Chapter 40
FRANCESCO
Morning settles over the Romano estate like a blessing.
The sun pours through the tall windows of my bedroom, casting streaks of gold across the marble floor.
Outside, the estate grounds stretch on. The green leaves of the trees sway lightly in the soft morning wind.
The air carries a chill, thanks to the heavy rain that bathed the earth overnight.
It feels symbolic, like all our painful pasts have been washed away.
It is a new dawn, a different world from the one I stood in last night.
The Reckoning is over.
A soft snore from my side draws my attention to her. I can’t resist the smile that spreads out on my lips as I take her in.
She’s sleeping on her side, one hand curled beneath her cheek, the other resting gently over her belly.
The morning sunlight spills across the sheets in soft gold, the sheets that have fallen to her waist now, revealing her soft, supple skin.
Her lashes cast faint shadows against her cheeks.
Her dark chestnut hair fans out across the pillow, wild and dark, the same way it looked last night when I tangled my hands through it and told her she was mine.
She is.
More than I ever wanted anyone to be.
I reach out and let my fingers graze her hip, just lightly. Her chest rises and falls with slow, steady breaths. Peaceful. Safe. I let my eyes fall on her pink nipples, and I look away before I start to get aroused.
I already am.
God. She’s so beautiful.
I press a kiss to her bare shoulder before slipping quietly out of bed. I put on some clothes without making a sound, careful not to wake her. She’s earned this rest. We both have.
Before I leave the room, I glance back once. I still can’t believe my luck. I can’t believe the nights of hiding, finding ourselves in the darkness, and making love in secret are all over.
I step into the hallway with a silly smile on my face.
The halls of the estate stretch long and golden in the quiet morning hush.
I walk down the staircase, the sun glinting off the wrought-iron railing. The air smells fresh, a mixture of citrus, lavender, and a distinct smell of the early-blooming roses from the south wing gardens. As I step further down, my nostrils catch another smell—the aroma of freshly baked bread.
I step into the kitchen, and the maids present all look shocked to see me. Greetings rush out of their lips. I respond, but they keep their heads bowed until I grab a cup and a bottle and pour myself a glass of chilled water.
With the glass in hand, I step out of the kitchen and into one of the side parlors, the cold biting against my throat as I take a gulp. I walk to the nearest window and pull it open just enough to let the morning breeze in. It carries the sounds of life. The chirping of birds, the rustle of leaves…
This is what peace sounds like.
My fingers rest lightly against the glass, watching the quiet stir of life below. Some staff are resetting the courtyard. A few gardeners are pruning the flowers. From the kitchen, I can hear the faint clatter of breakfast being prepared.
The house feels lighter. Alive.
For the first time in years, I feel… whole.
No ghosts clawing at my throat. No lies in trying to hide. No desires beyond my reach.
I have everything I could possibly want.
Behind me, I hear heavy footsteps approaching me.
My father.
“Morning, Keeper.” I hear the smirk in his voice.
I glance over my shoulder to look at him. He’s freshly dressed in a navy suit, the Romano crest pinned to his lapel. His hair is slicked back. There’s no trace of fatigue on his face.
“You look like you got some good night’s sleep,” I muse.
“I did, and it was the first time in a while I didn’t dream about taking out my enemies.”
I huff a dry laugh.
He joins me by the window, his reflection catching in the glass beside mine. We stand in silence for a moment, watching everything we’ve bled for.
With arms crossed over his chest as he looks out at the view. “Feels different, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “It does.”
He studies me, something unreadable behind his eyes. “You did what I couldn’t. You freed us.”
I frown. “Freed us from what?”
“From fear,” he says. “From the belief that the Elders were untouchable. That their corruption was just something we had to live with.” His voice sharpens. “You made them bleed, in front of everyone. You cracked something that can’t be sealed again.”
“In the beginning, all I wanted was to keep Lia and our child safe. But then… I couldn’t ignore the rot staring me in the face.”
“And you got that. You stood on the altar and exposed centuries of deceit. That changes everything.”
I’m quiet for a moment, then ask, “What about your plan? All those years… all those people inside the Council. Was it all just to support me? There is no way you could’ve known I would go down this path.
You had to have been quietly instigating something like this for so long. Waiting for the right opportunity.”
A flicker of a smile ghosts his mouth, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You were always part of it. But not the only part. I’ve spent years planting seeds. Quietly. Patiently. You gave them sunlight.”
“So it’s not over?”
“Not even close,” Dante says. “The Reckoning was public. Loud. But the real change will come quietly—through signatures, policies, disappearances. The resistance is in place now, strongly embedded. I am gaining more people on our side now. We won’t need to burn the whole structure down… not if we control it from the inside.”
I nod slowly. “I thought we were done.”
“We’ve just begun.” He turns to face me fully now. “You lit the match, Francesco. But I’m the one who’s been building the fire. I just wish I hadn’t had to burn through so much of myself to get here.” His voice is quieter now. Rougher. And I know who he means—Lia’s father.
I don’t say anything at first. Because what’s there to say? It’s done. It’s the kind of thing you don’t come back from.
“You could’ve done it earlier,” I tell him.
He lets out a hollow laugh. “Maybe. But I was afraid. After your mother… after Lorenzo—I was done burying people I love. Power seemed safer than grief.”
For a long moment, he doesn’t look at me. But when he finally does, I see it: not just regret but pride. Real, unflinching pride.
“But you… You let love be your driving force. You had the guts to burn the world and build it again. You took care of us, and you did it without losing yourself.”
I shake my head. “I did lose myself. I lost myself a long time ago. She just helped me find the pieces.”
