Epilogue
Bianca
Six months of married life has taught me that having two completely different existences is actually kind of—no, really—exhausting.
On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I’m just another Columbia student rushing across campus with my backpack, ignoring nosy questions, complaining about impossible assignments and stress-eating vending machine cookies between classes.
I sit in lecture halls with kids my age who worry about internships and student loans and whether their crushes will text them back.
On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, I’m the underboss of the DeLuca family, sitting across from men twice my age who’ve spent decades perfecting the art of violence and intimidation.
I make decisions that affect millions of dollars and dozens of lives, coordinate operations that would make headlines if anyone knew they were happening, and command respect through a combination of inherited ruthlessness and carefully cultivated fear.
The weird part? Both lives feel completely natural now.
This morning’s classes seem like a lifetime ago as I review territorial expansion reports in Dad’s study, my wedding ring catching the afternoon light as I turn pages.
The numbers are good—better than good, actually. The complete alliance between our families has created opportunities neither of us could have achieved alone, and our combined territories now stretch from Boston to Philadelphia.
“The waterfront consolidation is ahead of schedule,” I tell Alessandro, who’s sprawled in the leather chair across from Dad’s desk, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his hair slightly mussed from running his hands through it.
Even after six months of marriage, the sight of him still makes my stomach do these stupid little flips.
“Siobhan’s people have been incredibly efficient,” he agrees, glancing up from his own tablet. “I think she’s enjoying having legitimate reasons to eliminate her competition.”
I snort. “She texted me yesterday asking if we had any other ‘problem families’ she could help us with. I think she’s getting bored with regular business operations.”
“God help us all,” Dad mutters from behind his own stack of paperwork, but he’s smiling. The relationship between him and Alessandro has never been better.
They’ve always been friendly to each other since they were allies, but now they have a shared purpose: to protect me.
It’s actually kind of sweet, watching them bond over their need to worry about my safety constantly.
The study door bursts open with the force of a small hurricane, and Giovanni and Arianna come barreling in at full speed, their faces bright with mischief.
“Banca! Banca!” Arianna shrieks, launching herself at my legs with the kind of enthusiasm that would knock down anyone who wasn’t expecting it.
“We hiding!” Giovanni announces proudly, diving behind Dad’s chair like it’s the most clever hiding spot in the world.
“Hiding from what?” I ask, scooping Arianna up and settling her on my lap while she immediately starts playing with my wedding ring.
“Mama!” they both yell in unison, dissolving into giggles.
Sure enough, Bella appears in the doorway a moment later, her hair escaping from its ponytail and her cheeks flushed from chasing toddlers around the compound. She places a hand against the door, taking in deep breaths.
“Sorry,” she pants, leaning against the doorframe. “They’re supposed to be napping, but apparently hiding from Mama is more fun than sleeping.” She eyes the children with a look so severe it makes me want her to join me at the next Family meeting.
One glare from Bella and even the most hardened don would be groveling at her feet.
“No nap!” Arianna declares firmly, snuggling deeper into my arms. She juts out her lower lip and crosses her arms. “Stay with Banca!”
Looking at her little face—so trusting, so full of love—something inside my chest squeezes tight.
She has no idea how complicated our family is, how different our world is from the one most children grow up in.
To her, we’re just the people who love her unconditionally and always will.
Perfect innocence, Sophia’s voice observes gently.
Worth protecting at any cost, Giuseppe adds with uncharacteristic tenderness.
The future we’re building, Matteo’s voice concludes with satisfaction.
The voices have been quieter lately, more collaborative than competing.
Like they’ve finally figured out that they’re all working toward the same goals—protecting what matters, building something lasting, ensuring the family survives and thrives.
Or maybe it’s because I’ve finally figured out how to balance all the different parts of myself without feeling like they’re tearing me apart.
“Actually,” I say, my heart suddenly racing as I realize this is the perfect moment, “since we’re all here, there’s something Alessandro and I want to tell you.”
Everyone goes still. Even the twins seem to sense that something important is happening, their chatter fading as they look around at the adults with wide, curious eyes.
I glance at Alessandro, who nods encouragingly, his hazel eyes warm with love and excitement. We’ve been keeping this secret for two weeks, waiting for the right moment to share the news.
