Epilogue
Chloe
The drive home is a blur of relief and exhaustion. Emmanuel sits between Raffaello and me in the back seat, refusing to let go of my hand. Omero drives; Basili watches Emmanuel and me in the mirror from the passenger’s seat.
From the reports so far, we lost two men. Good men who gave their lives to bring Emmanuel home. I’ll mourn them later. Right now, all I can focus on is the little boy pressed against my side and the man I’m in love with in the front seat.
When we pull through the mansion gates, Maria is running down the front steps to meet us, tears streaming down her face. The moment we’re out of the car, she scoops Emmanuel up, falling in a crumpled heap on the ground, rocking him, and lulling him soothingly in rapid Italian.
An all too familiar scene. Only this time, Emmanuel speaks to her. “I’m okay. I’m safe.”
Maria’s eyes widen in response, looking from Emmanuel to Basili to me and back to Emmanuel. “You’re talking! Emmanuel, you’re actually talking!”
The revelation only makes her cry harder. Basili places a hand on Maria’s shoulder, his voice gentle. “Let’s get him inside. Get him cleaned up, fed, and into bed.”
We move as a unit into the house and up the stairs to Basili’s master bedroom, the biggest, safest room in the house. The room where we can all be together. He dismisses everyone, leaving just the three of us alone.
The bathroom is massive with a tub big enough for three people. I run the water while Basili helps Emmanuel out of his dirty clothes. Maria brings fresh pajamas from his room, soup, bread, and everything else she can think of.
Emmanuel climbs into bed after eating a few bites, and the words start pouring out.
“They kept me in a dark room. It was cold. There were men with guns blocking the door. I was so scared, Papa. But I remembered what you told me. About being brave. About the dragon protecting the castle.” His hands move through the water, making waves.
“I remembered Chloe. How she found me the first time. I knew you’d both come for me. ”
“Always,” Basili says, his voice rough. “Always, compione.”
“Are they all gone? The bad men?” Emmanuel looks between us. “Are we safe now?”
“They’re gone,” I reassure him. “They can’t hurt you anymore. They can’t hurt any of us.”
“Good.” He’s quiet for a moment, then he adds, “Chloe?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Can you stay? Forever?” His dark eyes are so earnest, so hopeful. “I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay and be my new mother.”
“Your mother?” I whisper, repeating the word tentatively, my throat tight.
He nods, tears spilling over. “I know you’re not really my mama, but you could be. If you wanted to be. If Papa wanted.”
I look at Basili. He’s watching us both, his eyes suspiciously bright.
“I’d like that,” he says simply. “If Chloe wants to be.”
“I’d like to stay,” I manage. “More than anything.”
Emmanuel throws his wet arms around my neck, and I hold him tight, not caring that I’m getting soaked. After his bath, we tucked him into Basili’s enormous bed. He’s drowning in the king-size mattress.
“I’m never sleeping alone again,” he declares, his little jaw set stubbornly, an expression I’ve seen from Basili many times before. “Never ever.”
Basili and I exchange a look over his head, trying collectively not to laugh.
“Never ever?” Basili asks.
“Never. You and Chloe have to stay with me. Guard me while I sleep. That’s the rule from now on. Ok?”
“Well,” I say, smoothing his damp hair back, “we can’t break the rules, can we?”
“Nope. Rules aren’t made to be broken!”
We sit on either side of him while his eyes grow heavy, and I play with his hair, comforting him until he begins to snore softly. He’s asleep in minutes, curled up in the center of the bed, one hand clutching mine, the other holding onto Basili’s shirt.
We sat there for a long time, just watching him breathe. Proof that he’s alive, he’s home, safe and sound. Finally, Basili nods toward the balcony. “Think we can escape for five minutes?”
I carefully extract my hand from Emmanuel’s grip, and we slip outside, closing the French doors quietly behind us. The night air is cool and crisp. The gardens below are peaceful, lit by soft landscape lighting. It’s hard to believe that just hours ago, we were in the midst of a war zone.
“Chloe.” Basili turns to me, taking both my hands in his. “I need to ask you something. To say something.”
“Okay.”
“I love you.” The words are simple, direct. “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for longer than I probably should admit. And Emmanuel isn’t the only one who wants you to stay.”
My heart is hammering in my chest now. “Basili —”
“Let me finish.” He brings my hands to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “You’re fierce and brave and stubborn as hell. You saved my son. Twice. Hell, you saved me. You protected our family. You’re everything I never knew I needed and everything I never want to lose.”
Tears well up in my eyes.
