Chapter 9 - Spring in Tarrytown
Six months later, the grounds of the Moretti estate looked entirely different.
The harsh, gray winter had melted away under a brilliant spring sun, replacing the frozen mud with vibrant green lawns, blooming cherry blossoms, and neat flower beds that stretched along the stone pathways. The armed guards at the gates still wore their suits and carried their radios, but the atmosphere had shifted. There was less shouting, fewer sirens in the night, and a strange, unexpected sense of peace settling over the Westchester hills.
Inside the grand mansion, the changes were even more profound.
The staff quarters had been entirely remodeled. The old, cramped rooms had been torn down to build modern, comfortable apartments for every employee, complete with fair wages, health benefits, and actual time off. The gossip among the maids had stopped—not because people were afraid, but because nobody had anything bad to say anymore.
And Hannah Bell was no longer hiding behind a laundry cart.
On a warm Saturday afternoon in May, Hannah stood on the wide stone terrace overlooking the Hudson River, wearing a light linen sundress of soft lavender. Her hair was gathered in a loose braid, caught by the gentle spring breeze. In her arms, she held a fat, contented orange tabby cat—the very stray she used to feed behind the kitchen, now officially the master of the terrace.
Footsteps echoed softly on the stone behind her.
Strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind, and a familiar chin rested gently on her shoulder.
“You’re thinking too hard,” Lorenzo murmured, kissing the side of her neck. He was dressed casually in a navy blue sweater and slacks, looking healthier, happier, and more relaxed than he had in a decade.
Hannah leaned back against his chest, smiling as she stroked the cat’s soft fur. “I’m not thinking hard. I’m just enjoying the quiet.”
“Quiet is good,” Lorenzo agreed. “Though Dante tells me the new shipping contracts in Brooklyn are turning a record profit, so we might not have quiet for long.”
“Dante can handle the docks for one weekend,” Hannah teased, turning slightly in his arms to face him. “After all, we have a wedding to plan.”
Lorenzo’s dark eyes softened with an expression that no rival boss, no federal prosecutor, and no treacherous capo had ever been privileged to see. It was the look of a man who had walked through the shadow of death and found paradise waiting on the other side.
“A wedding,” Lorenzo repeated, his voice low and tender. “And where would you like it, Hannah? Chicago? New York? Or right here in the gardens where you saved my life?”
May you like
“Here,” Hannah said without a moment's hesitation, her fingers tracing the lapel of his sweater. “Right here where nobody thought I mattered.”
Lorenzo smiled, capturing her lips in a deep, warm kiss that tasted of spring, survival, and a future that belonged entirely to them.
