Chapter 10 - A Real Family
Six Months Later
The morning sun washed over the sprawling lawn of the Fenwick Street community park.
The old brownstone on Fenwick Street had been completely renovated—not into a foster home, but into the Marisol Vega Community Center for Children, fully funded by the Vance Foundation. It featured a state-of-the-art learning center, a heated indoor gym, and a counseling center that provided free legal and housing support for hundreds of local families.
Inspector Reynolds and Donovan Rossi were both serving heavy federal prison sentences following a massive state corruption investigation led by Victor’s legal team.
On the park’s fresh green grass, a massive summer barbecue was in full swing.
Jamal was showing Caleb and Nico how to fly a remote-controlled drone, their loud laughter echoing across the field. Talia sat on a picnic bench, helping Sophie read a new novel, while Luis was proudly showing Arthur, the butler, his updated collection of rare antique coins.
And near the playground, eight-year-old Matteo and six-year-old Avery were swinging high into the sky, cheered on by little Bibi, who was eating an ice cream cone twice the size of her face.
I stood by the long picnic tables, wearing a sun dress, setting down fresh trays of grilled burgers and potato salad.
A pair of strong, familiar arms wrapped gently around my waist from behind. Victor leaned down, resting his chin on my shoulder, kissing my neck softly.
"You're working too hard, Mrs. Vance," Victor murmured in his deep, gravelly baritone.
I smiled, turning around in his arms, resting my hands against his chest. We had been married two months ago in a private, beautiful ceremony in the estate gardens, surrounded by nine children who had dressed up in miniature suits and dresses.
"Someone has to feed this army, Don Victor," I teased, smiling up into his warm gray eyes.
"They're not an army anymore, Mari," Victor said softly, looking over my shoulder at the nine children playing happily in the sunshine. "They're just kids. Our kids."
Matteo ran over, kicking a soccer ball, stopping right beside us. "Grandpa! Mari! Look! Jamal said I can play on the middle school team this fall!"
Victor dropped to one knee, wrapping his arm around his grandson, pulling him into a tight hug. "You're going to be the captain, Leo. I'll be in the front row of every game."
"We all will," I added, kneeling down beside them, wrapping my arms around both of them.
One by one, the other eight children noticed us huddled together and came running across the grass. Jamal, Talia, the twins, Sophie, Luis, Avery, and little Bibi threw themselves into a massive, laughing, messy group hug in the middle of the sunny park.
There were no more dead heaters. No more cold nights. No more terrifying envelopes from the bank or fear of being torn apart.
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The plus-size woman with a big heart and the feared Mafia Don had built something stronger than a fortress, stronger than money, and stronger than the law.
They had built a family.
