40. Lucrezia
3 Months Later
The gentle crash of waves against the cliffs below reaches my ears, mingling with the heady fragrance of blooming honeysuckle that drapes over the stone walls of the old coastal villa. A warm breeze carries the salt air inland, ruffling the leaves of the olive trees planted in neat rows along the terraced gardens. If I close my eyes, I can almost convince myself that the past few months were a fever dream.
I’m perched on a cushioned stone bench at the edge of the villa’s terrace, letting the Mediterranean sun wash over my skin. The sprawling estate is just down the road from the convent my brother exiled me to. I cradle a glass of chilled prosecco, watching sunlight dance off the bubbles that fizz and pop against the rim, and wonder how I got to be so lucky.
Raiden sits beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off of him. He wears a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal his tanned forearms. A few scars map out his past, faint white lines on sun-bronzed skin, but all I can think is how this man—this rough, brutal, tender man—feels more like home than any place I’ve ever been. Our knees bump, and I catch his eyes in the shifting golden light. He smiles, just a small quirk of his lips, but it tugs at something inside me that I’m only now learning to identify as contentment.
“How’s the hand?” I ask softly, nodding toward his mangled knuckles. The worst of the broken bones from Kristopher’s assault have mended, but others remain wrapped to support the lingering fractures.
Raiden lifts his hand, flexing experimentally and wincing a little. “I’ve felt better,” he admits, turning his palm to catch a beam of sunlight. “Doc says a few more weeks before I can punch something without risking permanent damage.”
I laugh, the sound lighter than I recall it ever being. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go around breaking bones for a while.”
His grin deepens, and for a heartbeat, I remember the last moment when he kissed me on the forehead before beating Kristopher to death. He penned a love letter to me in blood, violence, and murder, and I’ll never forget it. “Guess I’ll do it your way,” he acquiesces, eyes dancing with affection.
We lapse into a comfortable silence, watching the waves crest and shatter far below. My chest clenches with a fleeting pang when I remember how everything ended three months ago. But life has an odd way of moving on, dragging you with it whether you’re ready or not.
Saverio steps onto the terrace, and I straighten automatically, old habits of caution creeping in like a second skin. But his expression is open, softer than I’m used to seeing. A faint smile tugs at his lips as he regards Raiden and me side by side, his gaze lingering on my face.
“Enjoying the sun?” he asks, gesturing to the pair of empty glasses on the small table between us. His voice carries none of the tension that used to color our every interaction.
I lift the half-full glass in my hand, watching sunlight dance through the amber liquid. “It tastes better under an Italian sky. Come on, brother, you should know that,” I tease, surprising myself with how naturally the word brother slips out. There’s a time I never thought I’d use it for him again.
Saverio chuckles, the sound warm and genuine. “I’ve never doubted the wine was good. Just never thought I’d share it like this.” He glances at Raiden, something like approval flickering in his eyes that would have been unthinkable months ago. “Lucia and Riccardo are inside, taking a nap. I’d offer them up for entertainment, but toddlers don’t do polite conversation. Especially not when they’re cranky from missed sleep.”
I can’t stop the small surge of emotion in my chest at the mention of my nephew. It’s weird finding a place in this side of the family after all these years, learning the rhythms of their daily lives, becoming part of their story. But I feel no resentment, just quiet acceptance, like a wound that’s finally scarred over. We might figure it out , I think. We’re trying. And sometimes, trying is enough.
“Stay awhile,” I suggest, gesturing to the extra seat. “We can pretend we’re civilized for once. Maybe even make it through a whole bottle without attempting to kill each other.”
Saverio hesitates, then shakes his head. “I’m meeting Daniela downstairs. She’s complaining about the villa’s hidden passages.” A quirk of his lips betrays his amusement. “But Lucrezia,” he adds more quietly, “I just wanted to say—again— that I’m glad you’re here with us. We can finally be the family we were supposed to be our whole lives.”
I nod, swallowing around the lump that forms in my throat. “Thank you,” I manage softly. He returns the nod, throwing a last glance at Raiden, then disappears back inside.
I exhale and turn to Raiden. The tension bleeds from my shoulders, leaving me lighter than before. “I guess that’s that. Saverio might be half-proud I’m alive after everything.”
