Chapter 8 - The First Step
Three months later, the spring sun was shining brightly over the manicured lawns of the Brooklyn brownstone.
The ballroom in the Manhattan mansion had been completely renovated—the pink silk ribbons and crystal bowls replaced by an expansive, sunlit library where Arthur Voss’s books filled every shelf.
Inside the courtyard, Ivy and Esme stood side by side, wearing lightweight summer dresses, their titanium leg braces hidden smoothly beneath long, flowing skirts. They didn't need wheelchairs anymore. They didn't need anyone’s permission to move, to run, or to live.
Dante Moretti stood by the stone patio railing, watching them toss a tennis ball back and forth across the lawn with effortless coordination.
Sal walked up behind him, handing him a sealed manila envelope.
“Federal prosecutors finished auditing the remaining Voss accounts this morning, Boss,” Sal reported quietly. “Celeste was denied bail. Her trial starts in September. The Calabrese syndicate has officially pulled out of the New York shipping lanes after our last warning.”
Dante took the envelope, sliding it into his jacket without opening it. His eyes remained fixed on the twins.
Esme caught the tennis ball, laughed brightly, and looked straight over at Dante. She waved her hand, signaling him to join them on the lawn.
Dante hesitated for a microsecond—a man who had spent decades knee-deep in the dark, violent underbelly of the city, a man who believed he was only suited for shadows and blood.
Then, he smiled. A genuine, unguarded smile that reached his eyes for the first time in four years.
May you like
He walked down the stone steps onto the grass, stepping into the warm spring sunlight.
Arthur Voss’s girls were safe. The debt was paid. And as Dante caught the tennis ball Esme tossed his way, he realized that keeping a promise to a dead brother was the only thing that had ever truly mattered.
