Chapter 26 #2
"Marco DeLuca is deceased. Three associates in custody, one deceased. His remaining organization is being rounded up—twelve arrests in six hours." She paused. "It's over. You're free to resume normal life with standard security precautions."
Free.
"What about the person helping him from inside?" Alessio asked.
"Federal prosecutor Diana Marsh. Arrested this morning, confessed to everything.
She'd been on Marco's payroll for eight years—feeding him information, burying evidence, helping coordinate both escapes.
" Rodriguez's expression held grim satisfaction.
"Her cooperation is shutting down the last pieces of Marco's network.
" Rodriguez's expression softened. "You're safe.
Your children are safe. Marco can't hurt anyone again. "
We sat in silence, processing.
"I should feel relieved," I said. "Why don't I?"
"Because grief is complicated," Sofia said gently. "He was a monster, but he was also your father. You're allowed to feel complicated things."
"I'm glad he's gone. Glad our babies will never know him. But I'm also sad—for what could have been. For the father I deserved but never had."
"Both things can be true," Livia said quietly.
I reached for her hand. "Sisters."
"Sisters," she agreed. "We survived him."
Alessio's arm came around my shoulders. "And now you decide what comes next. Not him. You."
What comes next? The phrase felt different now—full of possibility instead of threat.
"I want to see my babies," I said. "Hold them properly. Not stolen minutes—actual time. As their mother. In peace."
"Then that's what we'll do," Alessio said.
They let us stay in the NICU for two hours that night.
Nurse Sarah helped me position both babies—Ezio in my left arm, Eva in my right, with skin-to-skin contact. Their tiny bodies rested against my chest, feeling my heartbeat, my warmth.
"Hi, my loves," I whispered, tears streaming. "I'm so sorry you had to be alone. But I'm here now. And I'm never leaving again."
Ezio nuzzled against me, making contented sounds. Eva's little hand curled against my skin. Trusting. Safe. Home.
Alessio knelt beside us, his hand on my shoulder.
"We made them," he said softly. "Against impossible odds."
"We did." I looked up at him. "And now we get to raise them. In peace. Everything we fought for."
He kissed my forehead. "Everything we fought for."
Sofia and Livia watched from the doorway, both crying.
"My daughter is a mother," Sofia said. "And her babies are fighters."
"Like all of us," Livia added. "DeLuca women survive."
The next week passed in a blur of hospital visits, discharge paperwork, and the slow work of healing—my body from surgery, my heart from everything else.
We rented a small house outside Bozeman. With Marco dead and his network dismantled, the FBI had cleared us to leave protective custody. Sofia helped furnish the nursery. Livia hung welcome banners in every room.
It was starting to feel like a home.
And then Ezio came home.
Six pounds, feeding well, breathing perfectly. Cleared for discharge.
Alessio carried him to the car like he was made of glass.
"Going home, buddy. To your real home."
Eva would join us in another week.
I sat beside Ezio's car seat, unable to stop staring at his serious face, his dark eyes watching everything.
"Welcome home, baby. This is your world now. Safe. Full of people who love you."
At the house, Sofia had prepared everything was ready—the bassinet in the nursery, the bottles lined up in the kitchen, the tiny onesies Domenico had given us folded in the dresser.
We brought Ezio inside, and Alessio carried him through each room.
"This is home, piccolo. Where you'll grow up with your sister. Where Mama and Daddy will keep you safe forever."
That night, after the midnight feeding, we stood over his bassinet watching him sleep.
"One down, one to go," Alessio said softly.
"Then we're really a family."
"We're already a family. Have been since that motel room." He pulled me close. "But when Eva comes home, when we're all together—that's when we start living instead of surviving."
"Living," I repeated. "I like the sound of that."
Eva came home eight days later.
Five pounds, two ounces. Breathing perfectly. Cleared for discharge.
We brought her home to meet her brother. Watching Ezio stare at his sister with serious focus made my heart feel too big for my chest.
"That's your sister, Eva. You're going to protect each other forever."
That night, both babies finally slept in bassinets side by side, and Alessio and I collapsed on the couch. Exhausted. Overwhelmed. Grateful beyond words.
"We did it," I said. "Against everything."
"You did it. You survived your father, testified, gave birth early, kept fighting." He pressed a kiss to my temple. "You're the strongest person I know."
"We did it together. That's what made it possible." I looked at him. "I couldn't have survived without you."
"You could have. But I'm grateful you didn't have to."
We sat listening to our babies breathe.
"What happens now?" I asked. "With your family, the Valestri organization?"
"Domenico takes over officially. I'm out—completely, permanently." He gestured around. "This. Normal life. Normal problems. The most exciting thing should be which preschool to choose."
"That sounds perfect."
I leaned against him and felt safe for the first time I could remember.
"I love you," I whispered.
"I love you too. All three of you." His hand settled over mine. "My whole world."
Outside, the Montana night was peaceful. Inside, our babies slept safely.
Marco DeLuca's shadow was finally, permanently gone.
We'd survived.
Now we could finally live.
Though somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew there were still loose ends to tie up. Consequences to face. But that was a problem for tomorrow.
Tonight, we had this. And it was enough.