Page 134 of Beauty and the Daddy
His face crumples.
"But," I continue, leaning forward, my voice low and hard. "I know why you did it. You were desperate. A father with no power, no money, no options. And desperation makes men reckless." I glance at Belle, her hand trembling in mine. "You tried to save her from this life. Now I'll save her in it."
The words hang there, sharp and heavy.
He blinks, tears spilling, then nods once. "Thank you," he whispers. "God bless you for loving her."
We shake hands. His grip trembles in mine.
It isn't trust yet. It isn't forgiveness. But it's something.
Belle turns, pulling away just enough to face him fully.
She wipes her cheeks, her chin lifting with that fire I've always loved. "You better not fail this baby," she tells him, her voice steady despite the tears. "You missed too much already. Don't you dare miss this."
For a moment, he looks gutted. Then the hope floods in, bright and unsteady. "I won't," he swears, shaking his head. "I swear it."
She sniffles, then smiles through the mess of it all. "Then stay for dinner."
The relief on his face nearly drops him to his knees.
His shoulders sag, his chest rises on a shaky exhale, and for the first time since stepping onto my estate, he looks less like a ghost.
We sit at the long dining table. The air's still heavy, but lighter than before.
Belle's father dabs at his eyes with his napkin every five seconds.
Sofia chatters about school and Meatball's latest crimes.
Bruno lies under the table, loyal and quiet. Belle glows, even with her eyes still red.
For one perfect moment, we're just a family sharing dinner. Normal. Peaceful.
Then Belle's fork hits her plate with a sharp clink.
Her eyes go wide, hand flying to her belly as she looks down at the chair beneath her.
When she looks back up, her face is equal parts panic and wonder.
"Luca," she breathes. "My water just broke."
The dining room explodes into controlled chaos—chairs scraping, voices overlapping, my heart forgetting how to beat as I watch the woman I love prepare to bring our child into the world.
EPILOGUE
BELLE
The Moretti estate has been transformed into something from a fever dream—if fever dreams involved unlimited budgets and a man determined to give his bride a day worthy of fairy tales.
White roses cascade from every stone arch like waterfalls of silk.
Thousands of candles turn the gardens into a constellation brought to earth.
Crystal catches light and throws it back in rainbow fragments across tables laden with champagne and possibility.
It's obscene and gorgeous and so perfectly Luca—equal parts cathedral and coronation, sacred and dangerous.
And somehow, it's my wedding.
