EPILOGUE
ANGELICA
One year later…
I awake to the sound of Dante moving down the hallway and reach for his side of the bed, which is cold.
He's been awake a while and likely, he's dressed and ready for work.
I roll over and check the clock on the nightstand to see it's just before dawn, and I smile at the thought of Sofia waking to gifts for St Lucia's day.
Last year, Dante gave them just after breakfast.
This year, I have a gift to give him too.
My stomach rolls uneasily, and I press my hand against it, willing the nausea to pass.
It's been like this for the past few weeks, waves of sickness that hit me at random times.
I haven't told Dante yet or taken a test, but in my heart, I know.
I've been through this before, more than seven years ago when Sofia was growing inside me.
I swing my legs out of bed and stand slowly, testing my balance.
The nausea subsides to a dull queasiness, manageable enough that I can function.
I pull on a robe and pad barefoot down the hallway toward Sofia's room.
The door's already open.
Dante sits on the edge of her bed, his hand resting on her shoulder as he gently shakes her awake.
"Time to get up, Tesoro," he says softly. "Today's a special day."
Sofia stirs, her dark hair splayed across the pillow.
She's almost seven now, taller and more independent than she was a year ago.
But she still sleeps with the doll Dante gave her clutched in one hand.
"Is it Christmas?" she mumbles, half-asleep.
"Not yet. But it's St. Lucia's Day. Remember what we talked about?"
Her eyes flutter open. "Breakfast and presents?"
"Exactly." He leans down and kisses her forehead. "Get dressed. Marta's making your favorite."
Sofia sits up, fully awake now.
She sees me standing in the doorway and grins.
"Mama, Papa says we're having pancakes."
"I heard." I move into the room and sit beside Dante on the bed. "And after breakfast, we have a surprise for you."
Her eyes widen. "What kind of surprise?"
"You'll see." Dante ruffles her hair. "Now get dressed. We'll be downstairs."
We leave her room and head down the hallway together.
Dante's hand finds mine, his fingers interlacing with mine.
We don't often get to have leisurely mornings together, but today is special.
"You were up early," I say as we descend the staircase.
Normally, we wake together and often shower together too, which I miss this morning.
I thought about telling Dante first thing, but his little surprise changed that.
"Couldn't sleep." He glances at me, his expression softening. "I wanted to make sure everything was perfect."
"It will be."
We reach the kitchen where Marta's already working at the stove.
A stack of pancakes sits on a platter, steam rising from the golden surfaces.
She looks up when we enter and smiles.
"Good morning. Coffee?"
"Please." I slide into a chair at the table, grateful to be sitting again.
The nausea is back, stronger this time.
Dante moves to the counter and pours two cups of coffee.
He sets one in front of me, then takes the seat beside me.
His hand rests on my thigh beneath the table.
"You feeling okay?" he asks quietly.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
If I open my mouth, I might tell him everything.
And I want to wait and make it a surprise at the right time.
Sofia comes bounding into the kitchen a few minutes later, dressed in her favorite sweater and jeans.
She climbs into her chair and stares at the pancakes with wide eyes.
"These look yummy," she says, already reaching for a fork.
Marta serves her a plate, drizzling syrup over the top.
"Eat up. You'll need your energy for later."
Sofia digs in while Dante and I watch her, smiling at her enthusiasm.
This is what I wanted, what I dreamed of during those dark days last year when we were locked in the safe room, waiting to see if we'd survive.
A normal life with family breakfasts and the simple joy of watching our daughter eat pancakes on a cold December morning.
So boring and mundane but exactly everything life is supposed to be.
When Sofia finishes, Dante stands and offers his hand. "Ready for your surprise?"
She nods eagerly and takes his hand.
We move as a group toward the back of the house, through the hallway that leads to the terrace.
The courtyard's been rebuilt since last year's attack.
The stones were replaced, the fountain repaired.
There's no trace of the violence that happened here anymore except the intact family that Dante saved because of his strength.
Near the fountain, a large box sits wrapped in red paper with a bow on top.
Sofia's eyes go wide when she sees it.
"Is that for me?" she asks, and she doesn't even appear to be shivering, which I am.
"Go ahead," Dante says. "Open it."
Then he takes off his suit jacket and drapes it around my shoulders.
She runs to the box and tears at the paper enthusiastically.
The wrapping falls away, revealing a crate with air holes along the sides.
She peers through one of the holes and gasps.
"Oh, my God! It's a puppy!"
Dante walks over to the crate and unlatches the door with a grin on his face.
