Chapter 10 - The Sovereign Heart
Two years later.
The Moretti estate had changed so completely that anyone who had attended that dreadful engagement dinner would barely recognize it.
The heavy iron security gates remained, discreet and vigilant, but the atmosphere within the walls was no longer one of paranoid coldness. The grand ballroom, once a museum of austere arrogance, had been transformed into a light-filled conservatory and music hall. Toys were scattered across the Persian rugs without apology; laughter echoed through the vaulted corridors from dawn until dusk.
On a warm Saturday afternoon in mid-summer, the smell of woodsmoke and barbecue drifted from the outdoor pavilion overlooking Lake Michigan.
Daniel and several off-duty security team members were sitting around the stone patio, laughing over cold beers while tossing tennis balls for the massive golden retriever, now named Barnaby, who sprinted across the lawn with tireless enthusiasm.
I stood on the wide second-story balcony of the master suite, leaning my forearms against the warm stone railing.
My hair was loose around my shoulders, blowing gently in the lake breeze. I wore a soft linen sundress, my hand resting gently against the pronounced, beautiful swell of my stomach. Five months along, carrying our second child—a boy, whose kicks had grown strong and steady over the past three weeks.
A pair of strong, familiar arms wrapped around my waist from behind.
Luca pulled me flush against his broad chest, his large hands splaying over mine, resting directly on our unborn son. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply, sighing with a profound, bone-deep contentment.
“He’s active today,” Luca murmured, his voice rich and deep, vibrating against my back as a gentle thump nudged his palm.
“He takes after his father,” I smiled, tilting my head back to rest against his shoulder. “Restless, stubborn, and completely unwilling to wait for anything.”
Luca chuckled, kissing my jawline with lingering warmth. “I can live with that. As long as he gets his mother’s heart.”
Below us on the lawn, five-year-old Lily was running through the automatic sprinklers, her yellow swimsuit soaked, her curls plastered to her forehead, laughing hysterically as Barnaby chased the water jets alongside her.
She stopped, looked up toward the balcony, and jumped up and down, waving both hands over her head.
“Mama! Daddy! Look at me! I’m a mermaid!”
Luca laughed, leaning over the railing, waving back with his free hand. “Don't stay in the cold water too long, Lily-bug! Mrs. Higgins is bringing the peach cobbler out in ten minutes!”
“Okay, Daddy!” She took off running again, the dog bounding beside her like a golden shadow of absolute security.
I looked down at the scene, feeling a wave of emotion so profound it brought sweet, happy tears to the corners of my eyes.
I remembered that night three years ago. I remembered the cold, terrifying smell of that dark corridor. I remembered the searing fire of the utility blade tearing into my thigh, the blood filling my sneakers, the crushing weight of the sledgehammer in my trembling hands, and the desperate cries of a little girl trapped behind a wall of cold stone.
I had swung that hammer thinking I would likely die on that marble floor. I had swung it with no hope of a reward, no dream of a future, simply driven by the primal, unyielding need to ensure that an innocent child was not left in the dark.
And from those shattered shards of glass, a new world had been born.
Luca turned me in his arms, his gray eyes shining with an unconditional love that had completely replaced the cold, soulless shadows of his past. He reached up, his thumb gently caressing my cheek, catching a stray tear before it could fall.
“What are you thinking about, my love?” he asked softly.
I smiled, laying my palms flat against his chest, feeling the steady, rhythmic beat of his sovereign heart beneath his shirt.
“I was thinking about the painting,” I whispered.
May you like
Luca smiled—a warm, breathtaking smile that lit up his entire face. He leaned down, resting his forehead against mine, his fingers tangling into my hair with an eternal, protective certainty.
“Some walls are built to keep the world out, Hannah,” Luca murmured, his lips brushing against mine as the summer wind swirled through the trees. “And some are built just so the right person can tear them down.”
