Epilogue
BELLE
The Moretti estate has been transformed into something from a fever dream—if fever dreams involved unlimited budgets and a man determined to give his bride a day worthy of fairy tales.
White roses cascade from every stone arch like waterfalls of silk.
Thousands of candles turn the gardens into a constellation brought to earth.
Crystal catches light and throws it back in rainbow fragments across tables laden with champagne and possibility.
It's obscene and gorgeous and so perfectly Luca—equal parts cathedral and coronation, sacred and dangerous.
And somehow, it's my wedding.
I should be nervous. Most brides are.
But all I feel is this wild, dizzy ache in my chest, like the universe finally stopped kicking me around and decided to give me one day drenched in beauty.
Also, my arms hurt because I'm carrying a six-month-old in lace. So maybe my mood is layered.
Leo gurgles in my arms, tugging at the delicate gold lace of my gown with fat baby fists.
I should probably tell him not to slobber on couture, but honestly? He can ruin everything I own and I'll still call him perfect.
His round cheeks, his ridiculous lashes, that mop of dark hair—he's Luca in miniature, only more drool and less scowl.
"Don't worry," I whisper against his forehead as we wait for our cue. "Mama's got you. Try not to scream during the vows, okay? We'll bribe you with cake. Whatever it takes."
Sofia leads our procession like she's conquering kingdoms, not scattering rose petals.
The crystal tiara she insisted on catches sunlight as she moves, each step deliberate and dramatic.
She's seven now, and every inch the little empress.
Bruno walks beside her in his custom bowtie, the picture of canine dignity despite the absurdity of formal wear.
He's appointed himself her personal guardian, and takes the job seriously enough to ignore Meatball's attempts to trip him.
Behind us, Meatball ambles down the path like he owns the estate.
Which, in his head, he probably does. The cat is chaos in fur, but apparently he made the guest list too. Don't ask me how.
The music swells. My heart does that stupid flutter thing. And then I see him.
Luca.
Standing at the altar in a black-on-black suit, looking like sin got dressed up for Sunday service.
His hair slicked back, jaw sharp enough to kill, eyes locked on me like I'm the only thing alive.
God. That look. That look is enough to drop me to my knees, if the lace and the baby didn't make that logistically impossible.
I start down the aisle. Not gracefully. More like a determined waddle, curves hugged tight by my gown, baby balanced on one hip.
And still, Luca stares at me like I'm the most dangerous, beautiful thing he's ever seen.
I glance at Sofia tossing petals in front of me and can't help grinning. "Don't trip, princess. You'll ruin my dramatic entrance."
"Don't trip yourself, Mama," she shoots back without missing a step. Sass is genetic, apparently.
Bruno woofs in agreement. Meatball ignores us all.
When I finally reach him, Luca's hands are already outstretched—not for me, but for Leo.
He lifts our son into his arms like he's made of glass, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
The sight of it almost knocks me over. The Beast, cradling a baby like he's holy.
"You look perfect," Luca murmurs to me, voice rough enough that I know he means it.
"You're just saying that because I'm carrying your child's food supply," I whisper back, because someone has to keep us honest.
His grin is quick, devastating, and private. Then the officiant clears his throat and begins.
The words wash over me—vows, promises, forever talk—but all I can focus on is Luca's eyes, dark and steady, anchored on me.
When it's his turn, he doesn't even look at the paper he wrote.
"You walked into my world like a storm," he says, voice carrying across the garden. "All fire and defiance and stubborn hope. You saw past the monster everyone else feared and found the man I thought I'd buried with Elena."
His voice cracks slightly. "You made me a father again. You made me human again. You loved Sofia like she was yours from the first day. You gave me Leo. You gave me a reason to build something beautiful instead of just protecting what I had."
Cue the waterworks. From me, from Sofia, from half the guards pretending they're allergic to flowers.
When it's my turn, I manage to say something coherent—something about how he ruined me for any other man, how I fell for the Beast and found the man underneath.
It's messy and it's mine, and he listens like every word is a vow carved in stone.
The rings slide onto fingers. The kiss comes hot and hungry, church rules be damned.
Leo squeals like he's cheering us on, and the crowd laughs.
The reception is a blur of champagne flutes, Sofia sneaking extra cake, and Bruno lying under the table like he's eaten his weight in steak.
Meatball steals shrimp off someone's plate and vanishes like a ghost.
My father sits at the head table, eyes wet, face soft in a way I never thought I'd see again.
At one point, Luca leans over, murmuring against my ear, "This is just the beginning."
And I believe him.
Because for the first time in forever, my life isn't a battlefield. It's a family.
A messy, loud, beautiful family with a cat that won't obey orders and a dog that would die for me and a man who already did everything but.
As night settles over our celebration, fairy lights turn the gardens into something magical.
Leo sleeps against my shoulder, perfect and peaceful.
Sofia spins in her tiara while Bruno follows like her devoted knight.
Meatball has claimed the head table and surveys his kingdom with typical feline superiority.
My father sits with tears in his eyes, holding a champagne flute like it contains all his gratitude.
Luca's hand finds mine, fingers intertwining, and when I look at him, I see everything we've built together reflected in his smile.
This is the life I never dared to dream. The family I never thought I deserved.
The love that grew from the ashes of deals and debts and desperate choices.
He was the Beast, but I became the reason he built the castle around us.