Chapter 9 - The Promise Kept
That evening, the Duca estate was filled with a sound it hadn't heard in a generation: the sound of a child running down the marble hallways, her laughter echoing against the crystal chandeliers.
The unfinished nursery at the end of the east hallway had been repainted in warm, soft shades of cream and sage green. New toys filled the shelves, and a brand-new crib stood ready beneath a sky of painted stars.
Clara Bennett stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching as Lorenzo sat at the large dining table, helping Emma color inside the lines of a brand-new drawing book.
“You don't have to keep playing the part of the borrowed daddy, Mr. Duca,” Clara said softly, a gentle smile gracing her lips. “The festival ended weeks ago.”
Lorenzo looked up from the coloring book, a blue crayon clutched awkwardly in his large fingers. He looked at Emma, who was laughing as she corrected his technique, and then out the tall windows toward the courtyard where the autumn leaves were falling softly against the grass.
He reached into his vest pocket.
The brass key to the past was still there. But he didn't pull it out. Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the folded invitation from St. Cecilia Elementary School, smoothing it out flat beside the coloring book.
“It wasn't a temporary arrangement, Clara,” Lorenzo said, his voice warm, steady, and entirely at peace. “A promise made to a child is the only contract in this world that actually matters.”
Emma looked up, her brown eyes sparkling with mischief and absolute certainty. “Does that mean you’re staying for dinner too, Daddy?”
Lorenzo Duca—billionaire, former head of the underworld, and now a father in more than just name—smiled, picked up his red crayon, and began to color.
May you like
“For as long as you’ll have me,” he said.
And for the first time in fifteen years, the great house on the Hudson River was finally, truly, filled with light.
