Epilogue
New Year’s Eve four years later, Puglia
SANTO WOULD NEVER grow tired of the sound of children’s laughter. It pealed through the house and out on the wind, carried to him as he made his way home from the olive groves. There had been a time, in the not so distant past, when he would never have thought it possible to feel such a thing, knowing the promise he’d made to himself growing up with Gallo’s fury. And now he was determined to fill his estate with as many different cries of joy, laughter and happiness as he could.
Since walking out of the Fouriers’ party in Brussels four years ago, his life had changed considerably, and he didn’t regret a single moment of it. Thankfully, the work he’d done to disengage himself from Edward Carson in the preceding years had significantly lessened the financial blows that fell.
But he was still hit hard. Some of the families had followed Carson’s lead in wreaking their revenge, but a surprising number of them hadn’t. And even more surprising was how quickly the group of twelve families had fractured and broken apart in the years following. Some of the younger generation had little inclination for the cut-throat backstabbing that their forefathers had gone in for, and there had been an exodus as they followed Santo’s suit.
The Sabatini Group had been forced to trim down operations in the wake of existing stakeholders’ internal fighting. However, the resulting loss of their income had forced them to cut their losses or sell out. All of which was more than fine with Santo. It had simply meant that he could focus his business life on his venture with Mads Rassmussen and his personal life on Eleanor, on his relationship with his mother, with Pietro...with himself.
Santo had started that process four years ago and it hadn’t been easy to work to rebuild some of the damage his father had done in his early years. Becoming a father himself had been the most incredible moment of his life, but also one of the hardest as he’d struggled to understand his father’s actions and his complex feelings about his mother.
Eleanor had been there to support him every step of the way, but the help he’d needed went beyond her abilities. He’d started to see a counsellor for himself, but also for his children, wanting to make sure that he didn’t repeat the pain of his childhood on them. And while it was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, every single minute he spent with his children showed him how much it was worth it—to make sure that they grew up with the kind of emotional strength and stability that he’d never had.
Eleanor had borne his emotional storms with a love and patience that astounded him and no one had cheered him on more as he’d created a charity for victims of domestic violence here in Puglia. He’d wanted her to be a part of it, but she was right, again, in that it was something that should be his alone.
He looked up at the light in the children’s window and saw Eleanor’s outline in the gauzy curtains billowing in the cool dusk breeze. She was getting them ready for the New Year’s party that evening. He checked his watch; if he didn’t get a move on he’d be late.
Santo cut through the garden and came into the villa by the back door, taking the stairs up to the second floor at a jog, stopping the moment he heard that sound again.
A fit of near hysterical giggles.
Only one thing caused that sound. His wife tickling their oldest. Little Pietro had inherited his mother’s skin and sensitivity, but his father’s humour and cheek. It was a lethal combination.
Their daughter Lucia had his eyes and from the first moment he’d looked on them he’d felt the erasure of pain when seeing his own reflection. His eyes were his daughter’s, not his father’s, and that meant more than he could ever hope to put into words. She had a mop of adorable blonde curls, but his mother informed him that they would eventually darken over time, just like they had with him. Personality-wise, though, she took very much after her mother and he adored her.
‘Santo?’ Eleanor called and he smiled to himself. She always knew when he was near.
‘Sì?’
‘Can you please convince your son that he needs to wear trousers for this evening?’
Santo came down the corridor to the bedroom opposite his and his wife’s, and peered in with a frown.
‘I’m not sure I can do that,’ he said with grave seriousness.
‘Oh, really? And why would that be, husband?’ Eleanor asked with a raised eyebrow, but the glint in her eye told him that she knew there was mischief afoot.
‘Because I don’t think he should wear trousers this evening.’
Pietro jumped up and down, celebrating exuberantly.
‘And if he’s not wearing trousers this evening, then I don’t need to wear trousers either,’ Santo announced with a flourish.
Pietro stopped in an instant. ‘No, Papà. You have to wear trousers!’
‘But I can’t leave you to be the only person not wearing trousers. So I’ll keep you company by not wearing trousers.’
His gorgeous little boy frowned, trying to work through the complex reasoning of his desire to not wear trousers and his intense dislike of his father not doing so. It looked almost painful, and Santo tried very hard not to laugh.
‘Papà wear my dress?’ two-and-a-half-year-old Lucia offered in broken English.
‘Oh, can I?’ Santo asked with absolute delight.
