Chapter 22
Cesare
The call from Agent Munoz came three weeks after the disastrous bail hearing.
Three weeks of Viktor being free. Three weeks of looking over our shoulders, waiting for his next move.
Three weeks of discovering that Rosa's evidence had been fabricated, just like we’d pointed out in court. They’d done their due diligence and confirmed the claim, but it was too late. We were already on edge and being hunted.
Rosa had been removed from the FBI immediately and was being processed internally, compromising several dozen other operations she’d been involved in before going dirty with Viktor.
"Mr. Monti. I wanted to inform you personally. Viktor Kozlov accepted a plea deal this morning."
My hand tightened on the phone. "What kind of deal?"
"After Rosa was arrested for perjury and conspiracy, her entire testimony fell apart.
We recovered communications between her and Viktor proving she fabricated the FBI evidence.
Once that came to light, we refiled all charges against Viktor—with additional charges for witness tampering and obstruction of justice. "
"So he wasn't actually free."
"He was free for eighteen days while we built the case.
But once we had Rosa's confession and the evidence of their conspiracy, Viktor's lawyers advised him to take a deal.
Guilty on all twenty-three federal counts—the original eighteen plus five new ones.
In exchange, the prosecution recommended life without parole instead of pursuing the death penalty.
The judge accepted. Viktor was sentenced an hour ago. "
Life without parole. No appeal. No escape.
"Where's he going?"
"ADX Florence. Colorado. Supermax facility. Twenty-three hours a day in solitary confinement. He'll never see daylight again. Never communicate with the outside world. It's as close to erased as a person can get whilst still breathing."
The relief was so powerful I had to sit. "It's really over."
"It's really over. He's already been transferred. By tonight, he'll be in his cell. And Mr. Monti? He'll die there. No possibility of parole means exactly that. Life means life."
After hanging up, I sat in my office, processing.
Viktor Kozlov. The man who'd orchestrated the wedding switch, who'd kidnapped Piero and nearly killed him, who'd used my pregnant wife as leverage and threatened our unborn child—Gone. Forever.
I found Paola in the bedroom, just waking from her nap, hand resting on the small curve of her belly. Nine weeks now. Our son or daughter, growing stronger every day.
"Hey," she murmured, still drowsy. "Everything okay?"
"Viktor accepted a plea deal. Life without parole. ADX Florence."
She sat up immediately, sleep vanishing. "He's really gone? For good?"
"For good. He'll spend the rest of his life in a concrete box. Alone. Until he dies."
Her eyes filled with tears. "It's over. It's really over."
I crossed to the bed, pulled her into my arms. "It's over. We're safe. We can finally start living."
She clung to me, crying into my shoulder. Relief. Joy. The weight of months of fear finally lifting.
"Our baby won't grow up afraid," she whispered. "Won't grow up hiding."
"No. They’ll grow up safe. Loved. Free."
We held each other whilst Manhattan stretched below us—the city we'd fought for, survived in, made our own.
Finally, truly ours.
The fallout from Rosa's betrayal took weeks to manage.
Every operation she'd touched had to be reviewed. Every safehouse relocated. Every security protocol rebuilt from scratch. The woman had been with us for twenty years—her knowledge ran deep.
But she was gone now. Disappeared into FBI witness protection after her testimony, vanishing as thoroughly as Viktor had into supermax.
Piero took it the hardest. She'd been his assistant for years, his right hand. He'd trusted her completely.
He stopped by the penthouse a few days after Viktor's sentencing, looking more exhausted than I'd seen him since the pier.
"How are you holding up?" I asked, pouring us both scotch.
"I keep replaying every interaction with Rosa. Looking for signs I missed. Red flags I should have caught." He took the glass, downed half of it in one swallow. "Twenty years, Cesare. She was with our family for twenty years. Through every major decision. And I never suspected."
"None of us did. She was a professional. Trained by the FBI to blend in, to earn trust."
"That doesn't make it easier." He stared into his glass. "She knew everything about my life. My schedule. My weaknesses. And she was reporting it all."
Paola appeared in the doorway, hand on her small belly. "Piero. I didn't know you were here."
"Just checking on you both." He managed a tired smile. "How are you feeling?"
"Pregnant. Nauseous. Tired." She settled on the couch beside me. "But alive. We all are. That's what matters."
"Is it? Feels like we lost anyway."
"We didn't lose," I said firmly. "Viktor's in prison forever. Rosa's gone. We're here. We're building something real. That's winning, even if it doesn't feel like it yet."
Piero was quiet for a moment. "You're different. Since the wedding. Since Paola."
"I'm trying to be better. For her. For our baby."
"It suits you. Being human instead of just being the Don."
"I'm still the Don."
"But not just the Don. There's a difference."
After Piero left, Paola came and sat beside me on the couch.
"He's going to be okay," she said, handing me a plate. "Piero. He just needs time."
"I know. We all do."
"How are you doing? Really?"
I considered the question whilst drying the plate. "Better than I expected. Worse than I'd like."
"That's honest."
"I keep thinking about Rosa. How she was there for everything. My father's funeral. Piero's promotions. I saw her at the hospital after Piero's rescue—she brought him documents to sign while he was barely conscious." The betrayal still stung. "She played the role perfectly."
"Maybe not all of it was a lie," Paola said gently. "The first years, before Viktor got to her—those might have been real. Before she became whatever she became."
"Were they? Or was she always looking for an angle?"
"Does it matter now? She's gone. We're here. We survived."
She was right. I was spending too much energy on the past, not enough on the future.
The future currently growing in her belly.
"How are you feeling?" I asked, changing the subject deliberately. "You and the baby?"
