Chapter 28 Luca
Epilogue.
The last time I saw my father was at Silas’s wedding—two years ago.
My mom begged me to talk to him, but I shut her out.
Now... my wife’s the one asking me to talk to him, and suddenly it’s not so easy to ignore.
“Luca, he’s at the door. You can’t just leave him out there,” Emma whispers.
She’s wearing that paint-stained apron she uses in her studio—one of the rooms in our house, that’s all hers.
It’s splattered with color, and she’s got that same bandana on her head, the one I stole from her all those years ago.
Ever since she became my wife, she’s been able to relax a little more with work.
She’s been spending more time on her art, and in a few months, she’s having her first gallery show in Miami.
I’ve never been prouder.
“I absolutely can leave him out there,” I mutter, closing my laptop and standing from my office chair, stepping closer to her.
Her hands are on her hips. She’s pissed.
When the doorbell rang a few seconds ago, the security camera showed my father, standing outside in a plain white tee and some old shorts.
“Please,” she says. “Talk to him. Give him a chance to own up to what he did.”
I take a deep breath and look into her green eyes. There’s a smear of green paint on her cheek, and it pulls a smile from me. My hand cradles her face—massive compared to hers. “How can you forgive him so easily, Em?”
“Because we all make mistakes.”
I open my mouth to argue, but she keeps going, raising her voice a little.
“Yes, your dad made a lot of them…” How the hell did she know that’s exactly what I was about to say? “…but if we never give a second chance to someone who hurt us, we’ll spend our lives carrying resentment. And I know you don’t want that. That’s what all those books in your library are about.”
I smile.
“Our library. There’s a whole shelf of art books in there now, too.”
The day Emma proposed, I did exactly what I promised. I put her on a plane, and we flew straight to Vegas. It wasn’t romantic. Definitely not classy. But I wasn’t about to waste the sliver of momentum life handed me. That one perfect second where everything aligned.
I married her.
We spent two days in Vegas, locked in a hotel room—rediscovering each other, feeling like we belonged again, like we did when we were kids. When we got back to Miami, I packed her things and moved her into my house. Our house now.
These days, I wake up and instead of missing her in silence, I get to run my hand across her skin while she sleeps beside me.
Every day, I wake up smiling. Every day, she brings light into my life.
“Go,” she says, nudging me toward the door. “I’ll be in the studio so you two can talk.”
I nod because seeing her smile when she wins a small argument is one of my favorite things. I live to make her happy, and if this is what she wants today, then I’ll do it. I kiss her quickly, then open the door to face my father.
The great Thomas Walker is standing on my doorstep, inspecting the house like it’s a museum. “I’ve never seen this place,” he says, eyes scanning the walls.
“You were never invited,” I reply, keeping the door halfway shut. I haven’t decided if I’m letting him in yet.
“My bones like Miami’s humidity,” he says, flexing his left leg. If I remember right, that knee always gave him trouble.
“Good for you.”
No joy in my voice. Just cool indifference.
He exhales, the sound of someone bracing for something heavy. “Look, Luca... these past two years without you have been hell. Your mom nearly killed me. But they were also years of reflection. I’m getting old. I see things differently now. And honestly, I feel ashamed of what I did.”
“As you should, Thomas.” I don’t call him Dad. He lost that title the day he tried to ruin my life. “Consequentialist ethics,” I add coldly.
He nods with a tired smile. “You sound like a philosophy professor.”
My stomach tightens. The nerve of him, bringing that up now. “Anything else? My wife needs me right now.”
“Emma’s here? I’d like to apologize to her, too.”
“Oh? That was an apology?” I raise an eyebrow. “Funny. I didn’t hear the words I’m sorry.”
“You’re right,” he says, and this time he looks me in the eye. “You’ve always been too damn smart for me. I’m sorry, son. I’m sorry I manipulated your life like that.”
I let go of the door and turn around. He follows me inside. “You didn’t just mess with me, Thomas. You messed with all of us. My brothers, too. It’s time to stop.”
“I know…”
“Do you?” I raise my voice. “Because Silas told me he ended up in the hospital with heart issues from the stress you caused. I lost years with my wife. Oliver can’t even live like a normal adult, and Killian acts like he has to earn your approval every damn second.
Do you have any idea what your actions did to this family? ”
I’ve never seen this expression on him before—panic, confusion, and something that might even be regret. For the first time, he’s realizing what he’s done. “No... no, I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t. You don’t know your sons. We’re just now starting to know each other, and we’re grown men.” I fold my arms, trying to ground myself again.
Funny how being close to the Green sisters brought my brothers and me closer, too. Silas and I take vacations now, we celebrate holidays together—stuff we never did before. When he told me about his heart, I almost lost it.
Our own father put him there.
This has to stop. Now.
“What can I do to make it right?” he asks. “There has to be something.”
My brain goes into overdrive. The words come out before I even filter them. “Step down from Property Group.”
“What? You guys aren’t—”
“We are. We’re ready. We want full freedom. We don’t want to feel like we’re under your thumb every time something doesn’t go your way.”
He opens his mouth, then closes it, thinking it over. “…Alright.”
Wait. Did he just agree? “We want it in writing. You’ll still keep your shares, but no control.” I know I’m pushing, but I need to see how far he’s really willing to go.
“Send me the papers when they’re ready, son.”
I nod once. Arms crossed. Heart pounding.
Then he looks past me and smiles softly. “There she is.”
I can feel Emma walking toward me. Her hand slides around my waist, anchoring me.
I’m here, it says.
“Emma,” my father starts, “this apology’s for you too. I don’t know what I was thinking, threatening you like that. I never intended to actually hurt anyone. I just... wanted to scare you. And I felt awful the moment I did it.”
“Past is past, Thomas,” she says. “You showing up here already says a lot.”
He nods, visibly relieved. Everyone knows my wife is more forgiving than I’ll ever be.
I wrap my arm around her and pull her closer.
“I’m glad you two found your way back to each other,” my father says, his voice cracking a little. “I’m glad you’re a family.”
A single tear rolls down his cheek. He pulls a white handkerchief from his pocket and dabs it away.
Emma steps toward him and, without warning, hugs him.
He stiffens, then hugs her back. And breaks down.
“Let it go, Thomas. You’re forgiven,” she says, loud enough to include me. “Right, Luca?”
I breathe in. Let it out. And step forward. I wrap them both in my arms. I know this wouldn’t be happening without her. It’s her softness, her light, that’s made it possible—me, at thirty-two, hugging my father for the first time in my life.
I’ll never be able to put my gratitude into words. I’ll never fully explain how her absence made me dark and bitter and lost. But I’ll show her. Every damn day. By cherishing her body, loving her freely, and honoring this family, she gave back to me.