‘I’m not sure you’ll fit,’ Eleanor mused.
‘I absolutely will fit,’ Santo replied dramatically. ‘Here, I’ll show you.’
And both of his children descended into even more laughter as he toed off his shoe and tried to put his foot in Lucia’s dress.
Eleanor didn’t think she could love her husband any more than she did in that moment. This was everything she had never dared to dream that she could have.
It seemed incredible that she even wanted to celebrate New Year’s Eve after the awfulness of the ten occasions she’d spent in different cities around Europe. But Santo had done that for her—healed parts of her that she’d never even known were damaged.
She still felt raw that he had suffered so much after the broken ties with the twelve families. She had grown up in business, become an adult in business. She knew the impact of the devastating loss and betrayal from such a large number of investors in the Sabatini Group.
Santo had done everything he could to reassure her that he was fine with reducing the company in the way he had been forced to do, and she believed him. It didn’t stop her being angry for him though. And there had been quite a lot of anger for her to deal with in the months that had followed their escape.
Because that was what she’d seen it as. An escape. She had been imprisoned by lies and manipulation, and freedom had been quite an adjustment. But Santo had loved her through it all. Reassured her, soothed her, accepted her in every possible way.
It would have been so easy for him to dominate the relationship she had with Pietro, but he had encouraged her to find her own way with her biological father and it had meant everything to her. That he accepted the complexity of her feelings towards both her parents was huge for her. Parents who would, for the first time, be together under this roof tonight.
Much had changed in her mother’s life, and Freddie’s too. Analise had stayed with Edward until Freddie was eighteen years old and then moved out into a little flat, cutting all ties with her husband apart from communication via her lawyers. Freddie had gone with her and together they had weathered the storm of Edward’s wrath.
Eleanor had begged them to come and stay with her and Santo, who would have welcomed them with open arms, but Analise and Freddie insisted that they wanted to handle it their way and she’d respected that. Freddie had grown into a man in so many ways since then. He was now at university and seeing a girl he’d met there, both of whom would also be coming tonight.
Santo’s mother would also be joining them and bringing her companion. It had taken a while for Santo to warm to Enrico but the man had earned his grudging respect for the way that he treated his mother and she could tell that there was a sense of peace about Santo now that his mother had eventually found her own happiness. It was a peace that soothed many old hurts for her husband and, for that, she would be thankful for ever to Enrico.
‘Right, you terrors, I’m going to leave you in your father’s capable hands while I get myself ready. In my own dress. One that actually fits!’ she cried, giving them all a last final kiss before getting into the shower.
Washed, scrubbed, moisturised and bright pink from the heat of the water, Eleanor wiped the steam away from the mirror. Wrapped in a towel and nothing else, she thought she saw traces of the girl who had so optimistically entered the Hall of Antiquities in Munich thirteen years ago. There were laughter lines at her eyes now, knowing in her gaze, a few healed scars and a sense of self she’d never have had without the journey she had taken to be here.
And she’d change nothing. She loved the person she was, the man she’d married and the children she’d born with a passion and fervour she’d not known, let alone thought herself capable of. What she had achieved with Santo was a life, a home, a family that she was proud of.
Tears pressed against the backs of her eyes and she waved her hand at them to stop them from falling. She needed to put on her make-up and she couldn’t get this emotional yet.
‘ Il mio cuore , what’s wrong?’ Santo asked, stepping into the bathroom behind her and wrapping her in his arms.
‘Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just being silly,’ she dismissed, feeling the tears press even harder against her eyes. Oh, stupid hormones! They were going to give it all away. ‘I’m just so thankful for all that we have,’ she said, holding his gaze in the reflection of the mirror.
His heart was in his eyes. She saw it every time he looked at her, at their children. The love he gave them was incredible.
‘I never thought that I would feel this much love in my life. You brought that to me, and there isn’t a minute of a single day that I’m not thankful for it,’ he said, pulling her gently back against his chest.
Eleanor sighed, a small smile playing at her lips. She was never any good at keeping secrets anyway.
‘Do you think there might be room for a little more?’
‘A little more what?’ he asked.
‘A little more love to give. Because I have some news,’ she confessed, turning in his arms and whispering that she was pregnant into his ear.
This time it was Santo’s joy and laughter that could be heard from outside the villa as the Sabatini family members gathered to celebrate the happy news on New Year’s Eve.