Chapter 11 - THE PANCAKE TRADITION (EPILOGUE)
Two years later.
The kitchen of the Rinaldi estate was a disaster zone, but this time, it was entirely by design.
Flour coated the marble countertops. Sizzling bacon filled the air with a rich, salty scent.
Claire, wearing a diamond on her left hand that caught the morning light and threw rainbows across the walls, flipped a blueberry pancake perfectly into the air.
Mateo caught it on a plate with absolute precision.
“Nice hands, kid,” Claire winked, pouring more batter onto the griddle.
“Mom, Leo is eating all the chocolate chips!” Rosie complained, completely at ease in the massive kitchen, wearing a custom Rinaldi family crest sweater.
“Snitches get fewer pancakes, Rosie!” Leo shot back, his mouth entirely covered in chocolate.
Julian walked into the kitchen, wearing a bespoke suit, looking every inch the terrifying corporate and underworld king he was. But the moment he saw his family, the coldness vanished. He walked straight up behind Claire, wrapping his arms around her waist, mindful of the slight curve of her new, five-month pregnant belly.
He kissed the side of her neck, inhaling the scent of vanilla and flour.
“Is this mutiny, or breakfast?” Julian murmured, resting his hands over her stomach.
“Both,” Claire smiled, leaning back against his chest. “The kids are demanding a ransom of extra syrup.”
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Julian laughed, a rich, warm sound that filled the kitchen. He looked around at the chaos. His sons were smiling, Rosie was laughing, and the woman who had walked in with eleven dollars to her name had given him a life richer than all the billions in his bank accounts.
He was the boss of the city. But standing in this kitchen, holding his wife, Julian Rinaldi knew perfectly well who truly ruled the empire.
