Chapter 10 - HOME
Six months later, the city barely remembered Vincent Moretti.
The newspapers had called him a criminal king.
Then a cooperating witness.
Then a businessman rebuilding his life.
He didn't care about the headlines anymore.
He cared about the small house outside Chicago.
The nursery.
The blue curtains.
The wooden crib.
And the woman sleeping upstairs.
Isabelle had survived everything.
So had their daughter.
A little girl.
They named her Elena.
After the woman who had started the chain of events that brought them there.
Vincent stood beside the crib.
Elena opened her eyes.
She reached for his finger.
He smiled.
"You're going to be trouble."
Isabelle appeared in the doorway.
"She gets that from you."
Vincent turned.
She was wearing one of his shirts.
Her hair was loose.
For the first time, there were no guards outside the bedroom.
No weapons beneath the mattress.
No locked gates.
Just morning sunlight.
Vincent crossed the room.
"You should be resting."
"You've said that every day for six months."
"And I'll keep saying it."
She smiled.
Then she touched his face.
"Do you regret saving me?"
"Every day."
Her eyes widened.
He smiled.
"Because now I can't imagine my life without you."
She laughed softly.
He kissed her forehead.
"I love you."
She looked at him.
"Say it again."
"I love you."
She kissed him.
Their daughter made a tiny noise from the crib.
They both laughed.
For a few seconds, everything was peaceful.
Then someone knocked at the front door.
Vincent's expression changed.
Old instincts returned.
He walked downstairs.
A package sat outside.
No return address.
Inside was a small silver pendant.
The same pendant that had once belonged to Isabelle's mother.
Vincent stared at it.
There was a folded note underneath.
He opened it.
Only six words were written.
YOU SAVED THE WRONG CHILD, VINCENT.
His blood went cold.
Behind him, Isabelle called:
"Vincent?"
He quickly folded the note.
"Nothing."
But he knew better.
The war had ended.
Maria was imprisoned.
The Falcones were dismantled.
Daniel had disappeared into federal custody.
The old empire was gone.
Yet someone had known exactly where they lived.
Someone had entered their past.
Someone had waited until they believed they were finally safe.
Vincent looked toward the stairs.
Isabelle stood there holding their daughter.
He walked to them.
He didn't tell her about the note.
Not yet.
Instead, he wrapped one arm around Isabelle and placed his other hand gently over Elena's blanket.
For the first time in his life, Vincent understood what his father had never taught him.
Protecting someone did not mean controlling them.
It meant standing beside them when the world became frightening.
It meant choosing them.
Every day.
Again and again.
Isabelle looked into his eyes.
"What's wrong?"
Vincent kissed her forehead.
"Nothing I can't handle."
She studied him.
"You know I'm not afraid anymore."
"I know."
"And whatever comes next..."
She took his hand.
"We face it together."
Vincent looked toward the dark window.
Somewhere beyond the quiet neighborhood, an unknown enemy was already moving.
But this time, Vincent Moretti wasn't alone.
He had a family.
A home.
A future.
And something far more powerful than fear.
He had something worth fighting for.
Outside, a black car slowly disappeared at the end of the street.
Inside the house, Elena began crying.
Isabelle smiled.
Vincent picked up his daughter.
And for the first time, the most feared man in Chicago smiled without looking over his shoulder.
Because whatever came next, he would not run.
He would face it with the woman he loved and the child he had almost lost before he ever knew she existed.
And somewhere in the darkness, the person who had left that note smiled.
May you like
The Moretti war was over.
But the real story had only just begun.
