Chapter 9 – THE POCKET WATCH

Sophie walked across the ruined marble floor in her yellow pajamas, completely unfazed by the chaos that had just unfolded.

She walked straight up to me and handed me the small, worn velvet box.

“Grandma told me to bring this to you when I woke up,” the eight-year-old said, her voice still groggy from the sedative.

I looked at Teresa. The elderly matriarch smiled warmly, nodding encouragingly.

I opened the box.

Answer one: Resting on the velvet was an antique gold pocket watch. It was beautifully engraved with the initials A.C.

“Arthur Collins,” I whispered, tears instantly blurring my vision. “My father’s watch.”

“He gave it to Elena before he died,” Teresa explained softly, stepping closer. “Elena gave it to me to hold onto. She said if her daughter ever found her way to this house, I was to give it to her. To tell her that her father loved her more than life itself.”

The final piece of my father’s legacy was restored. He hadn’t left me a burden; he had left me proof of his love.

I clutched the watch to my chest, overwhelmed by the emotional repair of a wound I had carried for years.

“Thank you,” I choked out, looking at Teresa.

Luca knelt down to Sophie’s eye level.

“How are you feeling, sweetie?” Luca asked gently, brushing her dark curls back.

“I’m okay, Daddy,” Sophie smiled. She looked at me. “Is Vanessa gone?”

“She’s gone forever,” Luca promised.

“Good,” Sophie stated matter-of-factly. “She was mean. I like Hannah better.”

Luca laughed—a rich, genuine sound that I had never heard before. It transformed his entire face, making him look breathtakingly handsome.

He stood up and looked at me.

“Out of the mouths of babes,” Luca murmured, his eyes locking onto mine with a fierce, undeniable affection.

The cleanup of the mansion took hours. The police arrived, took our statements, and hauled Falcone’s crew away. The sun began to rise over Chicago, casting a warm, golden light through the massive foyer windows.

I sat on the terrace steps, holding a cup of hot coffee, watching the morning light chase away the shadows of the estate.

Luca walked out, carrying two blankets. He wrapped one around my shoulders and sat down beside me, close enough that our arms brushed.

“It’s quiet,” Luca noted, staring out at the manicured lawns.

“For now,” I smiled tiredly.

“I’m stepping down,” Luca said suddenly.

I turned to him, shocked. “From the syndicate?”

“From all the illegal operations,” Luca confirmed, his voice resolute. “I’m transitioning the family entirely into legitimate real estate and shipping. The mafia life took my father, it took Elena, and it almost took Sophie. I’m done. I want a clean life.”

Open two: Can a man like Luca Moretti simply walk away from the underworld? And is there a place for me in this new, clean life?

“That’s a brave choice,” I said softly.

Luca turned to me, his dark eyes intense and incredibly vulnerable.

“I want to build a real home, Hannah,” Luca said. “No secrets. No lies. Just a family. But I can’t do it alone.”

He reached into his pocket.

He didn’t pull out a weapon or a piece of evidence.

He pulled out a simple, flawless diamond ring.

TITLE: THE SAFE HOME

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