Chapter 34 Caelian
THIRTY-FOUR
Caelian
Three years later…
I’m deep in sleep when the door bangs open.
Before I can fully process what’s happening, two small bodies launch themselves onto the bed. The mattress bounces as tiny feet jump up and down, high-pitched voices disrupting the peaceful morning quiet.
“Wake up, Daddy! Wake up!”
I crack one eye open to find Ravi and Siena bouncing beside me like little cannons, their curls wild from sleep, still wearing their pajamas—Ravi in emerald green, Siena in lavender. Their fingers are already sticky with syrup from what I assume was an early breakfast courtesy of Ms. Poitier.
“What are you doing?” I groan, voice rough with sleep. “It’s too early to be so noisy.”
They giggle—the sound warming my chest—and then both launch themselves directly at me.
“Oof!”
The air rushes from my lungs as thirty pounds of toddler times two lands on my stomach.
But I’m already wrapping my arms around them, pulling them down even further as I shift into my “monster” voice.
“You better be careful, or Beasty will come out!”
Their eyes go wide with delighted terror.
“No, Daddy, no!” Siena squeals.
“Too late!” I growl, my fingers finding their ticklish spots. “You came into the monster’s lair! Now you must feel the wrath of his tickles!”
The room erupts in chaos. Ravi squirms and wiggles, trying desperately to escape while laughing so hard he can barely breathe. Siena grabs at my beard with her sticky fingers, tugging hard enough to make me wince.
“Give me back my daddy, you mean Beasty!” she demands between giggles.
I keep up the tickle attack, my hands relentless as they try to escape.
Ravi almost makes it off the bed before I catch him by the ankle, dragging him back into the fray.
Siena is braver, or maybe just more stubborn—she stands her ground, still pulling at my beard like she can actually wrestle me into submission.
“What is all this racket?”
Nevaeh appears in the doorway, arms crossed but her smile giving away her amusement. She’s still in her long robe and matching pajama top and bottoms, dark hair pulled up in a messy bun.
Beautiful doesn’t even begin to cover it. My wife is gorgeous even bare faced in the morning.
The twins freeze for half a second, panting and breathless, their curls even more disheveled than before.
“Mommy!” Ravi gasps. “Beasty got us!”
“You did go and wake the beast,” Nevaeh says, walking into the room with a light laugh. “What did you expect?”
I grin up at her, and before she can anticipate my move, I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her onto the bed. “Mommy can get tickles from Beasty too!”
“Cael, don’t you dare—”
But I’m already attacking her with tickles along her ribs.
The twins join in with renewed energy. The four of us become a tangle of limbs and laughter, Nevaeh squirming and shrieking while trying to fend off both me and our children.
Ravi goes for her sides while Siena somehow ends up sitting on her mother’s legs.
I focus on the spot on her ribs that always makes her lose it.
“Okay, okay!” Nevaeh gasps between laughs. “I surrender! Beasty wins!”
We finally collapse in a heap, all four of us breathless and grinning. Ravi is sprawled across my chest, Siena has wormed herself between Nevaeh and me. My wife’s head rests on my shoulder as we all catch our breath.
These mornings. I’ve truly come to love them.
Three years ago, I never imagined this. Being a father to two incredible kids. Having lazy mornings filled with laughter instead of violence and brutality like I once envisioned for my life.
I study my children as they recover from the tickle assault.
Ravello, with his serious little face even now, already looking like he’s a miniature man with tough responsibilities and burdens.
He’s got my classic Italian features—the strong nose and the squared jaw that’ll only broaden when he’s older—but Nevaeh’s beautiful dark eyes and curls.
He’s cautious, thoughtful, precocious in a way that’s impressive and amusing all at once.
Siena is pure chaos incarnate. Wild, free-spirited, fearless, my little girl is a handful.
She looks like a mini version of Nevaeh—a shade or two browner than her brother, with thick, dark chocolate hair that’s always escaping whatever style we try to put it in.
But she’s going to be tall. I can already see it in the length of her legs.
She’s going to tower over her petite ballerina mother by the time she’s a teenager.
The thought of teenage Siena makes me want to build higher walls around the estate.
“Alright, little ones,” Nevaeh says, sitting up and smoothing down her pajama shirt. “You’re going to miss the rest of your cartoon if you stay up here bothering Beasty. You have to finish your breakfast first, remember?”
“Oh no!” Ravi’s eyes go wide with genuine distress, and both Nevaeh and I burst out laughing.