“We’re pregnant,” I announce, my heart hammering. I’m not sure why I’m so scared to tell Dad and Bella.
Maybe it’s the fact that I’m announcing that Alessandro and I are having unprotected sex—a lot of sex, to be honest—and that’s normally a line you don’t cross with your parents.
The silence that follows lasts exactly three seconds before Bella lets out a shriek that could probably be heard in New Jersey.
“Oh my god!” she screams, tears already streaming down her face as she rushes toward me. “Oh my god, Bianca! Really? You’re really pregnant?”
Her reaction startles the twins so much that Arianna starts crying and Giovanni scrambles out from behind Dad’s chair to hide behind Alessandro instead with Arianna joining him shortly after.
But I barely notice their confusion because I only have eyes for Dad.
He’s gone completely still, his face cycling through shock, joy, and something that looks like he’s trying not to cry.
His eyes—so much like mine—are bright with unshed tears, and his mouth is slightly open like he wants to speak but can’t find the words.
“Dad?” I whisper, suddenly needing his approval more than anything else in the world.
That breaks his paralysis. He’s across the room in three quick strides, pulling me up from the chair and into his arms so tightly that I can barely breathe.
But I don’t care, because he’s shaking slightly and I can feel the dampness of tears against my hair.
“I’m so proud of you,” he whispers, his voice catching in his throat. “So incredibly proud. You’re going to be an amazing mother.”
“You think so?” I ask, my own tears threatening now as I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his chest. The relief I feel is palpable.
“I know so.” He pulls back to cup my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that have started to fall. “You’re going to love this baby the way I love you—completely, unconditionally, with everything you have.”
“Dad,” I choke out, my cheeks flaming, but he’s not finished.
“You’re going to protect this child and teach them and guide them into becoming exactly who they’re meant to be.” His voice is getting stronger, more certain. “And Alessandro’s going to be right there beside you, being the kind of father every child deserves.”
I glance over at Alessandro, who’s managed to calm the twins down and is now watching our emotional moment with a delighted smile.
When he catches me looking, he mouths, “I love you,” and the pure joy on his face makes my heart feel like it might burst.
“How far along?” Bella finally gets her own tears under control enough to speak coherently. Her eyes are red-rimmed, but her smile is so wide I’m afraid her cheeks are going to split.
“Eight weeks,” I tell her, settling back into the chair with Arianna returning to her position on my lap.
She’s stopped crying and is now patting my face like she’s checking to make sure I’m okay.
“Banca sad?” she asks with the serious concern that only toddlers can manage.
“No, baby,” I tell her, pressing a kiss to her forehead and smelling her sweet baby smell. “Banca’s happy. Very, very happy.”
“Happy tears,” Giovanni observes wisely from his position next to Alessandro, still clearly unsure if there will be another outburst.
“That’s right,” Alessandro confirms, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “Sometimes people cry when they’re really happy.”
“Baby?” Arianna asks suddenly, her little face lighting up with understanding. “Banca have baby?”
“Yes,” I laugh, amazed by how quickly she put it together. “Banca’s going to have a baby.”
“Baby brother!” she announces decisively.
“Or baby sister,” Bella corrects gently.
“No,” Arianna says with the absolute certainty that only two-year-olds possess. “Baby brother. Like Giovanni.”
“No!” Giovanni pipes up, a scowl on his face that looks so much like Matteo I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. “Don’t want baby brother!”
“We’ll see,” I tell Arianna and Giovanni, secretly hoping that Arianna’s right. The idea of having a little boy who looks like Alessandro makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
“When?” Dad asks, settling back into his chair with Giovanni climbing onto his lap. Dad wraps an arm around Giovanni’s middle and presses a kiss to the boy’s head.
“April,” Alessandro answers. “Right after finals, if everything goes according to schedule.”
Dad snorts, rolling his eyes. “Of course you planned it around the academic calendar. Heaven forbid pregnancy interfere with your education.”
“Hey, you’re the one who insisted I finish college,” I point out, remembering the fit Dad threw when we planned the wedding. He had been insistent it was after final exams so I could keep my focus. “I’m just being efficient.”