CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
MARIA
Happiness is earned, my father used to say, but there was no way I had earned all of this.
No way in hell.
I hadn’t imagined this moment in my wildest dreams, not the version of it that had come together so perfectly.
A year had passed since Enrico had been taken down, and everything had turned upside down and then back around again.
I still remember how broken I felt at the start, unsure of what the future held and of my place in it. But now, here I was, standing at the edge of a new life, a life that felt more real and more whole than anything I could have ever hoped for.
It was a strange feeling, knowing that this moment had been a long time coming. The walk down the aisle wasn’t just about the promise we were making today but about all the steps we’d taken to get here. I still couldn’t believe how far we had come. There was Lorenzo, waiting at the end of the aisle, standing tall and strong, but his eyes were soft. It was almost like he was waiting for me to prove something to him, even though I’d already done it. We’d done it.
Luca had offered to walk me down the aisle. I hadn’t even hesitated. Despite everything, despite the pain, despite the years of distance, we were a family.
Luca had been the one there, time and again. He had been my rock when I was falling apart. He was the one who made me believe in family when I left. He forgave me without hesitation when I came back. He made me believe in fighting for what was right, even when it seemed impossible. He wasn’t just my brother. He was my anchor.
“So, you are not going to bolt on us this time again?” he teased, and I smiled, recalling how I had run away years back from the very thing, the very person that saved me.
Lorenzo.
“Never,” I responded with a smile. I didn’t have a smile last time, but I did now, knowing this was right.
I reached out, taking Luca’s arm, and the warmth of his touch steadied me as we moved forward.
Every step felt surreal like I was walking on air. My heart beat in rhythm with the soft, delicate music playing in the background, the sweet melody blending with the quiet murmurs of the guests.
There were so many familiar faces in the crowd. Kayla was smiling proudly from the front row; Matteo was dressed in a little suit and standing right beside Lorenzo, his little face full of wonder. He looked so much like his father at that moment, and I couldn’t help but smile, feeling the weight of everything we’d been through finally lift. Then, there was Isabella, who seemed to be the happiest person in the room with the biggest grin. I smiled back at her.
When we reached the end of the aisle, Luca placed my hand in Lorenzo’s. I thought I might break down right then and there, the emotions crashing over me like a wave I couldn’t hold back.
Lorenzo’s grip was firm, warm, and steady. He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting mine. It was like we were the only two people in the world, and nothing else mattered.
“You came this time,” he whispered. “I thought you would run away like last time.”
“Well, I am still considering it,” I teased, and he smiled.
“Russo, you will be the death of me.”
“And you, me, Bianchi,” I responded.
“You ready?” Lorenzo asked, his voice low and a little rough like he was just as overcome with emotion as I was.
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Ready,” I whispered.
The vows came next. It was almost funny. One year ago, we thought that we would be saying this from a place of a lie to get some inheritance.
It was funny because we’d said everything we needed to say a thousand times before. Every action, every look, every touch had spoken the words we could never fully articulate. But today, we were here and surrounded by the people who had always been there for us. And today, we would say it out loud.
Lorenzo took my hands in his, his eyes glistening. He didn’t have to speak to make me understand. He never had to. But when he did speak, his words hit me like an avalanche of love.
“Maria,” he began, his voice trembling with emotion, “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. You are the woman I want beside me for the rest of my life. I’ve spent so many years fighting against my feelings, against what I knew in my heart, but now, there’s nothing left to fight. I’m here, and I’m yours, for always. I promise to be the father Matteo deserves, to be the man you deserve.”
Tears pricked at the corner of my eyes, and I squeezed his hands, feeling the weight of his words settle in my chest. I could see the sincerity and the unwavering commitment on his face. He wasn’t just saying this because it was what was expected; he was saying it because he meant it with every part of him.
My heart pounded in my chest, a familiar rhythm I had come to associate with Lorenzo, every beat a promise, a reminder of everything we had been through. I had no script, no fancy words, just the truth.
“I’ve always known it was you,” I said softly, the words coming out like they were written on my soul. “From right when we were just kids, it was you. You were the one I was meant to be with. I fought it, and I ran from it, but I couldn’t hide. I don’t think I ever really wanted to. You’ve been the one to teach me that family isn’t about blood. It’s about love. It’s about standing together, no matter what life throws at us. You’ve made me feel safe, and I promise to stand by you, always, through everything. I love you.”
