Chapter 5 - The Matriarch's Peace
A year later, the Manhattan skyline looked brilliant from the floor-to-ceiling windows of my newly acquired penthouse.
I sat in a plush armchair, watching one-year-old Leo pull himself up on the edge of the coffee table, letting out a joyous, bubbling laugh. He had Dante’s dark hair, but his eyes—bright, curious, and full of innocent light—were entirely mine.
The Romano syndicate had completely collapsed. Without Dante’s leadership and funds, the rival families had absorbed his territory, and Dante himself was serving a forty-year sentence in a federal penitentiary in Colorado. He was a ghost, a cautionary tale whispered among men who believed their power made them immune to consequence.
I took a sip of my espresso, smiling as Leo took a wobbly, triumphant step toward me.
For seven years, I had compromised my own soul, believing that to love a powerful man meant submitting to his shadows. I had waited for him to choose me. I had waited for him to change. But the night I stood barefoot by that hospital window, listening to the rain and feeling the fierce, primal strength of motherhood wash over me, I realized something vital.
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I didn't need a powerful man to protect my family. I possessed enough power to destroy an empire all by myself.
I reached out, catching my son as he tumbled into my arms, pressing a warm kiss to his black hair. Dante had missed the birth of his son because he thought he had all the time in the world. He never realized that the second Leo took his first breath, his father's time had officially run out.