“So I’m asking you, Chloe Tao —” He releases one of my hands, reaching into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box.
Oh my God.
“— will you marry me? Will you stay and be Emmanuel’s mother, my wife, my partner in all of this?” He opens the box, revealing a stunning ring — a diamond surrounded by emeralds. “Will you choose us, the way we chose you?”
I can barely see through the tears. “Yes. Yes, of course, yes!”
He slides the ring onto my finger — it’s a perfect fit — and then he’s kissing me. Deep and thorough and full of promises. When we finally break apart, we’re both grinning like idiots.
“We should go back inside before Emmanuel wakes up and finds us gone,” I murmur.
“In a minute.” Basili pulls me close again, his forehead against mine. “I just want to enjoy this for a moment longer. Knowing your mine.”
“Basili, I’ve been yours since the day we met. It just took us a while to accept it,” I admit.
He pulls back and gazes into my eyes, stroking my hair back out of my face.
“We did it, tesoro. Your father is dead. The Triad is going to have to regroup and renegotiate. Shufen is the head of the Tao house. The Russians have backed off. Everything we’ve been through, I couldn’t have done without you. ”
The relief that crashes through me is overwhelming. “Wait — does that mean you found out who the mole on the inside was?”
“We did.” His voice hardens. “Though I’m still in a bit of shock over it. Marco of all people. Your father was the one to let the cat out of the bag.”
My stomach drops at that revelation. Marco…
“What are you going to do?” I ask gingerly.
“I’ll do what needs to be done to keep this family safe.” He hugs me, pulling me against his strong body, nuzzling my neck as he continues. “But that’s a problem for tomorrow. Just promise me, you’ll stay clear of the shed out back for the next few days, alright?”
Ah, yes, the shed. Raffaello had given me a fair warning about that place early on in my time at the mansion. I wouldn’t be going near it tomorrow or any other day, honestly.
“I promise.”
“Good.” He pulls back again, cupping my face and kissing me gently. “Now let’s go back inside before —”
“Papa? Chloe?” Emmanuel’s voice calls out from inside, a hint of fear evident in his tone.
“Coming,” I called out loud enough for him to hear. “I told you he was going to wake up.”
Basili laughs at the disgruntled I told you so face that I give him, then leads the way back inside. We climb into the big King-sized bed on either side of Emmanuel and link our arms behind his head. One happy family.
Curled up between us, Emmanuel drifts back to sleep, safe, loved, and home for good.
* * *
The wedding is six weeks later.
Six chaotic weeks of planning and preparing as things slowly find a new sense of normal around the mansion. Emmanuel continues to speak more frequently, coming further out of his shell as the days pass. He still has nightmares sometimes, but they’re becoming less frequent.
Shufen agreed to work with Basili to broker peace between the Triad and the Italian Families after our father’s death.
She arranged a hefty offering of resources in exchange for forgiveness on their behalf and for a chance to rebuild without all-out war.
Basili accepted, and now, she’s the head of what’s left of the Triad, cleaning house, rooting out the loyalists and separatists, and showing an entirely new side of herself.
She’s also agreed to be my maid of honor.
The wedding is at the mansion in the largest of the parlors on a cold winter day. A fire burns in the fireplace, snow falls lightly outside the windows, and the sun shines dimly through the large windows.
My dress makes me feel like a queen — Ivory silk in a mermaid cut with all the right lace details. Shufen helped me choose it, of course; we’d both cried at the boutique when I’d tried it on.
“You look beautiful, little sister,” she whispers as she adjusts my veil. “Your mother would be so proud.”
Jay made the drive to New York for the wedding, and I asked him to walk me down the aisle — after all he’s the most fatherly figure I’ve had in my life. The man who took in a sixteen-year-old and gave her a home.
“I’m so happy for you, kiddo,” he tells me as we make our way to the makeshift altar where Basili is waiting.
The ceremony is simple but gorgeous. Omero stands beside Basili as best man, his eyes constantly wandering to Shufen. Emmanuel serves as the ring bearer, beaming with joy in his little suit. Raffaelly, Maria, and a few others are there, cleaned up and in suits and gowns.
And Basili.
My God, Basili looks devastating in his tuxedo, his eyes locked on me as I walk toward him, his smile full of love. When I reach him, and Jay hands me off, I’m so filled with joy I can barely breathe.
We agreed to keep the vows traditional, but when Basili says, “I do,” he adds, “for as long as we both shall live and beyond.”
And when I say, “I do,” I mean it with every piece of me. There is no one else for either one of us in life or in death.