Epilogue
Frances
Six months later
The sun is warm on my shoulders, and the light breeze rustles the rows of folding chairs lined up on the football field of Sacred Heart Academy. Somewhere behind me, someone’s cap is already sliding off their head and giggles flow through the sea of students.
But I remain perfectly still while Lucky’s hand squeezes mine every so often, his non-verbal reminder that he’s in this with me all the way.
Sister Margaretta stands at the front podium, her voice, clear and bright, carrying across the field with expert ease.
“Today is not only a day of endings,” she says, her smile soft and proud, “but of beginnings. You step out not just as graduates, but as young women and men who have seen the world for what it is and chosen to meet it with grace, courage, and yes, maybe a little bit of holy mischief, too.”
Laughter ripples through the crowd, followed by a few whistles when Sister Margaretta tosses a wink in our direction, her smile landing directly on the man standing beside me.
Lucky.
My Lucky.
Their relationship used to be… complicated, to say the least. But somehow, all of that tension melted away the day Lucky brought me home from Russia, safe and sound.
I remember how my heart pounded at the thought of telling her everything—what had happened, what I’d been through, and what kind of life I was about to choose for myself. I thought she’d be disappointed. I thought I’d let her down.
But the second I stepped into St. Mary’s Orphanage, Sister Margaretta didn’t seem to care about any of it. She ran to me, arms open, and pulled me into one of those warm, crushing hugs I’d missed so much. The kind of hugs she used to give me as a child. She was just happy I was safe and back in Chicago.
Apparently, Lucky’s mother had been keeping her updated the whole time—at least, the edited version. Selene Romano left out the part about me being kidnapped by Russian mobsters and discovering my biological family runs a criminal empire, but she gave Sister Margaretta just enough to keep her from spiraling due to my absence.
And to my utter shock, Sister Margaretta didn’t even bat an eye when I told her I wasn’t joining the convent—that I’d been accepted into culinary school and was moving into an apartment Uncle Misha got me in the city.
I was positive she’d be disappointed when I told her I wasn’t going to follow in her footsteps. But instead, she just smiled and said, “I always knew you’d find your own way. And that it’d be something beautiful.”
All this time, I’d been so afraid of letting her down—so focused on making her proud—when all she ever wanted for me… was to be happy.
Like any mother would.
My heart swells with love as I look at her now, watching over her students with that same affection she has for all her kids.
Sister Margaretta’s eyes twinkle as she continues. “You’ve all overcome more than your share of trials—some of which gave me more gray hairs than I’ll ever admit—but you’ve emerged wiser. Stronger. And more importantly, kinder. I could not be prouder of this class. Of the men and women I know you’ll become.” She then gestures off to the side. “And now, it is my honor to introduce your valedictorian. A young man who’s proven himself in both scholarship and spirit—Enzo Romano.”
Applause swells as Enzo steps forward, tall and calm, with that Romano confidence that must run in the blood. His smile flicks toward the crowd, but his eyes find his twin for just a second, throwing Lucky a quiet nod and knowing look.
I’ve seen that look too many times for me not to know what it means.
It’s the same one Lucky gives when he loves someone with all his heart but tries to hide it behind a cocky smirk.
Enzo clears his throat and leans slightly into the mic, giving a crooked smile that earns a small cheer from the Romano clan in the back. I throw my head back for a quick glance and see most of Lucky’s family standing tall with larger-than-life smiles on their faces as they wait for Enzo to start his speech.
“I thought about standing up here and giving one of those classic speeches,” he commences, “the kind that quote philosophers or presidents, and talk about how the future is ours to shape. And all of that is true. But it also feels… kind of overwhelming, doesn’t it?”
“You got that right!” someone shouts from the sea of blue gowns and caps.
“I feel you, buddy. The truth is, the future is uncertain. It’s wild, unpredictable, and let’s be honest—kind of terrifying. We’re stepping into this big world, and we don’t know what it’s going to throw at us. But there’s one thing we have that we should never take for granted.” He pauses, scanning the crowd with something quiet and proud in his expression. “Family.” As his voice softens, everyone goes silent, eager to hear what he says next. “Maybe it’s the family you were born into. Maybe it’s the one you found along the way. Or maybe it’s a little bit of both. But that family…those people who love you, who fight for you, who stand beside you even when things get messy and chaotic—that’s our anchor. That’s our power.”
Lucky squeezes my hand and I squeeze his right back, knowing that Enzo’s words are not only directed at his classmates, but at us, too.
“So when the future starts to feel too big or too fast, just remember one thing. You’re not facing it alone. We’ve got each other. And as our family grows—with new friendships, new loves, new lives—we grow stronger. Don’t be afraid to fall. We’ll be there to catch each other.” He pauses, his gaze flicking to the back of the field where a certain former priest is waiting for him. “If you fall…I will catch you. Always.”
The applause is instant, loud, and real.