"Tired. Nauseous at random times. But Dr. Lin says everything's progressing normally." She smiled, hand on her stomach. "Nine weeks down. Thirty-one to go."
"Thirty-one weeks. That's—"
“A little over seven months. Yes."
The timeline felt both impossibly long and terrifyingly short. Seven months until I became a father. Until our lives changed completely.
"Are you scared?" I asked.
"Terrified. You?"
"Absolutely."
We smiled at each other, sharing the fear and the anticipation in equal measure.
"We should talk about names," Paola said, drying her hands. "We can't keep calling them 'the baby' forever."
"What names do you like?"
"Something Italian," she started. "To honor your family."
"Something strong. They’ll need to be strong."
"What about Lucia? If it’s a girl."
The name settled over me, perfect and right. "Lucia. Light."
"After all the darkness we survived, we're bringing light into the world." Paola's eyes were bright with emotion. "What about for a middle name?"
I thought for a moment. "Velia. It means hidden, concealed. A reminder that she was our secret hope during all the darkness."
"Lucia Velia Monti." Paola tested it. "It's beautiful. I love it."
"And if it's a boy?"
"What about Renzo?" she suggested. "It's strong. Classic."
I considered it. "Renzo Milo Monti."
"Milo for the middle name?"
"It means merciful. After everything we've been through—all the violence, the betrayals—I'd want our son to be strong but merciful. To choose compassion over cruelty."
"That's perfect." She smiled. "So we have options. Lucia Velia or Renzo Milo. We'll find out in a few weeks at the anatomy scan."
"Either way, they're going to be loved. So loved."
I placed my hand on her belly. Still too early to feel movement, but knowing our baby was there—maybe Lucia, maybe Renzo—made it more real.
"I'm going to mess this up," I admitted. "Fatherhood. I have no idea what I'm doing."
"Neither do I. About motherhood, I mean. We'll figure it out together."
"What if I'm like my father? Cold. Distant. More concerned with power than—"
"You won't be." Her hand covered mine on her belly. "You're already different. You chose me and our child over the empire. Your father never would have done that."
She was right. My father had died chasing more power, more territory, more control. He'd prioritized the empire over everything, including his sons.
I'd made different choices. Stepped back from daily operations. Given Piero real authority. Focused on building a life, not just an empire.
"I'm still terrified I'll mess this up," I said.
"Good. That means you care. That's half the battle."
We sat together, my hand on her small belly, talking about the future. Nursery colors. Baby furniture. Whether we'd hire a nanny or handle everything ourselves.
Normal conversations. Domestic planning. The kind of life I never thought I'd have.
"I need to tell you something," Paola said after a while, her voice going serious.
My stomach tightened. "What?"
"I called Anna. My best friend. We're meeting for coffee next week."
The name triggered memory. Anna. The friend who'd filed a missing person report when Paola disappeared. The one we'd sent vague texts to about family emergencies.
"You're ready to see her?"
"I think so. It's been long enough now. The story about the wedding went public after Viktor's exposure at the anniversary. She knows most of it already from the news." Paola's expression was complicated. "I owe her an explanation. A real one."
"What are you going to tell her?"
"The truth. As much as I can. That I was forced into the marriage initially. That I chose to stay. That I'm pregnant and happy and safe now.”
"And if she doesn't understand?"
"Then I lose my best friend. But I have to try. She deserves that much."
I pulled her close. "I'll support whatever you decide. If you want me there—"
"No. This is something I need to do alone. Girl talk, explanations, apologies."
"Okay. But if you need backup—"
"I'll call." She kissed me softly. "Thank you. For understanding. For not trying to control this."
"I'm learning. Slowly. That trying to control everything just makes things worse."
"Look at you. Growing as a person."
"Don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain."
She laughed, and the sound filled the penthouse with warmth.
That night, lying in bed with Paola curled against my side, I felt something I hadn't felt in months.
Peace.
Real, genuine peace.
Viktor was gone. Rosa was gone. The immediate threats had been neutralized. My family was safe.
And in seven months, I'd meet my child.
"Cesare?" Paola's voice was sleepy in the darkness.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For everything. For protecting me. For choosing us. For being exactly what I needed."
"You did the same for me. Gave me something worth protecting. Worth fighting for."
"We're a good team."
"The best team."
She shifted, her hand finding mine, lacing our fingers together. "I love you. I should say it more. I love you so much.”
"I love you too. Both of you." My other hand found her belly. "My whole world."
"It's strange," Paola murmured. "Knowing they’re there but not being able to feel them yet. Everything is happening on the inside where I can't see it."
"You will soon. Feel them move, I mean."
"Dr. Lin said around sixteen to twenty weeks for first-time mothers. So another seven weeks or so."
"That feels like forever."
"And no time at all." She pressed my hand more firmly against her stomach. "But they’re in there. Our baby. Growing stronger every day."
"I can't wait to feel them move. To know they’re really real."
"They’re real now. Just quiet still." Paola's voice was getting drowsier. "Soon enough they’ll be kicking me at three in the morning and I'll be complaining about never sleeping."
"I'll take the three a.m. kicks. You take the midnight ones."
She laughed softly. "Deal."
We fell asleep like that. Wrapped around each other. My hand on her belly where our child grew, still and silent but undeniably there. Waiting for the day—still weeks away—when they would announce themselves with movement we could both feel.
The war was over. The threats had been eliminated. The future stretched ahead—uncertain, yes, but ours.
And for the first time since that morning I'd married the wrong woman, I felt ready for whatever came next.
Because I wasn't facing it alone anymore.
I had Paola. I had our baby. I had a family worth more than any empire.
And that was enough.
More than enough.
Everything.