"And you love him?"
The question should be complicated. It should require explanation, context, a detailed account of everything that's happened since Mrs.Hewson shoved me into that wedding dress. Instead, the answer rises simple and certain from somewhere beneath my ribs.
"Yes."
Tommy studies me for a long moment, and I watch him see what Alessandro sees—not the servant girl who scrubbed floors, not the terrified bride who trembled at the altar, but whoever I've become in the space between those versions of myself. Someone who chose darkness and found light within it.
"You look different," he finally says. "Not bad different. Just… you look like someone who isn't afraid anymore."
The observation hits harder than I expect. I think of all the nights I spent invisible, all the years I spent small, all the ways I learned to disappear so that people like the Hewsons wouldn't notice me. Tommy saw it even then—the fear that lived in my bones like a second skeleton.
"I'm not," I admit. "Not of the things that used to scare me, anyway."
Alessandro approaches then, his footsteps deliberate on the gravel. He stops at a respectful distance, hands visible, posture open in a way I've never seen him adopt with anyone outside our family. He's trying not to seem threatening. For Tommy. For me.
"Mr.Pitt." Alessandro's voice carries none of its usual edge. "I'm Alessandro Rosetti. Your sister has told me a great deal about you."
Tommy's jaw tightens, protective instincts warring with the reality of our situation. "And I've heard a great deal about you. None of it good."
"Most of it's probably accurate." Alessandro doesn't flinch from the assessment. "I won't pretend to be something I'm not. But I can tell you this: your sister is the most important person in my world. Her safety, her happiness, her freedom—I would burn Chicago to the ground for any of them."
"Freedom." Tommy's laugh holds no humor. "That's rich, coming from the man who married her under false pretenses."
"Tommy—" I start, but Alessandro holds up a hand.
"He's right to be suspicious." His eyes meet mine briefly before returning to my brother. "Which is why I gave Emma everything she needed to leave. Money, documents, protection. She could have disappeared, waited for your release somewhere I'd never find her. She chose to come back."
Tommy looks at me, question clear in his expression.
"I chose him," I confirm. "Not because I had to. Because I wanted to. Because whoever I am now—whoever I'm becoming—that person exists because of him."
The silence stretches, filled with birdsong and distant traffic and the weight of everything we've survived to reach this moment. Finally, Tommy exhales, tension draining from his shoulders.
"Okay," he says quietly. "Okay. If you chose this, Em, then I trust you." His gaze sharpens on Alessandro. "But if you ever hurt her—"
"Then you'll have to get in line," Alessandro interrupts, something almost like respect in his voice. "Behind Sofia, Marco, Dante, Nico, Luca, and approximately forty armed guards who've adopted her as their favorite Rosetti. Your sister inspires loyalty."
Tommy blinks, clearly thrown by the response. Then, impossibly, he laughs. A real laugh, rusty from disuse but genuine. "Jesus, Em. Only you could fall into a mafia marriage and end up running the place."
"I don't run anything," I protest, but Alessandro's hand finds mine, his thumb tracing the wedding band that no longer feels like a shackle.
"Give her time," he says, and the promise in his voice makes my pulse quicken.
We drive Tommy to his new apartment—a place Alessandro arranged weeks ago, in a building with excellent security and no connection to either the Rosettis or the Hewsons. He'll havespace to recover, to rebuild, to figure out who he wants to become now that survival isn't his only option.
At the door, Tommy hugs me again, gentler this time.
"The stars are different inside," he murmurs against my hair. "Couldn't see them at all most nights. I used to close my eyes and try to remember where Orion was, where the Pleiades would be. Kept me sane."
Tears burn my eyes. "I'll buy you a telescope. A real one. We can watch the Perseids together next summer."
"I'd like that." He pulls back, studies my face one more time. "You really are different, Em. Stronger. Scarier, maybe." A ghost of his old grin surfaces. "But still my sister. Still the girl who showed me the Hunter when I couldn't sleep."
"Always," I promise.
He disappears inside, and I let myself cry properly for the first time in months. Alessandro doesn't speak, just pulls me against his chest and holds me while I shake apart and slowly, painfully, put myself back together.
That night, we marry again.