A small golden retriever tumbles out, wagging its tail furiously, and Sofia drops to her knees and wraps her arms around the dog, squealing with delight.
He's a bundle of energy, jumping on her to tackle her, and she doesn’t mind one bit.
"What's his name?" she asks.
"That's up to you," I say, crouching beside her. "He's yours."
She buries her face in the puppy's fur, laughing as it licks her cheek.
"I'm going to call him Biscotti."
Dante raises an eyebrow. "Biscotti?"
"Like the cookies Marta makes."
He laughs, a genuine sound that warms me from the inside out.
"Biscotti it is."
Sofia stands and looks up at Dante.
"Can I go play with him in the courtyard?"
"Go ahead. But stay where we can see you."
She runs off with the puppy bounding after her, and Dante and I watch from the edge of the garden.
He drapes his arm around me confidently.
It's hard to remember how much I hated him last year this time when he was keeping us locked up away from the world.
So much has changed since then, and now I can't imagine a day without him.
My love for him has grown in ways I can't even express.
"She's happy," I say.
"She is." He pauses, then adds, "You know we're going to regret this in about six months when that dog is full-grown and tearing through the house."
"Maybe." I lean into him, resting my head against his shoulder. "But it's worth it."
He kisses the top of my head.
"I have something for you too."
I pull back slightly and look up at him.
"You didn't have to get me anything."
"I know." He reaches into his jacket and pulls out an envelope. "But I wanted to."
I take the envelope and open it carefully.
Inside are two airline tickets to London, dated for mid-January.
"A trip?" I ask, surprised and staring up at him in wonder.
"Just the two of us… A long weekend with no puppy, no Sofia, and no business."
My chest tightens with emotion.
A real vacation where we can be together without his empire hovering over us.
It's more than I could've asked for.
"Dante, this is perfect."
"I thought you'd like it." He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "You've been through so much this past year. You deserve a break."
I hold the tickets in my hand and look up at him.
This is the moment.
The perfect moment to tell him.
"I have something for you too," I say.
He tilts his head, curious. "Yeah?"
"I wasn't planning to tell you until after Christmas, but I can't wait."
I take a deep breath, steadying myself.
I take his hand, guiding it to my belly where a hard bump is beginning to be tangible there.
Then I press his fingers harder and whisper, "You're going to be a father again."
Dante's jaw goes slack and he shakes his head in disbelief.
"You're serious?"
"I'm serious. I haven't taken a test yet, but I know. I can feel it."
He pulls me into his arms, lifting me off the ground.
I laugh, clinging to his shoulders as he spins me around.
"Another baby," he says, his voice filled with wonder. "We're having another baby."
"We are." I laugh, and he sets me down gently, his hands moving to my face.
"When? How far along are you?"
"I don't know yet. Maybe six weeks? Seven? I'll make an appointment with Silvio next week."
"A son." He says it with such certainty, I can't help but laugh.
"You don't know that."
"I know." He places his hand on my stomach, even though there's nothing to feel yet. "It's a boy. I can tell."
"You're ridiculous."
"Maybe—but I'm right."
He leans down and kisses me so deeply it steals my breath.
When he pulls back, his eyes are bright with happiness.
"This is the best gift you could've given me."
"Better than the tickets?"
"Much better." He kisses me again, softer this time. "I love you."
"I love you too."
Sofia's voice calls from the courtyard. "Mama! Papa! Come see what Biscotti can do!"
We break apart and turn toward the garden.
Sofia is trying to teach the puppy to sit, her voice high and excited as she repeats the command over and over.
The dog just wags its tail and jumps up, licking her face.
Dante takes my hand and leads me toward the courtyard.
We join Sofia on the path, sitting beside her as she continues her futile training efforts.
The puppy races between us, full of energy and completely undisciplined.
"This was a terrible idea," Dante mutters, but he's smiling.
"Probably," I agree. "But it makes her happy."
He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me closer. "That's all that matters."
The puppy barks and chases after her, thinking it's a game.
They run across the courtyard together, with loud shrieks and yelps that promise to annoy us to no end in coming months, but my little family is growing and healthy.
And that's more than I could ever have asked for.
Dante pulls me into his lap, wrapping both arms around me.
"This is it," he says quietly. "This is everything."
I rest my head against his, listening to the playful cheers of our little girl. "It is."
And for the first time in years, I believe it.
This is our life now.
It's not perfect or without its complications, but it's ours—a family built on love and the determination to hold onto each other no matter what comes.