Chapter 10 - The Life We Chose
Luca did not speak for almost a minute.
Jake stood between two federal marshals outside the courthouse while reporters shouted behind barricades.
“My mother died six years ago.”
“I know what you were told.”
Luca’s face hardened.
“I buried her.”
“So did Ava.”
That silenced everyone.
Jake handed the envelope to Agent Harper.
Inside was a photograph.
A woman in her late fifties sat beside a window.
Luca took one look and stopped breathing.
“Isabella.”
His mother.
The photograph had been taken four days earlier.
A facility outside Vancouver, Washington.
According to Jake, Antonio had hidden Isabella after she discovered he planned to retake the Castellano organization through Caleb.
The funeral six years earlier had been staged.
History had repeated itself.
Two mothers.
Two fake deaths.
Two families controlled by men who believed love was another weapon.
Federal agents raided the facility that evening.
Isabella Castellano was alive.
When Luca entered her hospital room the following morning, I stayed outside.
Some reunions belonged only to the people who had survived the separation.
I watched through the glass.
Luca stopped beside her bed.
Isabella lifted one trembling hand.
My terrifying mafia boss became a little boy.
He dropped to his knees.
She touched his face.
And Luca cried.
I turned away because I loved him enough not to watch.
Six months later, Seattle looked different.
Maybe because my life did.
Antonio Castellano was dead.
Caleb Sloane received a federal sentence that guaranteed Emma would be an adult before he had any realistic chance of freedom.
Dante accepted a plea agreement and disappeared into federal custody.
Jake received seven years after cooperating extensively with investigators.
I did not forgive him.
Not yet.
But I sent him one photograph of Emma on her fourth birthday.
No address.
No message.
Just proof that the daughter he had failed was alive and happy.
My mother moved into a small house near Lake Washington.
Isabella moved three streets away.
Within two months, the two women became impossible.
They drank coffee together.
Argued about gardening.
Conspired to feed Emma sugar after I said no.
And apparently discussed my relationship with Luca as though neither of us were adults.
Mrs. Chen joined them often.
Luca called the three of them “the council.”
He feared them more than the FBI.
His sentencing finally arrived in May.
I sat beside Matteo.
Luca stood before the judge.
He had surrendered millions in illegal assets, provided evidence that solved several long-running investigations, dismantled criminal operations inherited from his father, and compensated victims through a court-supervised fund.
He did not escape consequences.
He received eighteen months of home confinement, five years of probation, substantial financial penalties, and permanent restrictions on several industries.
When we walked outside, Luca looked at the electronic monitor around his ankle.
“This is humiliating.”
I smiled.
“Mine was a medical brace.”
“Yours looked better.”
“Everything looks better on me.”
“That is unfortunately true.”
He kissed me.
Emma ran toward us.
“Luca!”
He crouched and caught her.
“You’re stuck at home!”
“So I’ve been informed.”
“Can we make pancakes?”
His expression became tragic.
“Apparently my punishment has already begun.”
A year earlier, I had carried coffee on an injured ankle because I couldn’t afford my daughter’s medicine.
Now the first phase of Carter Harbor opened on the old North Sound property.
Three hundred affordable apartments.
A childcare center.
Forty-two small-business spaces.
A public waterfront park.
And the Evelyn Carter Children’s Clinic.
I named it after my mother.
She cried for twenty minutes.
At the opening ceremony, I stood behind a podium and looked across the crowd.
Nurses.
Families.
Construction workers.
Former Castellano employees now working legitimate jobs.
Mrs. Chen.
Matteo.
Isabella.
My mother.
And Luca.
Emma sat on his shoulders.
He was supposed to be intimidating.
The pink bow Emma had clipped into his hair ruined the effect.
Good.
Afterward, we walked toward the pier.
The November rain had returned.
Exactly one year since Marino’s.
“You remember that night?” I asked.
“I remember you dropping a pitcher.”
“I did not drop it. My ankle collapsed.”
“Technical distinction.”
“You were incredibly bossy.”
“I was charming.”
“You carried me out of my workplace against my will.”
“You couldn’t walk.”
“You locked me in your SUV.”
“For safety.”
“You knew my name before I told you.”
He smiled.
“That part was admittedly difficult to explain.”
Emma ran ahead toward Isabella.
I watched her.
Healthy.
Safe.
Laughing.
The sight still had the power to hurt.
Luca slipped his hand into mine.
“Your grandfather would like what you built.”
“I hope so.”
“He would.”
“You never met him.”
“I read enough of his insults toward my father to feel we would have gotten along.”
I laughed.
We reached the end of the pier.
Seattle rose across the water.
Gray sky.
Cold wind.
Ferries moving through the distance.
Nothing looked like a fairy tale.
That was why I loved it.
Real happiness was not perfect.
It was something you built after surviving what tried to destroy you.
“Ava.”
I turned.
Luca was no longer beside me.
He was kneeling.
“Oh, absolutely not.”
His eyebrows rose.
“I haven’t asked anything yet.”
“You’re kneeling.”
“My ankle monitor is uncomfortable.”
“Liar.”
