Epilogue - Sicily
There was chaos in every corner of mine and Francesco’s new school building.
This one did have sleek cream floors and walls, locks on the door, and it held the sunshine in the daytime and elegance in the evening.
It had been a booming success.
I grinned so hard as I watched the community forming in our space that my cheeks hurt.
Children in tiny little suits and dresses ran rampant around the school’s open hallways as their parents in equally fancy dress spoke with a world they hadn’t met before.
It had been Milan’s idea to have an opening party to welcome our international friends to the idea of sending their children to New York for an education that hadn’t been available before.
He’d drawn on his connections, on his newfound emotions, and everyone had come.
All in one room, for the first time in history, was the New York and Sicilian Cosa Nostra owned by Caio Luciano, the Chicago Outfit which had been delegated to Oratio Gioffre, the Calabrian mob whose boss, Santiago Ontiveros, was both the Capo of the Italian mob and the boss of the Mexican cartel, our new connection in Ireland led by Tiernan Fallon, and Philadelphia who we had only grown closer to.
Milan’s position in the Cosa Nostra had become a statement, and the Famiglia reigned as the most powerful organization in the world. He’d shown his strength, but he’d done more than that; he’d shown his heart and that was where his true power lay.
Francesco had eventually told me it was he and Milan who had spent the time beside me in the hospital finding the building, and though I hadn’t done it myself, that didn’t feel like anything but a strength to know that I had a family that would make my dreams real when I couldn’t.
The moment I was able to, and we had keys, every surface in our home had been covered in blueprints and planning documents, much to Milan’s dismay.
He hadn’t known how to help because this wasn’t his domain, but he’d brought me tea and numbered the corner of the stacks of paper, and now there was expensive champagne and small bites on trays, outdoor games set up for the kids in the courtyard, and glittery banners and balloons.
As I stood to the side, admiring every inch of what we’d built, a pair of familiar hands found me and ran down the sparkles of my long pink dress, caging my body against his chest from behind.
I laughed, leaning back into Milan, allowing him to capture my lips in a deep kiss, one that screamed pride.
“You are exceptional.” He sighed like he truly could not mean it more. “And not just in your appearance tonight.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“That is untrue. You are capable of doing anything that you set your mind to, though I am unaware of how you are keeping our home happy and opening a school at the same time. You are an inspiration to me, angel.”
His voice was grounding amidst all the chaos, an anchor back to home.
It seemed impossible to have changed society as profoundly as we had and still have kept our home happy, but this was us, and we had overcome harder things.
We knew that there was still a lot of work to be done, and not just for women.
“They are my next priority as Capo,” Milan said quietly into my ear, and I followed his gaze to where Adriano and Francesco stood beside one another, but with a distance that was criminal for them.
They were in deep conversation with Francesco’s parents, who were, according to Francesco himself, the worst, most homophobic asshats in the world, only second to Diego Sansone.
“They will have a wedding and a thousand children if they so desire and not a single person in this society will show an ounce of judgment.”
“Agreed.” I nodded, though I knew it was a bigger task than even changing the misogyny had been. Adriano and Francesco were still hiding in public, and it broke my heart. “They deserve it more than anyone.”
He kissed my cheek gently, adjusting the bright pink tie he had worn to match my sparkle. “I think I shall endeavor to save them from Francesco’s foul mother and father. Will you be all right?”
“Of course.” I smiled. “They need you more than I do.”
I watched his tall frame retreat until he appeared by Adriano’s side. His Consigliere’s shoulders drooped in relief as Milan rested an arm around both his and Francesco’s necks and seemed to redirect the conversation.
My mission for freedom had become so much more than just me and women, and though that was the wake-up call the Famiglia had desperately needed, it wasn’t one that I alone could answer. It was one that I could begin to wake up to through Adriano and Francesco, but it would take time.
There was so much to be done, but we would do it, one day at a time.
I took one step back into the crowd, hoping to find my sister somewhere, but someone grabbed my hand, spinning me into a huddle that I could have sorely done without.
My mother stood before me, her eyes shining with the amount of makeup she’d layered on, likely to hide how my father had made her cry before they arrived, him by her side like a leech.
“Oh, Sicily.” She sighed, looking around. “What a wonderful evening.”
