One year later.
The late afternoon sun streamed through the large windows of the Zurich apartment, warming the polished wooden floor. Sophia Moretti stood by the window, looking down at the bustling city street below, a world away from the glacial pass and the
Moretti mansion.
In her arms, nestled against a soft cashmere sweater, slept a baby boy with a shock of dark hair, his tiny fist curled trustingly against her chest. Matteo Moretti. Eight pounds of perfect, demanding miracle.
Her year in Switzerland had been transformative. The research project had been completed successfully, her work published in a prestigious journal. She’d found camaraderie and respect among her colleagues, particularly Eric, who had become a steadfast friend. And she’d become a mother, navigating the terrifying, exhilarating journey largely on her own terms.
The apartment door opened quietly. James stepped in, shedding a light spring coat. He moved with a new kind of quietness, an attentiveness that had become ingrained over the past year.
His gaze went immediately to Sophia and the baby, a softness transforming his usually stern features. He crossed the room silently, careful not to wake Matteo. He placed a gentle kiss on Sophia’s temple, then bent to brush his lips against his son’s downy head.
“It’s time?” Sophia asked softly, her voice filled with a calm certainty that hadn’t been there a year ago.
James nodded. “The jet’s ready whenever you are.” He didn’t say “home.” That word held too many complicated layers. He simply held out his hand, palm up, an invitation, not a demand. “Michael has everything prepared. The penthouse… it’s different now. Yours.”
Sophia looked from his hand to his face, then down at Matteo. The journey back wasn’t about returning to the past. It was about stepping into a future she was now shaping, with a man who had spent a year proving his change wasn’t just another
performance. He’d been present. He’d respected her boundaries. He’d learned to listen. He’d supported her work without trying to control it. He’d been, simply, there for Matteo and for her, in the quiet, necessary ways.
The arrogant mafia heir had been humbled, replaced by a man deeply aware of the cost of his mistakes and fiercely determined to build something real.
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Chapter 11
+15 Bonus
She shifted Matteo slightly, then placed her hand in James’s. His fingers closed around hers, warm and sure, the scars from the avalanche faint silvery lines against his skin permanent reminders.
“It’s time,” she agreed.
As for Vicky Rossi? Facing social ruin and realizing James Moretti was utterly lost to her, she had quietly reconciled with her French ex-husband. By the time Matteo was born, she had already returned to Paris, a closed chapter fading into the distant
past.
James picked up Sophia’s meticulously packed research notes and the carry-cot containing a still-sleeping Matteo. Sophia shouldered her laptop bag.
Together, they walked out of the Zurich apartment. Sophia didn’t look back. She looked ahead, towards a future she was choosing, holding the hand of a man who had finally learned to see her, carrying the tangible proof of their scarred, complicated, but undeniably changed story.
The divorce papers were filed away, relics of a painful ending that had, against all odds, paved the way for a hesitant, hard-won beginning.
