Chapter 9 - The First Breath
The birth happened on a Tuesday, during a summer rainstorm that mirrored the night they had reunited.
The house was chaotic, filled with the presence of a local midwife and Victor Hale, who had stayed on as their protector.
Lorenzo was useless, pacing the pine floors until the soles of his feet ached.
Then, the cry.
Thin, piercing, and absolutely vital.
Victor opened the door, a rare, genuine grin on his face.
"He's here, Lorenzo."
Lorenzo entered the room, his heart hammering against his ribs in a way it hadn't since his days in the syndicate.
Vivien lay in the bed, pale but triumphant.
She held a small bundle in her arms.
Lorenzo knelt by the bed, his breath catching as he looked at his son.
"He looks like you," Vivien whispered.
"No," Lorenzo said, tears clouding his vision. "He looks like a new start."
The baby opened his eyes—clear, unburdened eyes.
Lorenzo reached out, his calloused finger touching the baby’s tiny, smooth palm.
"Welcome home," he whispered.
May you like
The Moretti empire was gone.
But this—this was the only empire that mattered.
