Chapter 11 - THE LIGHT IN THE GLASS
Three years later.
The foot traffic parted around the sound of laughter outside a prestigious private school in Manhattan. The autumn sun reflected warmly off the glass of the nearby towers.
Dominic stood by the curb, wearing a charcoal gray suit, looking completely at ease. He didn't need ten guards surrounding him anymore; Marco stood quietly a few paces away, smiling. The threat of war was a distant memory.
The school doors opened, and a nine-year-old girl with chestnut hair and bright, intelligent eyes came running out. She wore a pristine uniform and carried a backpack covered in pins.
"Dad!" Isabella shouted, launching herself into his arms.
Dominic caught her, swinging her around, his deep laughter echoing over the noise of the city street. The cold, lifeless eyes of the mafia boss were gone, replaced by the warmth of a man who had found his soul.
"How was school, piccolina?" he asked, setting her down and taking her hand.
"I got an A on my history project," she beamed. "And I told them my dad is a builder. You build the biggest towers in the city."
"That I do," Dominic smiled, looking up at the skyline he owned, a skyline clean of the blood that used to stain it.
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They walked toward the waiting car, hand in hand. The city rushed around them, nine million lives moving at once, but in Dominic Moretti's world, there was only one life that mattered. He had been a king of the dark, a monster in the shadows, but as Isabella squeezed his hand and babbled about her day, he knew the truth.
He wasn't a boss anymore. He was just a father, and that was the greatest title he would ever hold.
