Chapter 5 - The Dawn of Astor Street
Three months later, the construction cranes on Astor Street were hard at work.
The ruins of the old mansion had been cleared away to make room for something new—a sprawling, modern estate surrounded by high security walls, but built with warm stone, wide windows, and a massive, sunlit garden facing the sparkling blue expanse of Lake Michigan.
In the center of the courtyard, sitting on a wooden swing hanging from an old oak tree that had miraculously survived the fire, sat eight-year-old Lily, kicking her feet in the air and laughing as she sketched a picture of a dragon wearing a superhero cape.
Standing a few feet away, leaning against the railing of the newly built porch with a cup of coffee in his hand, was Vincent Moretti.
Elena walked out of the sliding glass doors, carrying a plate of sliced strawberries and setting them down on the patio table. She wore a simple white linen dress, her hair catching the morning breeze off the lake.
She walked over to Vincent, slipping her arm naturally around his waist. He wrapped his free arm around her shoulders, pulling her close against his side.
“You know,” Elena murmured, watching Lily chase a butterfly across the grass, “the papers are still calling you the most dangerous man in Illinois.”
Vincent chuckled, a rich, genuine sound that no one outside this courtyard had ever heard. “Let them read the papers, Elena. The king doesn't care what the peasants say about his crown anymore.”
“And the empire?” she asked, looking up at him with a soft, teasing smile. “Did you leave any enemies standing?”
“Not enemies,” Vincent corrected, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “Just survivors. The boardrooms are clean, the shipping routes are secure, and my lawyers have spent the last month transferring half of Moretti Holdings into a trust bearing a very specific little girl's name.”
From across the lawn, Lily suddenly stopped running, turned around, and waved frantically at them.
“Mom! Dad! Come look at the dragon! He’s breathing pink fire!”
Vincent froze for a fraction of a second, a strange, beautiful warmth flooding his chest at the word Dad. He looked down at Elena, whose eyes were shining with unshed tears of absolute happiness.
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“Coming, sweetheart!” Vincent called back.
He set his coffee mug down on the railing, took Elena’s hand in his, and together, the dangerous mafia boss and the woman who had saved him walked across the green grass toward their daughter, stepping out of the ashes and into a future that could never burn down.
