Chapter 9 - A LAMP LEFT BURNING
The morning sun broke through the towering windows of the Romano estate, casting long, golden beams across the polished marble floors.
It had been three days since the night of the fire.
The estate had been scrubbed clean. The traitorous guards had been handed over to the FBI, along with the lockbox full of evidence that would dismantle the Carlton family empire forever. The news of Vanessa’s death and her family’s corruption was dominating every headline in the country.
But inside the mansion, there was only peace.
I stood in the doorway of the grand dining room, holding a cup of coffee. I was wearing a soft cashmere sweater and comfortable jeans—clothes Vincent had quietly arranged for a stylist to bring me.
At the head of the massive dining table sat Matteo. He was laughing, a deep, joyful sound I hadn’t heard since I was a child.
Beside him sat Vincent, wearing a simple black t-shirt that showed off his tattooed arms, looking more relaxed than any billionaire had a right to be.
And sitting between them, eating a massive stack of chocolate chip pancakes, was Grace.
“And then,” Grace said between bites, pointing her syrup-covered fork at Vincent, “Mr. Vincent kicked the bad guy so hard he fell down like a bowling pin!”
Vincent chuckled, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I think you’re exaggerating, little bird.”
“I am not!” she insisted. “Grandpa saw it!”
“She’s telling the truth,” Matteo smiled, sipping his espresso. “You’ve got a good swing, kid.”
I watched them, my heart swelling until I thought it might burst. For eight years, I had scraped by, looking over my shoulder, working double shifts just to keep the heat on. I had lived in constant fear that I wasn't enough to protect my daughter.
Now, she was sitting at a table surrounded by two of the most powerful, fiercely protective men in the world, and she belonged there.
Vincent looked up and caught me staring.
His dark eyes instantly warmed. He stood up from the table and walked over to me in the doorway.
“Good morning,” he said softly, standing close enough that I could smell his clean, citrus-scented soap.
“Good morning,” I smiled, looking up at him. “You look like you actually slept.”
“For the first time in years,” he admitted. He reached out and gently took my free hand, his thumb tracing the knuckles. “My father called this morning. From Montana.”
My breath hitched. “How is he?”
“He’s coming home, Hannah. Next week.” Vincent’s smile was stunning, transforming his rugged face completely. “He wants to meet you. And he wants to properly welcome Matteo back into the family.”
“I’m so glad, Vincent. Truly.”
Vincent looked at me, his expression turning serious.
“I’ve had the lawyers draw up the papers,” he said quietly. “Giuseppe’s trust. Half of the Romano empire legally belonged to Matteo. It’s being transferred back to him today. Which means, eventually, it belongs to you and Grace.”
I shook my head immediately, trying to pull my hand back. “Vincent, I don’t want your money. I never came here for that.”
He didn't let go of my hand. Instead, he pulled me a fraction closer.
“I know you didn't,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, magnetic whisper. “But it’s yours. You are Romano family, Hannah. You belong here. With us. With me.”
I looked into his eyes, seeing the raw vulnerability hiding behind his powerful exterior. He wasn't asking me to stay because of duty or guilt. He was asking because he wanted me.
“I don't know how to be part of this world,” I whispered.
“You don't have to be part of the world,” Vincent replied, leaning down so his forehead rested gently against mine. “Just be part of my life.”
I closed my eyes, letting out a breath I felt like I had been holding for eight years.
“Okay,” I breathed.
Vincent pulled back just enough to kiss me. It was soft, hesitant, and incredibly sweet—a promise sealed without a single word.
“Ew!”
We broke apart to see Grace standing in the hallway, holding a half-eaten pancake and wrinkling her nose.
Vincent laughed, a deep, booming sound that echoed through the halls. He scooped Grace up into his arms, tossing her gently into the air, making her shriek with giggles.
Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, I walked Grace up the grand staircase to her new bedroom. It was massive, painted a soft pink, with a bed big enough for a princess.
I tucked her in, kissing her forehead.
“Goodnight, my sweet girl.”
“Night, Mommy,” she murmured, her eyes already closing.
As I walked toward the door, I reached for the light switch.
“Mommy?” Grace mumbled.
“Yes, baby?”
“Leave the lamp on.”
I paused, looking over at the small, beautiful Tiffany lamp sitting on her nightstand.
“Because a Romano never leaves family in the dark,” I whispered to myself.
May you like
I clicked off the overhead lights, leaving the small lamp glowing warmly in the corner.
I stepped out into the hallway. Vincent was leaning against the wall, waiting for me. He reached out, lacing his fingers through mine, and together, we walked down the hall, leaving the darkness behind us for good.