And for the life of me, I can’t stop smiling. My cheeks hurt. My chest is light, like all the weight of the past year has lifted, piece by piece, and floated off into this perfect blue sky.
Sister Agnes takes the podium and starts calling out graduates to hand out their diplomas.
“You ready, babe?” Lucky whispers in my ear, his hands resting gently on my waist.
“I am,” I say, beaming.
“See you up there.” He winks, and with that, I join the line of students making their way to the stage.
“Frances O’Malley!” Sister Agnes calls out, her voice proud and bright.
Sister Margaretta is waiting for me at center stage, her eyes already misty, arms extended with my diploma in hand.
“Thank you,” I tell her softly as I take it.
“No, sweet girl,” she says, squeezing my hand. “Thank you for being exactly who you were meant to be.”
Tears sting at the backs of my eyes as I raise my diploma high in the air. A wave of cheers explodes from the Romano side of the crowd—only to be outdone seconds later by my own family’s thunderous applause.
There they are—Uncles Kirill, Kostya, and Sasha in the front row. My little brother, Darius, is perched on Kostya’s shoulders, waving both arms and shouting my name with all the force his tiny lungs can manage.
My heart tugs just a little when I scan the crowd and don’t see Uncle Misha or Aunt Elena. But I understand. Elena’s seven months pregnant, and Misha wouldn’t risk the travel—not with how complicated things have been for her. From what Uncle Sasha hinted, this pregnancy has been… difficult. And when Kostya told me Elena’s health was declining, I knew there was no way I could spend the summer anywhere but with her in Russia once the baby was born.
Lucky isn’t thrilled about the plan, but he gets it. He knows how important Elena is to me and that when it comes to family, I won’t hesitate to be there for them when they need me. Ever.
And Darius? He’s already counting down the days for our trip. Finding my family changed everything for me, but it did just as much for him. I meant it when I told Lucky I was going to adopt him. He might not be my son, but he’s my family in every way that counts.
That’s when Sister Margaretta came through for me once again. Instead of adoption, she suggested I foster Darius, so we could still keep our brother-and-sister dynamic.
She walked me through every form, every child services visit, and every obstacle that came our way. With Selene and Vincent Romano supporting the process—turns out their names carry a lot of weight in this city—it wasn’t long before Darius was living with me in our new apartment.
Life after that…has been pretty sweet if I so myself.
As I step off the stage, diploma still clutched tight in one hand, I slip back to my seat just in time to watch Enzo and Lucky take their turn.
Enzo walks like he’s done this before—cool, calm, every inch the valedictorian. He accepts his diploma with a nod and a subtle smile that earns him quiet admiration from the crowd.
Then it’s my Lucky’s turn to take center stage—unpredictable, magnetic, entirely himself.
He strolls up to Sister Margaretta, takes the diploma, and leans in to whisper something in her ear. Whatever he says makes her cheeks flush crimson, causing him to give her one of his trademark smirks. A beat later, he turns to the audience, sticks out his tongue, and throws up a rock-and-roll sign.
The crowd loses it.
And before anyone can blink, he’s leaping off the stage, making a beeline toward me. He lifts me clean off the ground, twirling me until I’m dizzy with laughter.
“Put me down,” I giggle, swatting his shoulder. “It’s not over yet.”
“Oh, I know,” he says, grinning as he kisses me. “But it’s been an hour since I last kissed you, and I was starting to get antsy.”
I roll my eyes and laugh.
“What did you say to Sister Margaretta?” I ask, curious.
“You’ll see,” he says cryptically.
Sister Margaretta returns to the podium, her voice ringing out clear over the field one last time.
“And now, with pride and great joy, please join me in congratulating the graduating Class of 2025!”
The crowd erupts into cheers as a thousand caps fly into the air.
And then—boom!
Two loud pops echo across the field as hidden cannons fire from either side of the stage, launching a storm of glittering confetti and fluttering white slips of paper into the sky.
The entire crowd goes wild.
Laughter spreads like wildfire as people scramble to grab the notes drifting to the ground.
I pick one up and read it out loud, “Thou Shalt Not Flunk College.”
Another floats into my hand and I read that one too. “Blessed Are The Party Animals.”
Someone nearby hollers, “Mine says, ‘Go Forth and Make Money. Amen!’”
I look over at Lucky, who’s grinning like a cat who swallowed the last communion wafer.
“One last prank, huh?” I say, raising a brow.
He shrugs, completely unrepentant. “You know me. Either go big or go home.”
I roll my eyes, still laughing as he slips his arm around my waist.
We’re surrounded by chaos—flying caps, and what I hope is biodegradable torn paper, and a whole lot of people shouting, hugging, and celebrating.
But somehow, in this exact moment, it feels like everything is exactly how it was always supposed to be.
Me in Lucky’s arms, while the rest of the world falls in joyous chaos.