Chapter 5 - THE CHOICE IN THE GARDEN
Three months later.
Winter had blanketed the grounds of the Alpine estate in a thick, pristine sheet of glittering white snow. The frozen Hudson River below looked like a mirror reflecting the bright, crisp afternoon sun.
I sat inside the heated glass conservatory on the east side of the mansion, surrounded by blooming white orchids, lush tropical ferns, and the sweet scent of citrus trees.
My stomach was now visibly rounded beneath a soft, cream-colored wool maternity dress. At five months pregnant, the baby was kicking regularly—a strong, energetic life that filled my heart with an overwhelming sense of joy and purpose.
The heavy glass doors of the conservatory pushed open quietly.
Dante stepped inside. He had removed his suit jacket, wearing a dark navy cashmere sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his forearms, revealing the pale combat scars on his skin. He carried a silver tray with fresh mint tea and warm strawberry tarts prepared by the estate chef.
"You should be resting," Dante said softly, setting the tray on the marble table beside my chaise lounge.
"I resting," I smiled, leaning back against the plush pillows. "The baby likes the sunlight in here. Every time I come to the conservatory, he starts doing gymnastics."
Dante’s eyes softened instantly—a transformation that still amazed me every time I saw it. The feared mafia boss who ruled New York's shadows dissolved into a gentle, endlessly attentive man whenever he stepped into my presence.
He sat down on the edge of the stone bench beside me. Slowly, with hesitant respect, he reached out his hand.
"May I?" he asked quietly.
"Always," I whispered.
Dante laid his broad, warm palm over the swell of my stomach.
A second later, the baby kicked hard, pushing directly against Dante's hand.
Dante’s breath caught in his throat. His amber eyes went wide with awe, a genuine, brilliant smile breaking across his handsome face—a smile so pure, so filled with unadulterated wonder, that it made my heart flutter wildly in my chest.
"He's strong," Dante murmured, his thumb gently caressing the fabric over my belly. "Like his mother."
"He's safe," I corrected gently, reaching over to place my hand over his. "Because of you."
Dante looked up, meeting my eyes through the bright sunlight streaming through the glass roof. The dark shadows of his past, the violence of his world, seemed miles away, kept at bay by the warmth of the room we shared.
"I have something for you, Eliza," Dante said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a thick manila envelope. He laid it on my lap.
I looked down at it. "What is this?"
"Your freedom," Dante answered simply.
My fingers froze on the string clasp.
"Inside that envelope," Dante explained, his voice low, steady, but carrying a faint trace of tightness, "are the deeds to a private estate in Vermont, a clean legal identity verified by federal authorities, a trust fund account containing ten million dollars under your name alone, and tickets for a private flight tomorrow morning."
I stared at the envelope, my throat feeling suddenly dry.
"The Moretti family is completely dismantled," Dante continued, looking out at the snow-covered river. "Julian's records have been permanently destroyed. There are no threats left, Eliza. No one is hunting you. No one knows where you are. You can leave tomorrow. You can raise your child in peace, far away from me, far away from the blood and shadows of my life."
Silence stretched between us in the warm conservatory, heavy and suffocating.
I looked at the envelope containing everything a terrified paralegal in Queens had wished for four months ago—safety, wealth, independence, and a life without fear.
Then I looked at Dante Castellano—the man who had wrapped his coat around my shivering shoulders on a rainy night, who had built a fortress to protect my child, who had held my hand during every ultrasound, and who looked at me not as collateral, but as the center of his world.
I picked up the envelope.
Without opening it, I turned around and tossed it into the small stone fireplace burning in the corner of the conservatory.
The paper caught fire instantly, curling into black ash amidst the orange flames.
Dante stood up violently, his amber eyes wide with utter shock. "Eliza! What are you doing?!"
I stood up slowly, stepping close to him, wrapping my arms around his broad waist, pressing my cheek against his chest, listening to the rapid, heavy pounding of his heart.
"Four months ago, a man told me I was just bait," I whispered against his chest. "He told me no one would ever love me or protect my child. But then I met a man who proved him wrong every single day."
I pulled back slightly, looking up into his burning amber eyes.
"I don't want Vermont, Dante," I said, my voice ringing clear and unbreakable through the sunlit conservatory. "I don't want a quiet life under a fake name. I want to stay here. With you. As your wife. And I want this child to know that his father is the bravest, most noble man in this city."
May you like
Dante froze. A single, ragged breath escaped his lips as he processed my words.
Then, with a low, fierce groan of pure, unadulterated emotion, he pulled me into his arms, lifting me off my feet, pressing his lips against mine in a deep, desperate, passionate kiss that sealed our souls together forever.