I saw his eyes flash with something so raw and so deep that I couldn’t help but feel it, too. Our love wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t supposed to be. It was messy and complicated, and sometimes, it didn’t make sense. But it was ours.
This wasn’t just a marriage. It was a bond forged in fire, tested by loss, and sealed with love. And as I looked around at the faces of those I loved, his mother, Kayla, and Luca, I realized that this was what mattered. This was the family we had built. Not just the one we were born into but the one we had fought for.
Then, as if it had been planned from the start, Matteo turned to Lorenzo, his little voice breaking the silence.
“Daddy,” he said, his eyes wide, his face filled with so much innocence and trust.
Lorenzo froze, and for a moment, I thought he might crumble. Instead, he bent down, pulled Matteo into his arms, and held him close. The look on his face was pure adoration, pride, and love. It was everything.
“Yes, son,” Lorenzo said, his voice thick with emotion, the words barely audible. “Matteo. My son.”
I didn’t think I could hold it in anymore. I was so overwhelmed, happy, and thankful for this moment, for this family. It felt like everything we had ever gone through, all the pain and all the struggle, had led to this—this perfect, beautiful moment.
And as the crowd cheered and the music swelled, Lorenzo kissed me, and it wasn’t just a kiss—it was everything.
*****
I still remember the night Lorenzo’s mother called us. The phone rang quietly in the stillness of our home. Lorenzo had just tucked Matteo into bed, and I was in the kitchen, preparing dinner, when I saw the caller ID. I could tell something was wrong. The way her name blinked on the screen made my heart skip a beat.
“Lorenzo, it’s your mom,” I called out softly. I had spoken to her often since the wedding. We went visiting, but life had moved fast, and we were wrapped up in our own little world. Tonight, there was something about the way her name flashed on the phone that made me pause.
Lorenzo picked up, his usual confident expression faltering when he heard her voice. I could tell by the way he stood still, eyes closing for a moment, that he was bracing himself for something he knew was coming.
“Mom, what is it?” he asked, his voice low.
I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But somehow, the weight of the moment pulled me in. I stopped chopping the vegetables, placing the knife down carefully, suddenly feeling as if the world had stilled around me.
“I’m so proud of you, my son,” his mother’s voice crackled through the phone. It was faint, as though she was speaking from a distance, but her words were clear and steady. “You’ve made your life, and you’ve made it so beautiful. And I see the love you have. I see how you take care of her and how you care for Matteo.”
Lorenzo’s hand gripped the counter. He was trying to hold himself together, but I could hear the tremor in his voice when he answered. “Mom, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”
“Don’t be scared, son.” Her voice softened. “I’m just so happy and so proud. You’ve made me so proud. You and Maria, and Matteo. I know now that you have everything you need. I know that you’ll take care of each other, and you’ve made my heart rest easy. I don’t want to hold on any longer. I’m ready, Lorenzo. I’m ready to rest, knowing that you’re in good hands.”
A breath hitched in my throat, and I watched as Lorenzo’s eyes welled with tears. He hadn’t said anything, but I knew that what she was saying was the final goodbye.
I could hear her breathing faintly, and I could tell she was smiling, the kind of smile only a mother gives, full of warmth and unconditional love. “Maria, darling,” she whispered, as if speaking to me directly, “take care of my son. Take care of him, as you always do. And remember, it’s not just him you have. You have each other. Don’t ever forget that.”
I felt the tears well up, but I didn’t move. I stayed there, silently, my heart aching as I watched Lorenzo struggle to find his words. Finally, he spoke, his voice thick with emotion.
“I love you, Mom,” he whispered, his words barely audible, “I always will. Thank you for everything.”
The line went silent. And just like that, Isabella Bianchi, who had been a quiet, steady force in his life, was gone. The nurse, who must have been standing there with her, confirmed it minutes later. The world had shifted again, and this time, it was something we couldn’t control. It was something we had to accept. She had fought in pain for so long and held on with the suffering for us.
Lorenzo stood there, holding the phone, looking out of the window at the quiet street below. I walked to him quietly and wrapped my arms around him. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. I could feel his heart breaking in his chest, feel the weight of all the years of guilt and love he’d carried for her.
“It’s okay, Lorenzo,” I whispered, “she’s at peace now.”
He nodded slowly, his body shaking, and I just held him tighter, letting the silence stretch between us, letting him breathe. He needed to grieve, and I needed to let him. And we would do that together.