Page 65 of Silent Vows

“Anthony Calabrese paid her a visit,” Antonio reports, his weathered face illuminated by the screens. His tie is loosened, sleeves rolled up—signs he’s been monitoring this situation for hours. “Brought flowers, apologized for his uncle’s actions. Asked her to dinner.”

“And?” I study the footage, noting how Elena’s body language shifts from defensive to interested. Years of reading people let me catalog every tell, every micro-expression.

“She said yes.” Bianca’s voice holds worry. Like this—perched on the edge of a desk, brow furrowed in concentration—she looks so much like me it hurts. “Dad, we can’t let her?—”

“We can’t stop her,” Bella cuts in gently. “She’s an adult, and after what Johnny did…she needs to feel in control of her own choices.”

“But we can protect her,” I add, seeing both women relax slightly. My hand finds Bella’s stomach unconsciously, needing to touch our child. Our future. “Antonio, full surveillance on Anthony Calabrese. I want to know everything—his movements, his contacts, his true position in the family.”

“Already on it, Boss.” Antonio brings up more screens showing Anthony’s recent activities. “He seems genuinely at odds with his grandfather’s old-school methods. Been pushing for legitimate business ventures, modernization.”

“People can seem like a lot of things.” I pull Bella closer, remembering how Sophia had seemed. How she’d played us all. The weight of that deception still haunts me, makes me fear history repeating.

Bianca catches the protective gesture, sharp as ever. Her eyes narrow, tracking between us before settling on where my handrests on Bella’s stomach. In the monitor light, I see the exact moment understanding dawns in her expression—she’s always been too perceptive for her own good, my girl.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” she says suddenly, straightening to her full height. In her silk pajamas and messy ponytail, she looks younger than her seventeen years, but those eyes—so like mine in their intensity—miss nothing. Her voice holds a mixture of hope and uncertainty that makes my chest ache. “What’s going on?”

I meet Bella’s gaze, seeing my own mix of joy and nervousness reflected there. This isn’t how we planned to tell our daughter, but when has anything in our lives gone according to plan? I remember holding Bianca for the first time, promising to always protect her heart. Now I pray she has room in that heart for one more.

“Bianca,” I say softly, “how do you feel about being a big sister?”

She freezes, processing the words. For a long moment, no one breathes. Even Antonio, usually unflappable, looks stunned. I watch emotions play across my daughter’s face—shock, wonder, and something else that makes my throat tight. Something that looks like pure joy.

Then Bianca launches herself at us both, wrapping us in a fierce hug that makes my heart clench. Because this—this is what I’ve always wanted. What I never thought I’d have. A family bound by choice and love, growing stronger with each challenge.

“A baby,” she breathes against my chest, and I hear tears in her voice. Joy radiates from her like light. “Really?”

“Six weeks along,” Bella confirms, her own voice thick with emotion. “I just found out this morning.”

I watch my daughter’s hand join mine over Bella’s stomach, generations of love and protection already surrounding this new life. The sight nearly undoes me. Whatever darkness lurks in mypast, whatever sins stain my soul, I must have done something right to deserve this moment.

This is my redemption—not in blood or violence or power, but in love. In the way Bianca looks at Bella with pure sisterly affection, in how they both lean into my embrace like they know they’re safe there. In the tiny life growing beneath our joined hands, already so loved, so wanted, so protected.

This is my legacy. Not the DeLuca empire, not Giuseppe’s lessons in cruelty, but this. This love. This family. This choice we make every day to be better, to love harder, to protect what matters most.

“Perfect timing,” Antonio observes with a slight smile. “The villa in Tuscany is ready. A few weeks away might be good for all of you.”

I shoot my captain a look for spoiling the surprise, but the joy on both women’s faces is worth it. Still, as I hold my family close, I catch movement on the security screens—Anthony Calabrese’s car pulling away from Elena’s building. A reminder that danger never truly leaves our world.

But for now, in this moment, I let myself feel only gratitude. For my fierce daughter who loves without reservation. For my brave wife who carries our future beneath her heart. For this new life we’ve created together.

Whatever comes next, we’ll face it as one.

As a family.

28

BELLA

Morning sickness, I decide, is cruelly misnamed.

It should be called all-day-and-night-endless-torture sickness. I rinse my mouth in the marble sink of our en suite bathroom, trying to steady myself before the meeting with Matteo’s captains. Six weeks of pregnancy have turned my body into a battlefield—every smell is an assault, every movement a potential trigger. Even the scent of my favorite perfume now makes my stomach roll.

“Here.” Bianca appears in the doorway, offering a cup of peppermint tea. She’s already dressed for the day in a navy blazer and silk blouse, looking every inch the Mafia princess. The concern in her eyes—so like her father’s—makes my heart squeeze. “Maria says it helps.”

“You told Maria?” I accept the tea gratefully, letting the warmth seep into my trembling hands.

“Please,” Bianca snorts. “She knew before any of us.” She perches on the counter, one leg swinging casually. “She says she can always tell. Something about the way expectant mothers glow.”

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