“Come in, come in.” My father rises from his chair.
Gabriella looks from me to him. “Is everything okay?”
"It's time," my father announces without preamble. "Luca will assume leadership of our family operations next week. We'll gather the captains in the next few days for the formal transition."
Gabriella's eyes widen, darting between us. "Are you sure?"
I glare at her for questioning this when she’s been pushing me to do it for over a year.
"More certain than I've been about anything in months," he replies with a wry smile. "My mind is still my own today, and I'm using it to make this decision while I can."
Marco steps forward. "Antonio, your leadership has been the foundation of La Corona’s strength for decades. The respect you've earned cannot be measured. Speaking personally, I wouldn’t be the man I am today without your support and guidance."
My father nods, accepting the tribute with dignity. "And now that strength passes to my son with my full confidence."
He motions to his chair. “It’s all yours.”
Pride swells in my chest at his words. Even in stepping down, he remains powerful.
We spend the afternoon together planning the ritual transfer for the men, while sharing stories from the past.
My father recalls business triumphs and family celebrations, his memory mostly clear.
Gabriella sits next to Dad who holds Sabina, fully embracing being a grandfather.
Marco watches, his love for his wife and my father evident.
Watching them, I feel an unfamiliar lightness.
For the first time in years, I'm not running from my past or fighting against my future. I'm exactly where I'm meant to be.
Only one thing is missing. Elena.
I imagine her here beside me, her hand in mine as we navigate this new chapter together.
The kids running through the halls of this house, filling it with laughter.
More than ever, I want her to be part of this world I'm inheriting.
ELENA
I glance at the clock.
The triplets will be hungry soon, their late-afternoon energy already causing a ruckus in the living room.
Rocco's building something with blocks while Elio and Adalina argue over which Christmas movie to watch first.
I’m about to put a pot of water on to boil pasta when the doorbell rings.
“Mommy! Door!” Rocco bellows through the house.
“Coming.” I walk through the living area, noting that it looks like a tornado hit it.
When I pull open the door, my heart stutters.
Luca stands there with three pizza boxes balanced in one hand, his smile both hesitant and determined.
“I come bearing pizza.”
