Nolan had six-year-old Leo pinned face-down on the grass when Serafina reached them.

Three years later.

The summer sun set peacefully over the Berkshire Hills, painting the sky in breathtaking shades of gold, pink, and violet.

On the expansive stone patio of the Valenti country estate, a long outdoor dining table was set with fresh pasta, warm bread, and crystal glasses.

Around the table sat the entire family: Santino, now happily retired and telling animated stories to a ten-year-old Mia; Bruno, laughing over a glass of wine with the estate managers; and young Leo, now nine years old, proudly showing off his latest science fair trophy.

Serafina stood at the edge of the stone balcony, holding a glass of sparkling water, watching the scene before her with a heart full of absolute peace.

The blood feuds were over. The traitors were gone. Her children were safe, healthy, brilliant, and completely free from the violent shadow that had once threatened to consume their lives.

She felt a gentle autumn breeze touch her cheek, carrying with it the quiet memory of Matteo.

We did it, Matteo, she thought softly to herself. Our children are safe. Our family is whole.

Leo ran over to the balcony, wrapping his arms around her waist and looking up at her with a radiant, happy smile.

"Come eat, Auntie Sera!" Leo giggled, pulling her hand toward the table. "Santino is about to cut the cake!"

Serafina laughed—a warm, beautiful sound that echoed across the peaceful hills—and let her young heir lead her back to the warm light of the family table.