Hours before I was supposed to propose to another woman, four six-year-old boys walked into a restaurant bathroom looking so much like me that even I, the man who ran one of Boston’s most powerful crime families, couldn’t move. Then I heard their mother’s voice outside the door, the voice of the woman I had loved six years earlier, and suddenly the engagement ring in my pocket meant nothing.

Six months later. Spring.

The morning sun cast a bright, golden light across the fifty-acre oceanfront estate in Cape Cod that I had purchased under Clara's name three months after Anthony was flown to Sicily.

The air was fresh and salt-scented, filled with the cheerful sound of waves crashing against the private beach below and the loud, happy screams of four young boys playing near the water.

Leo, Julian, Mateo, and Lucas were running across the green lawn, chasing our new German Shepherd puppy, their bright, carefree laughter ringing out under the open blue sky.

Standing on the wide wooden porch overlooking the ocean was Clara. She wore a simple white linen dress, her hair blowing gently in the sea breeze, holding a cup of fresh coffee.

I stepped up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist, pulling her back against my chest, resting my chin gently on her shoulder.

"What are you thinking about, Mrs. Moretti?" I whispered into her hair.

Clara smiled, leaning back against me, her hand resting over mine. "I was thinking about six years ago in Vermont. How I used to stay up until three in the morning, worrying about how I was going to buy four pairs of winter boots on an administrative salary."

I kissed the side of her neck softly. "And now?"

"And now," Clara murmured, turning in my arms to look me in the eyes, "I'm looking at a man who built a fortress around us so my sons will never have to know what fear feels like."

The syndicate in Boston had transformed under my leadership.

The old, violent territory wars were a thing of the past. The Moretti family had transitioned sixty percent of its capital into legitimate shipping, real estate, and international logistics operations, completely insulating our future from federal scrutiny.

The Barrett family had been dismantled by the federal indictment I had quietly facilitated, leaving our territory completely peaceful and secure.

"Daddy! Look!" Leo screamed from the lawn, holding up a giant colorful kite shaped like a eagle. "Uncle Marco helped us get it in the air!"

I looked over at the lawn. Marco—the hardened mob enforcer who had spent twenty years handling syndicate threats—was currently running across the grass in his dress shoes, holding the string of a kite, laughing hysterically with my four sons.