THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED HIS FIANCÉE MAKE ME THROW AWAY A SLICE OF CAKE I’D WRAPPED FOR HIS ELDERLY DRIVER—THEN SHE SAID, “HE'S BEEN SNEAKING FOOD HOME TO HIS WIFE,” BEFORE LUCA EVEN ASKED WHY THE OLD MAN WAS CRYING. "Put that cake in the trash, Hannah -

Chapter 8 – THE CAKE AND THE CORNER PIECE

The hospital waiting room smelled of sterile bleach and old coffee.

It had been four hours since the ambulance finally took Walter away. Luca sat in a plastic chair, his arm bandaged, staring at the floor. I sat next to my mother, holding her hand so tightly my knuckles ached.

Rosie was asleep on a cot in the corner, a warm blanket tucked around her.

The door to the surgical wing swung open. A tired-looking doctor in green scrubs walked out.

Luca stood up immediately. “How is he?”

The doctor offered a small, exhausted smile. “He’s a stubborn old man, Mr. Moretti. The bullet missed his heart by an inch. He lost a lot of blood, but… he pulled through. He’s awake.”

A collective breath left all of us. I buried my face in my mother’s shoulder and cried tears of pure relief.

Luca let out a shaky laugh, wiping his eyes. “Can we see him?”

“Just for a minute,” the doctor said.

We walked into the ICU. Walter looked incredibly small in the hospital bed, hooked up to monitors and IVs. But when he saw us, his eyes crinkled in a warm smile.

Rosie rushed to his side, taking his hand. “You foolish man,” she scolded gently, tears streaming down her face. “You ruined your good uniform.”

“I’ll buy a new one,” Walter rasped.

Luca stepped up to the bed. For the first time, the boss of the Moretti family didn’t look like a boss. He looked like a son.

“You saved my life, Walter. You saved all of us.”

Walter shook his head slightly. “I just did my job, sir.”

“You don’t have a job anymore,” Luca said firmly.

Walter’s smile faded. “Sir?”

Luca reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of thick parchment paper. He laid it on Walter’s chest.

“That is the deed to the property bordering the lake, just outside the city,” Luca said. “It has a beautiful house. A rose garden. And it belongs to you and Rosie. Free and clear. No one will ever ask you to leave.”

Walter stared at the paper, tears pooling in his eyes. “Luca… I can’t accept this.”

“You have to,” Luca smiled. “Because I need neighbors I can trust.”

He turned to me and my mother. “And as for the Bellini estate, Hannah… it’s yours. But you don’t have to be a mob boss. My lawyers are dissolving the illegal assets. You and your mother will receive the legitimate businesses. You’ll never have to worry about rent again.”

I looked at my mother. She was crying, nodding in gratitude. The shadows that had haunted our family for decades were finally gone.

“Thank you, Mr. Moretti,” I whispered.

“Call me Luca,” he said gently.

Two weeks later.

The sun was shining brightly over the lake. Walter and Rosie’s new house was beautiful, painted white with blue trim.

My mother and I were setting a picnic table on the back patio. Luca was grilling in the backyard, laughing as he burned a hot dog.

Walter sat in a comfortable armchair on the porch, his arm still in a sling, watching the water.

Rosie walked out of the kitchen, carrying a white cardboard box.

“I made something,” she announced proudly.

She set the box on the table and opened it. Inside was a slightly crooked, three-layer vanilla cake with thick buttercream frosting.

Walter’s eyes widened. “Rosie… you remembered.”

Rosie smiled softly, though her eyes were a little foggy today. “I didn’t remember exactly why I was baking it,” she admitted, touching his cheek. “But I knew I wanted to give you the corner piece.”

Walter reached up and held her hand. He didn’t care about the mansions, the mafia, or the secrets. He had everything he ever wanted right in front of him.

“It’s perfect, my love,” Walter whispered. “It’s absolutely perfect.”