Chapter 6 - The Sunny Afternoon
Seven years later.
October in Boston was breathtaking. The trees along the drive of the Moretti estate had turned into brilliant canopy of gold, amber, and deep scarlet.
The iron gates were open to the crisp autumn air.
In the sunlit courtyard behind the main house, a large wooden table was set for an afternoon autumn lunch. Fresh apple cider, roasted meats, homemade bread, and warm cinnamon pastries covered the linen tablecloth.
Sitting at the head of the table was Adrian Moretti, looking distinguished with silver hair at his temples, laughing as he spoke with Dante Russo and Dr. Reynolds about dock investments.
Managing the event with effortless grace, wearing an elegant cream-colored wool dress and holding a clipboard, was Elena Castillo—now the respected Head of Estate Management for the entire Moretti holding firm.
And running across the sprawling green lawn, her long dark hair flowing in the wind, was twelve-year-old Sophia.
She was laughing, clutching a brand-new yellow notebook under her arm, chasing a gray-and-black dog who was moving a little slower these days, his snout dusted with white fur around his lips.
Titan was twelve years old now—an old age for a Cane Corso—but his eyes were still bright, his spirit fierce, and his loyalty absolute.
"Titan! Catch!" Sophia called out, tossing a soft rubber ball across the grass.
The old dog jogged steadily after it, catching it gently in his jaws before trotting back to her, nudging his broad head against her waist to receive his reward: a soft, golden oatmeal cookie she pulled from her pocket.
Adrian watched the scene from the head of the table, sipping his tea, a deep, serene peace resting in his heart.
He looked at Elena, who walked over to stand beside his chair, handing him an updated file for the afternoon shipments.
"He's getting slow," Adrian noted softly, looking at Titan.
"He's getting spoiled," Elena corrected with a warm laugh. "Thanks to you."
"Thanks to her," Adrian replied, gesturing toward Sophia, who was currently sitting cross-legged on the lawn, leaning her back against Titan’s warm, massive flank as she drew in her notebook, humming a sweet, tuneless melody.
May you like
The scent of lemon polish drifted faintly from the open French doors of the mansion, mingling with the crisp smell of fallen leaves and warm cinnamon pastries.
The house of violence, blood, and fear had finally found its soul—guarded not by iron gates or submachine guns, but by the quiet love of a little girl, a devoted mother, and a faithful beast who had decided that kindness was worth changing every rule for.