Emma screamed from behind us.
“MAMA, SAY YES!”
I covered my face.
Luca looked over my shoulder.
“You were supposed to wait.”
Emma giggled.
Our mothers stood twenty feet away pretending they had nothing to do with this.
Matteo was filming.
Mrs. Chen was crying.
“This was supposed to be private?” I asked.
Luca sighed.
“I made the mistake of telling six Italian and Chinese women.”
“There are only three women standing there.”
“They each told someone.”
I laughed so hard my eyes filled.
Then Luca became serious.
He held out a ring.
“A year ago, I thought protecting someone meant controlling every possible danger around them.”
His eyes stayed on mine.
“You taught me something different.”
“What?”
“That love isn’t protection from life.”
He took my hand.
“It’s choosing who you face life with.”
My throat tightened.
“Ava Elizabeth Carter, I can’t promise you nothing bad will ever happen.”
“Good start.”
He smiled.
“I can promise you’ll never face it alone.”
The laughter disappeared from my chest.
In its place came something warmer.
Something quieter.
Home.
“Marry me.”
I looked at the man kneeling in front of me.
Luca Castellano had entered my life carrying secrets.
He had lied by omission.
He had frightened me.
Protected me.
Failed me.
Saved me.
And then, when the moment came, he had chosen to destroy the empire that made him powerful rather than let that empire become Emma’s inheritance.
I had spent most of my life believing safety meant never needing anyone.
I knew better now.
“Yes.”
Emma screamed.
Luca stood and kissed me.
Behind us, everyone applauded.
“Wait!” Emma shouted.
We separated.
She ran over carrying something behind her back.
“What is it?” I asked.
She held out a folded piece of paper.
It was a drawing.
Three stick figures.
One had long brown hair.
One was very small.
The third was absurdly tall.
Above them was a crooked yellow sun.
Underneath, Emma had written three shaky words with Isabella’s help.
OUR FAMILY HOME.
Luca stared at it.
His eyes became suspiciously bright.
Emma pointed at the tall figure.
“That’s you.”
“I assumed.”
“You live with us now.”
Luca glanced at me.
“Apparently the decision has been made.”
“She’s a Castellano already,” Isabella called.
I laughed.
“No, she absolutely is not.”
Emma tugged Luca’s sleeve.
“Are you my dad now?”
The world went quiet.
Luca crouched.
He never answered important questions quickly.
That was one of the things I had learned about him.
“Only if you want me to be.”
Emma frowned as though he had asked something ridiculous.
“You already make pancakes.”
Luca nodded solemnly.
“That is a serious commitment.”
“And you check monsters.”
“Every night.”
“And Mama loves you.”
His eyes found mine.
“Yes.”
“She told Grandma.”
“I suspected.”
Emma wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Then okay.”
Luca closed his eyes.
He held her carefully.
When he looked at me again, the most feared man in Seattle was crying.
I walked into his arms.
For a while, the three of us stayed there beneath the Seattle rain.
No bodyguards rushed us.
No phones rang.
Nobody was hunting us.
There were no photographs waiting inside envelopes.
No hidden names.
No doors we were afraid to open.
Six months later, we married at Carter Harbor.
Not in a cathedral.
Not inside one of Luca’s mansions.
On the waterfront.
Emma scattered so many flower petals that she ran out halfway down the aisle and returned to collect some so she could throw them again.
Matteo stood beside Luca.
Our mothers sat together in the front row.
Mrs. Chen cried before the ceremony even started.
Luca wore black.
Of course.
I wore the first expensive dress I had ever owned without checking the price tag before trying it on.
Before I walked toward him, my mother touched my arm.
“Your grandfather would be proud.”
I looked toward the harbor he had fought to protect.
“I hope so.”
“He would be proud because you did what none of us could.”
“What?”
“You stopped surviving.”
She smiled.
“And started living.”
I walked toward Luca.
He watched me the entire way.
The first night we met, I had been an exhausted waitress with sixty-three dollars in my purse, an injured ankle, and no idea whether I could afford medicine for my daughter.
He had been a feared man sitting in the darkest booth of a diner, surrounded by guards and secrets.
Neither of us had been looking for love.
We had been trying to survive.
Maybe that was why we recognized each other.
Not immediately.
Not easily.
But eventually.
At the altar, Luca took my hands.
Emma stood between us because she had declared herself “assistant bride.”
The officiant tried not to laugh.
“Ready?” Luca whispered.
I looked at him.
At Emma.
At our mothers.
At the people who had somehow become family after everything that had tried to tear us apart.
Then I remembered the night Luca carried me out of Marino’s.
I had thought being carried meant weakness.
I understood now.
Sometimes strength was walking alone.
Sometimes it was fighting.
Sometimes it was refusing to surrender.
And sometimes strength was finally trusting someone enough to let them carry you when you couldn’t take another step.
“Ready,” I whispered.
Luca smiled.
And this time, when he took my hand, I knew every secret behind his eyes.
He knew mine.
Neither of us needed saving anymore.
May you like
We simply chose each other.
And for the first time in my life, that was more than enough.