Raiden’s hand finds mine, threading his fingers through mine. “He’s more than half-proud,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing gentle circles on my wrist. “You proved them all wrong, you know. You survived everything and came out stronger.”
I rest my head against Raiden’s shoulder, inhaling the faint smell of his cologne. “I wouldn’t have survived if weren’t for you.”
“You’d have found a way,” he says with a hint of pride in his tone. “But I’m glad I could help.”
A moment passes, the sun tilting lower in the sky, painting the horizon with streaks of orange and pink that reflect off the scattered clouds. I savor the way Raiden’s body feels beside me, solid and comforting.
We sip our drinks in unspoken gratitude until Raiden sets his glass down and shifts to face me fully. There’s a flicker of anxiety in his eyes, an unusual uncertainty that makes my pulse quicken. His fingers tremble slightly as he reaches into his pocket and produces a small ring, a simple silver band with an understated ruby gemstone gleaming in the center.
My heart flutters and I feel my breath catch in my throat. “What’s that?” I whisper, gaze locked on the ring.
“Not a formal proposal,” he cautions, running his thumb nervously along the band’s smooth edge, “but a promise. I don’t know what marriage looks like for us. I don’t know if you even want that—maybe you’re done letting men define your future. But I want… I want to build something with you, Lucrezia, in whatever form it takes. Something real and lasting, on our own terms.”
Emotion wells up in me, warm and overwhelming. Slowly, I extend my hand and let him slip the ring onto my finger. It fits snugly, the weight of it both foreign and somehow perfectly right. My throat constricts with a surge of love so intense it’s almost painful. The ruby catches the dying light, throwing tiny crimson reflections across our joined hands.
“Thank you,” I manage, eyes stinging with tears I refuse to let fall. “You’re right—I don’t need a proposal or a piece of paper. But I want to stand beside you, free to walk away anytime, free to stay if I choose. And I do choose. Every day, I choose this, I choose you.”
Raiden’s face breaks into a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners with uncharacteristic warmth. “Then I guess we’re in agreement.”
I laugh with genuine, unguarded emotion. “An arrangement suited to two broken souls.”
“And healing ones,” he adds, brushing a strand of my hair back with a gentleness that makes my heart stutter. His fingertips linger against my temple. “We’re not broken forever, Lucrezia. Maybe we’re just learning how to put ourselves back together differently.”
I can’t help but recall what I once told myself: that I was doomed to wander alone, exiled by my blood, haunted by my need for revenge. Now, I realize how small those beliefs were, how they kept me caged me in walls of my own making. The men and women I’d scorned don’t define me any more than the scars that mark my skin. My anger doesn’t define me either, though it burned hot enough to consume everything else for so long. I define me, in all my complicated, messy glory. I shape my own tomorrow with hands that are learning to create rather than destroy, and that tomorrow includes a life with Raiden, friends who’ve proven their worth, and a family I’m learning how to trust again, one careful step at a time.
The sun sets in a blaze of pink and orange, painting the villa in twilight colors. Raiden reaches over and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You know,” he begins, “I never thought my life would lead here. I didn’t think I’d ever fall in love again. But you changed everything.”
I exhale, words slipping free and unafraid. “You changed everything for me, too. I thought violence and revenge were the only home I’d ever know.” A gentle breeze lifts the hair off my neck, and I catch the fleeting scent of lavender from the garden below.
He laces our fingers together and presses them to his heart. The hush of the sea, the warm flicker of lanterns, the villa’s quiet grandeur—it feels like I’m stepping into the life I once believed was impossible. The life I might have dreamed of as a child before the darkness set in.
We sit in silence until the sun fully disappears, replaced by stars blinking into existence overhead. There, under the slow dance of constellations, I realize with unwavering certainty that this is my happily ever after. It is not a perfect ending; it is a beginning full of light and possibility. One built on ashes, yes, but the strongest foundations sometimes rise from the ruins.
I am Lucrezia Castiglione, a woman changed by the madness I’ve lived through, the heartbreak I’ve endured, and the people who refused to let me go. Italy was once a reminder of everything I lost. Now, it’s a testament to what I’ve found: love, acceptance, and life.
And it’s more than enough.