He doesn’t need to ask who she is.
“And this is just the beginning.”
I nod slowly. “It is.”
He offers a rare, genuine smile. “Let’s make sure it’s a good one.”
The dining hall is unrecognizable by midday.
Long tables stretch end to end, dressed in white linens and decorated with wildflowers.
Bottles of wine stand between platters of roasted meats, spiced vegetables, and fruits glistening with syrup.
Laughter rises like music in the air, echoing off the high ceilings and spilling out into the gardens beyond.
It’s not just a feast. It’s a celebration. A rebirth.
The Morettis and Romanos mingle, not out of political alliance or obligation, but as friends, just how it used to be many years ago.
It feels strange. Beautiful.
I watch Lia move through the tables like she belongs here. Because she does.
It’s crazy how our fates have changed in a matter of months. The last time we dined with the Morettis, just the two families, she was a mere servant. Now, she looks like a queen.
My queen.
She’s wearing a pale blue silk dress that clings to her soft curves. Her dark hair is swept back into soft waves, and a silver pin holds the curly strands in place. Her chin is high, her gaze steady as she finds me and comes to sit beside me.
“This is your third bathroom break in an hour,” I whisper into her ear, deliberately letting my lips brush against the skin.
She hits my stomach lightly with her elbow. “You did this to me.”
“How is pregnancy going for you, Rosalia?” Elena asks.
Everyone’s attention turns to Lia, and she freezes like a deer in headlights.
“Um…” My hand finds hers, and I squeeze. “Smooth so far.”
“You’re, like, the prettiest pregnant woman I’ve ever seen,” Lucia gushes before taking a large gulp of wine.
I chuckle when I see the tinge of red on Lia’s cheeks.
Lorenzo, who is seated on my other side, grins. “You’ve smiled more between last night and today than all the years of your life combined.”
Everyone laughs.
“Ha, ha. Very funny,” I say dryly.
He raises his glass. “To the end of arranged marriages and the beginning of free ones.”
I clink my glass to his. “To rewriting the rules.”
It wasn’t a revolution, at least not yet.
Just a single clause, tucked deep inside the Society’s ancient decrees.
It was the first rule I changed the moment I took my position as Keeper.
One line, one rule, barely visible but enough.
Enough to make arranged matches no longer mandatory.
Enough to open a door that’s been locked for centuries.
The Elders didn’t protest. Not because they agreed—because they were watching. Measuring. Waiting to see what I’d do with the power I’d claimed. I didn’t win the war. I just moved the first piece.
And in this world, that’s as good as a declaration.
My attention is drawn back to the table at the sound of my father’s loud laughter. He’s mid-conversation with Giovanni, and in that moment, they look like two best friends just chatting about nothing and everything.
And in this strange, rare peace, I feel something shift.
Hope.
I glance at Lorenzo to see a certain look cross his eyes. I know who he’s thinking about.
Benito. His best friend. The one who used to sit beside him at these tables, laughing too loudly and pouring everyone’s drinks like he owned the room.
“You’re thinking about him.”
I don’t have to specify who I mean. He already knows.
“I am,” he says quietly. “Every day.”
I nod, my smile fading. “He’d have been proud of you. He believed in you more than any of us ever did.”
He stares down into his glass. “Then he died for it. He should’ve been here. It’s fucked up, you know. He left a wife and child behind. And I left them too. For years.”
“You didn’t have a choice. You were marked. Going into hiding was the only way to survive.”
His throat bobs. “Doesn’t make it easier. Doesn’t fix what I abandoned.”
I pause, then lower my voice. “How did the Council even let you back in?”
His eyes flick up, sharp again. “They didn’t. Not really. I was supposed to stand trial. But you forced their hand the night of the Reckoning. You cracked the wall I needed to slip through.”
I nod slowly. That makes sense now. They didn’t accept him. I did.
“There were conditions,” he adds. “Surveillance and silence, so I’m not technically reinstated yet.”
“But you’re here,” I say.
He gives a short nod. “For now.”
I see something flicker behind his eyes again—regret, maybe. Or something even more dangerous.
“What about her?” I ask, keeping my tone low.
His grip tightens on the stem of his wine glass. “She’s still wearing his name. Still raising his son. Still pretending like I never existed.”
“And you?”
“Still pretending I don’t love her. It’s what’s best for everyone.”
My heart squeezes, but I place my hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure he’s happy wherever he is. That you’ve reunited with your family. I’m sure he wants you to move on, just like he would want his wife and kid to.”
Lorenzo takes a slow breath, letting my words settle in his chest.
“You’re right,” he murmurs.
The laughter starts getting louder. Lucia and Elio are arguing about something, and I can tell she’s already tipsy. Marco is sitting between the other Moretti siblings, deep in conversation.
I realize I haven’t seen someone, and I glance across the room until I find her.
Silvia.
She’s finished her meal and is standing beside the unlit fireplace, calm and unreadable as ever.
She’s wearing a black dress, her sleeves laced at the cuffs, and for the first time, she’s let her hair pour down her shoulders in soft waves instead of the usual pin-up she always wears.
Her eyes are sharp like glass, studying the table with an unreadable look.
Antonio is standing close behind her, as always, like a fucking watermark.
Wherever she goes, he goes. It’s amusing.
A maid walks past them with a tray, and when she reaches for a glass of champagne, her fingers brush his.
They hold each other’s gaze for a few seconds before she pulls away.
I grin to myself, and that’s when her eyes meet mine.
I raise my eyebrow and raise my glass to her. She smiles at me and does the same.
Not all arranged destinies are set in stone.
And thank fucking god for that.