Chapter 5 - The South Riverfront
Three months later.
The icy winter winds of February had surrendered to the warm, golden sun of early May.
Along Pittsburgh’s south riverfront, the old Monongahela Freight Depot was gone. In its place stood a sprawling, three-story brick structure surrounded by green lawns, young birch trees, and glass-fronted offices overlooking the sparkling river.
A large brass plaque sat near the main stone entrance: THE CALLAHAN & MORETTI LOGISTICS & COMMUNITY CENTER.
Inside the sunlit main lobby, a crowd of two hundred people had gathered—local business leaders, union dockworkers, city council members, and reporters from the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.
Maeve stood near the ribbon-cutting podium.
She wore a tailored cream-colored linen suit that fitted her full curves flawlessly, her auburn hair styled in soft, shining curls that framed her radiant face. She wore a simple gold necklace—a gift from Ronan—bearing an engraved crest of an anchor and an oak leaf.
Beside her stood Ronan Moretti.
He wore a bespoke dark blue suit that broad shoulders filled impeccably. He didn't hide the left side of his face. He stood tall, his head held high, his right arm wrapped securely around Maeve’s waist.
The city had changed its mind about Ronan Moretti.
When news broke that Ronan and Maeve had personally funded the rehabilitation of the south riverfront—creating three hundred union jobs and establishing a permanent pension fund for the families of the 2021 fire victims—the "scarred monster of Pittsburgh" became the city’s most celebrated developer.
Preston Hale had been sentenced two weeks prior to twenty-two years in a federal penitentiary without possibility of parole. Amelia Vance’s family had quietly liquidated their sports arena shares and fled to Florida to avoid the social fallout.
The mayor of Pittsburgh stepped up to the podium, delivering a warm, passionate speech about justice, resilience, and community restoration.
"And now," the mayor smiled, turning to Maeve and Ronan, "I hand the scissors to the two people who made this dream possible: Maeve Callahan-Moretti and Ronan Moretti!"
The crowd erupted into thunderous applause!
Maeve smiled, taking the large golden scissors, her hand joining Ronan’s over the handles.
Together, they cut the thick red ribbon!
FLASH! FLASH! FLASH!
News cameras flashed across the sunlit lobby as workers cheered, throwing blue paper streamers into the air!
As the crowd moved toward the champagne tables, Ronan leaned down, his deep voice whispering in Maeve’s ear.
"Callahan-Moretti has a nice ring to it, Mrs. Moretti," Ronan murmured, his hand gently squeezing her hip.
Maeve laughed—a rich, joyous sound that echoed through the brick hall—and looked up into his dark eye.
May you like
"We signed the marriage certificate three weeks ago in Hawaii, Ronan," she teased gently. "You don't have to keep flirting with me to get my vote."
"I intend to flirt with you for the next fifty years, Maeve," Ronan replied smoothly, leaning down to press a soft kiss against her lips in front of all fifty news cameras, not caring for a single second who was watching.