I forced a smile as I replied, “Thank you, Mom.”
“We’ve missed you so much,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion.
I hadn’t meant for it to come out, but I laughed—not because it was humorous but utterly ridiculous. “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed.”
My parents hadn’t contacted me once since I’d married Milan, nor since Fiorella had left their home and never returned.
I suspected it was our father’s order more than our mother’s, but Fiore and I were in strict agreement that we were better off without them, and Brenno and Milan strongly agreed too, perhaps more than we did.
Dad swigged the tall flute of champagne in his hand, tightening his hold on Mom’s waist as he said, “I’m glad we worked this out, Sicily. Can’t you see how beneficial this arrangement has been?”
My false smile fell. “This arrangement is my marriage, Dad. It always was a marriage; you just forced it.” I stepped closer, not allowing myself to see my father as the head of my household any longer. “Our happiness is thanks to us, not you.”
Dad’s face paled, and he looked shocked, stunned to the core, while I simply felt triumphant.
“Sicily,” Mom practically whined, forcing me to remember that she was there too. “Don’t be upset with your father, he does so—”
“Oh,” A familiar, loud, relieving voice said from behind me.
“Is that our mother still pretending that Dad hasn’t cheated on her with five women a week since she got pregnant the first time?
” Fiore clicked her heels right over to me, engulfing me in a strong hug before turning to our parents with her sparkly black dress and stern red lips.
My sister and I had spent weeks discussing things, stitching together the hole that the kidnapping had created between us.
Fiorella had found the courage to explain what had happened to her, and while it had shattered my heart, it explained the knot hers had formed with Brenno’s.
They made one another feel safe, and that was all they’d each ever wanted.
To say that my sister was the same girl she’d been back in New York would be a lie; this Fiore standing before me was certainly not the reckless, problematic Bianchi she had left New York as, but a softer version of herself that knew that when her chaos came out, Brenno would be right there, containing everyone else so she could be safe.
I hated to admit it, but they were good for one another.
Dad huffed a scoff, one that held no power. “Nice of you to come home, Fiore.”
“You’re welcome.” She smiled, but it was tense and fraught with anger as she stepped forward to pull Mom into a tense hug. “Hi, Mommy.”
“Are you okay, baby?” Mom asked, her lip wobbling.
A strong hand pressed firmly to my spine, and Brenno stood between my sister and me, holding us tall in front of the people who should have cared for us.
He scoffed at my mother, causing her to startle slightly.
“You’re asking her that now when she’s already been gone for the best part of a year? Are you fucking kidding me?”
My lips tried to smirk as Brenno’s angry face looked somewhat adorable in the sparkly bow tie Fiorella had coerced him into wearing.
One of the most dangerous men in the world was wearing a sparkly bowtie, and the other was wearing a pink one.
“I’m aware of how long my own daughter has been gone for,” Dad snapped, narrowing his eyes. “I assume you’re the reason my daughter went missing and hasn’t yet returned?”
“Yet returned?” Brenno chuckled. “Over my dead body will she return to you. You’ll be lucky if you get an invite to the fucking wedding, you—”
“Wedding?” My dad looked ready to pass away on the spot. “What wedding? You’re not—”
Someone cleared their throat, halting my father’s words. I looked to the side, and my jaw almost fell to the floor as I found Cesare standing tall in a tux that matched his brother’s with a tiny dark-haired attachment in his arms.
Cesare had been away, which only our family knew meant in a psychiatric institution.
At first, only Brenno, Ezio, and Milan had visited him, but over time, he had accepted me.
Bella hadn’t been so brave, worrying that he would regress if he saw her, but clearly, she had seen him since he came home, considering their son, Ciro, was currently fast asleep in the crook of Cesare’s arm.
I hadn’t known he was due to come home, but tears welled in my eyes at the thought that he’d done it, he’d made it out and got himself healthy in time to see his child’s first week.
It had been Bella’s one worry that Cesare would miss too much, and Ciro wouldn’t get to know his father, but he had been determined and here he was.
“Congratulations, Sicily,” he said, forcing the conversation with my parents to be long forgotten. “The place looks great.”
“When did you come home?” I focused on the only important thing—him.