands, turned around, and wrapped his arms around Clara, pulling her flush against his chest. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

"Tell Dante to lose my number," Adrien murmured, looking out the window where Lily and Sophie were arguing loudly over whose turn it was to walk the golden retriever. "I retired from the mob a long time ago. My only job now is running this family."

Clara laughed, leaning up to kiss him deeply. "The girls still have that old pink notebook, you know. They keep it in the safe."

Adrien raised an eyebrow, a slow, fond smile spreading across his face. "Is that so? What's the current score?"

"A hundred percent," Clara whispered, resting her head against his heart. "They gave you tenure."

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Adrien looked out at his daughters laughing in the golden afternoon sun, then down at the woman who had saved his soul with three pairs of amber eyes and a broken wedding cake. He had walked into Ferrante's years ago a lonely, hardened ghost of a man. Now, he was the richest man in the world.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson, Adrien Moretti knew he would never have to wait alone again.

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