TAKE THAT LITTLE GIRL'S MICROPHONE AWAY, YOU IGNORANT LITTLE MAID! SHE HAS NOTHING IMPORTANT TO SAY!”

One month later, the first heavy snow of November began to fall over Lake Michigan.

Luca took Emily and Isabella away from Chicago to the Moretti private winter retreat in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. It was an expansive, rustic-timber lodge surrounded by whispering pines, frozen lakes, and total seclusion.

There were no bodyguards pacing the living room, no tension in the corridors, and no dark shadows of the past lingering in the corners. Roberto Ferraro had returned to Milan, having been granted the management of the Moretti European shipping consortium, finally living in peace knowing Elena’s memory had been honored.

Inside the great room of the lodge, a massive stone fireplace crackled with dry birch logs, filling the room with golden light and comforting warmth.

Emily sat on a thick wool rug, wearing an oversized cream sweater and wool socks. On her lap lay an open sketchbook. Isabella sat beside her, happily dipping a paintbrush into watercolor pans, painting the snowy pine trees visible through the panoramic windows.

Luca entered from the kitchen, carrying two mugs of hot cocoa topped with marshmallows and a fresh cup of espresso for himself.

He set the mugs down and sat behind Emily on the floor, effortlessly wrapping his long legs around hers, pulling her back against his broad chest. Emily leaned into his warmth with a soft sigh of contented bliss, resting her head against his shoulder.

Luca kissed her temple, his arm wrapping securely around her waist.

“Look, Daddy!” Isabella said proudly, holding up her watercolor paper.

In the painting were three figures standing hand-in-hand in front of a grand house: a tall man with black hair, a little girl in a blue dress, and a woman with long dark curls wearing a bright yellow sweater.

Above the three figures, Isabella had painted a radiant golden angel in the sky, watching over them with a gentle smile.

“That’s Mommy,” Isabella explained softly, pointing to the angel. “She’s happy now because she knows Emily is taking care of us.”

A profound, sacred hush filled the room.

Luca’s arm tightened around Emily, his throat working as he swallowed down a wave of pure emotion. He reached out with his other hand, ruffling his daughter’s curls. “It’s the most beautiful painting I have ever seen, Bella mia. We will frame it above the mantel.”

Isabella beamed, then took her hot cocoa and bounded off toward the sunroom to watch the deer grazing near the tree line.

When they were alone by the fire, Luca reached into the pocket of his trousers.

Emily turned her head to look at him, noticing the sudden, nervous intensity in his dark eyes.

“Luca?” she asked, smiling. “What is it?”

Luca shifted, moving off the floor until he was kneeling before her on one knee.

Emily’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart began to race.

From his pocket, Luca pulled a velvet jeweler's box. He flipped it open.

Inside rested a ring that took Emily’s breath away. It was not the cold, flashy, ostentatious emerald-cut diamond he had once given Vanessa. It was a vintage, breathtaking sapphire—the exact color of deep ocean water beneath the midnight sky—surrounded by a delicate halo of brilliant pavé diamonds, set in an antique platinum band engraved with delicate ivy leaves.

“I had this made in Florence three weeks ago,” Luca said, his voice deep, rich, and trembling with an emotion he had never shown to another living soul. “The sapphire represents truth and protection. The ivy represents an unbroken promise.”

He took her left hand in his, his fingers warm and steady.

“Emily Carter, you walked into my broken world when I was blind to the vipers at my table. You showed my daughter what unconditional love looks like. You stood beside me in the dark, and you gave me back my life.”

Luca looked directly into her hazel eyes, his soul bare before her.

“I don't offer you an easy life, Emily. My name carries weight, and the world I walk in is dangerous. But I swear to you, on my life and on my honor, that I will spend every breath I have protecting you, cherishing you, and loving you as my equal, my queen, and my wife.”

Tears of pure, radiant joy spilled over Emily’s cheeks.

“Will you marry me, Emily?” Luca asked softly.

Emily didn't hesitate for a single heartbeat.

“Yes,” she whispered, throwing her arms around his neck. “Yes, Luca! A thousand times, yes!”

Luca let out a triumphant, breathless laugh, sliding the sapphire ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly. He pulled her into his arms, kissing her with an overwhelming passion that banished every ghost of the past into the embers of the hearth.

From the doorway of the sunroom, Isabella stood watching, a huge grin spreading across her face.

“Does this mean Emily is my mom now?” Isabella asked, clapping her hands together.

Luca looked up, keeping his arm firmly around Emily’s waist, smiling with the unburdened joy of a truly happy man.

“Only if Emily says it’s okay, Bella,” Luca answered.

Emily opened her arm, gesturing for the little girl to join them. Isabella leaped across the rug and crashed into their embrace, laughing as Emily kissed both cheeks.