It’s so perfectly Ravi—taking everything with the utmost seriousness.
The twins scramble off the bed, sticky fingers and all, racing for the door. Nevaeh moves to follow them, but I catch her arm and pull her back. My lips find hers in a kiss of affection.
“Good morning, mia bella ballerina,” I murmur against her mouth.
She smirks, a mischievous glint in her gaze. “Good morning, Beasty.”
I want to pull her back into bed and spend the morning wrapped around her like we used to before kids made our intimate mornings a rare occurrence.
But she slips from my grasp with a laugh, following our children out of the room.
I take my time getting up, stretching muscles that don’t ache as badly as they used to.
The last three years have been... incredible. They’ve been unexpected.. Everything I never knew I wanted.
My marriage to Nevaeh is full of love and passion. The kind of partnership I saw other men have and assumed wasn’t meant for brutal mafia men like me. But she challenges me, supports me, calls me on my bullshit when necessary, and loves me despite my rough edges and many scars.
And watching her become a mother? It’s made me fall in love with her all over again in a whole new way. The fierce protectiveness, the gentle patience, and the way she cares for our children show how extraordinary she is.
The twins are... everything. Exhausting and hilarious and so full of personality it amazes us daily. They’ve turned this cold estate into an actual warm home. Their laughter echoes through halls that used to only know silence and cobwebs.
Work has been better than ever too. The Ziccardi family dominates Dresden in ways my father could never achieve. But I don’t rule through outright fear like Nero and the Vorones did.
My people are loyal because I’m fair but tough and uncompromising, not because they’re terrified.
Dresden is mine. But more importantly, I have a life outside of the empire. I have a family worth coming home to.
My heart condition still exists—I’ll never be completely free of it. But without the experimental treatments poisoning me, it’s improved dramatically. It’s more or less manageable. Some days I barely notice it. Others, I need to be more careful and get rest, allowing Dr. Tulio to monitor me.
But I’m alive. Strong enough to do things like play with my kids, make love to my wife, and run my empire.
It’s more than I ever thought I’d have.
I head downstairs, passing Ms. Poitier in the hallway. She’s carrying a laundry basket, her face breaking into a warm smile when she sees me.
“Glad you’re getting rest, C,” she says.
I wink at her. “Hard to rest with our two little ones as an alarm clock.”
The breakfast room is warm and bright, morning sun lighting the room by way of the windows. Nevaeh sits at the table with Ravi and Siena on either side of her, both wielding plastic sporks against plates of pancakes. Syrup is everywhere—their faces, their fingers, somehow in Siena’s hair.
I kiss Nevaeh’s cheek as I pass, breathing in her sweet scent, then take my seat across from them.
“Daddy, look!” Siena holds up her pancake piece triumphantly. “I cutted it all by myself!”
“You did an excellent job, principessa,” I tell her proudly.
Ravi is much more methodical, eating his pancakes in a specific pattern—clockwise around the plate, cutting each piece to the exact same size. So perfectly Ravi.
Nevaeh catches my eye, and we share a smile. One of our parental smiles that says can you believe this is our life? How did we get so lucky?
Then she leans over, close enough that her breath tickles my ear, and whispers five simple words that stop my heart.
“By the way, I’m pregnant.”
I turn to look at her; the smile on her face is radiant and knowing. Full of joy and mischief and love.
She’s serious. She’s expecting, something we’ve been working toward again to fill up our household even more.
My hand finds hers under the table, squeezing gently.
Another baby. Another miracle to be added to our family.
We share a look—a secret passing between us that the twins are too busy with their pancakes to notice. A promise of the future expanding before us, full of possibility and love.
A few short years ago, I was dying. Poisoned by my own father, hunted by enemies, alone in my rage and pain with only vague dreams of a beautiful ballerina I sought to make mine.
Now I’m sitting at a breakfast table covered in syrup, holding the hand of the woman I love, watching our children demolish pancakes, and learning our family is about to grow again.
I survived hell. We both did. But it was worth it for what we’ve fought for and earned.
“I love you, Nevi,” I mouth.
She squeezes my hand back. “I love you too, Cael.”
Ravi looks up from his systematic pancake process. “Daddy’s smiling so big!”
I chuckle and nod. “Because I’m happy, figlio mio. Because I have everything I ever wanted right here at this table.”
Siena giggles, then shrieks, “Pancakes!”
More laughter fills the room as we eat our breakfast and savor each other’s company. Just another morning in our home with the ones I love most.
THE END