Chapter 9 - A Home Built from Ashes
Six months later.
The early summer sun broke warm and bright over the Atlantic Ocean, turning the gray stone facade of Falcone Manor into a radiant golden palace.
The high glass windows were thrown wide open, letting the fresh sea breeze carry the sweet scent of wild roses and ocean salt through the sprawling halls.
In the grand dining room, a long oak table was set for six.
At the head of the table sat Lily, looking healthy, vibrant, and full of life, laughing delightedly as Declan showed her how to carve a roasted turkey using a silver carving knife.
Gabriel sat across from her, wearing a bright blue silk shirt, arguing playfully with her about which pop album was the best of the decade.
At the kitchen island, Maeve stood wearing a comfortable yellow sundress, her dark hair pinned back neatly. She was plating a massive tray of fresh berry tarts, her skin glowing with health and happiness.
A pair of strong arms wrapped gently around her waist from behind.
Roman pulled her back against his chest, resting his chin on her shoulder, his breath warm against her cheek.
"They're eating all the biscuits again," Roman whispered playfully into her ear.
Maeve laughed, turning her head to press a soft kiss to his jawline. "Let them eat. Declan worked twelve hours at the new harbor office today, and Gabriel spent all morning setting up Lily's new school trust."
Roman turned her around in his arms, looking down at her with an intensity of love and devotion that made her heart leap in her chest.
"You look beautiful, Maeve," Roman murmured, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"I look like a woman who doesn't have to work twenty hours a day anymore," Maeve replied, resting her hands against his chest, feeling the steady, strong beat of his heart beneath his linen shirt.
"You never have to work another day in your life," Roman said softly, kissing her lips with gentle, unhurried warmth.
"Good," Maeve teased, pulling back with a mischievous wink. "Because I'm raising your salary starting next week."
Roman threw his head back and laughed—a rich, booming sound that drifted through the open windows and out across the blue ocean, echoing through a house that was no longer a fortress, no longer a tomb, but a sanctuary of warmth, safety, and unbreakable love.
They had warned the broke maid she wouldn't last forty-eight hours with the mafia boss's triplets.
They were right.
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She hadn't just survived forty-eight hours.
She had captured their hearts, conquered their empire, and built a home that would last a lifetime.
