Chương 10 - A New Dawn
Three months later.
The spring sun shone bright and warm over the leafy suburban neighborhood of Evanston, Illinois.
The old Linwood family estate—a beautiful two-story Victorian house with a wraparound porch and white-trimmed windows—looked entirely renewed. The overgrown lawn had been freshly manicured, the gardens filled with blooming yellow tulips, and the heavy oak front door repainted in a warm mahogany stain.
I stood on the porch, holding a cup of hot coffee, watching Sophia run across the soft green grass, chasing a golden retriever puppy we had adopted two weeks ago.
Her joyful, ringing laughter filled the crisp morning air—a sound that made every struggle, every tear, and every scar worth enduring.
A sleek black sedan pulled up the gravel driveway, coming to a smooth stop beside my car.
The driver's side door opened, and Vincent Moretti stepped out.
He wasn't wearing his tactical vest or carrying a gun. He wore a crisp white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, dark denim jeans, and aviator sunglasses. He looked younger, relaxed, and entirely different from the terrifying mafia don who had found me bleeding on his kitchen floor six months ago.
"Mama! It's Vincent!" Sophia shouted, abandoning her puppy and sprinting across the lawn toward him.
Vincent caught her smoothly in his arms, swinging her high up into the air as she squealed with delight, before placing her gently on his hip.
"Hey there, little princess," Vincent smiled, tapping her nose playfully. "Did you save any breakfast for me?"
"We made pancakes!" Sophia declared proudly, pointing toward the house.
Vincent walked up the porch steps toward me, his hazel eyes locking onto mine with an unhidden warmth that made my heart flutter in my chest.
"Good morning, Maya," he said smoothly.
"Good morning, Don Vincent," I teased, taking a sip of my coffee.
He winced jokingly. "Please, no formal titles on a Sunday. I'm off the clock."
Julian Vance had been sentenced two weeks prior to forty-five years in federal prison without the possibility of parole. Marcus Drake's criminal network had been completely dismantled, and Linwood Shipping was once again operating legally, generating millions under a professional management team I had hired with Vincent's guidance.
My father's name was cleared. My life was finally my own.
"How are the hands?" Vincent asked, setting Sophia down so she could run back to her puppy. He reached out, gently taking my left hand in his.
The bandages were long gone. The scars remained—thin white lines across my knuckles and the faded shadow of the burn on my wrist. But they no longer felt like a mark of shame or pain. They felt like armor.
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"They don't hurt anymore," I said softly, looking up into his eyes. "Thanks to you."
"You did the hard part, Maya," Vincent said, his voice dropping into a tender whisper. "You survived."
