Inside the gala, everything glittered. Glass chandeliers, champagne towers, black velvet tablecloths. The world of Formula One in its most polished, exclusive form.
We were quickly swarmed—teammates, drivers, media, even some executives doing that fake-sincere ‘We always knew!’ routine.
But through it all, I didn’t let go of her. Not once.
Eventually we found a quiet pocket near the back of the ballroom, half-hidden by tall floral arrangements and golden candlelight.
I turned toward her. “You were right, you know.”
“About?”
“You belong here. More than anyone. And not just because you look like a goddess in that dress.”
She laughed softly, “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m serious,” I said, “You’ve built your place in this world on your own terms. I’m so proud of you, Nicola.”
Her face softened then, the walls coming down like they always did when it was just us. I stepped closer, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You make everything better.”
She smiled, blinking slowly like she was trying not to get too emotional.
I stood proudly at Nicola’s side, watching her command the room with effortless grace. There was something about the way she moved through the night—confident, elegant, utterly herself—that had everyone leaning in to listen when she spoke. She made it look easy, even though I knew how much she’d once feared this kind of spotlight. Now? She owned it.
My gaze drifted across the ballroom to where our parents were seated together—mine beside hers, sipping wine, deep in conversation. Nicola caught my eye, and we exchanged a look, eyebrows raised and smirks barely contained. ‘Look at them. They’re actually getting along.’
I made my way to the next table where my sister sat, her arm slung over the back of her chair as if this glamorous gala was just another Tuesday. Before I could even sit down, a glittering blur launched herself into my lap.
“Zio!” Gianna beamed up at me, her arms wrapping tight around my neck. Her dress sparkled under the chandeliers, a tiny tiara askew in her curls.
“Ciao, Stellina,” I said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She smelled like sugar and something vaguely floral—probably the glittery lotion Lucia let her wear for special occasions.
She wriggled, then pulled out a tiny purse and opened it with great ceremony. “Wanna see my lip gloss? It’s very special. Mommy says it’s just chapstick, but Iknowit’s fancy.”
I nodded solemnly. “Extremely fancy. I don’t think I’ve seen anything that sparkly all night.”
She giggled, then looked across the room with a dreamy sigh. “Zia Nicola looks really pretty.”
I followed her gaze. Nicola stood near the stage, laughing at something someone said, her red gown catching the light like fire. She was incandescent.
“She really does,” I murmured, more to myself than to Gia.
Lucia leaned over, sipping from her wine glass, a smug tilt to her lips. “You know, I really couldn’t have planned this better.”
I raised a brow. “Planned what?”
She gestured between Nicola and me with her glass. “You falling for my best friend.”
I rolled my eyes. “First of all, I knew herwaybefore you did. And second of all, you fell formybest friend.”
She laughed, nudging Alexander with her elbow. “Crazy how that worked out, huh?”
“Yeah, you’re welcome for that,” I muttered.
Alexander just smirked, looking far too satisfied for someone who claimed hewasn’ta matchmaker.
And as I sat there with my niece on my lap, my sister smirking at me, and Nicola shining like a flame across the room, I realized something deep in my chest settled. This—all of this—was the life I never knew I needed.
The lights dimmed slightly as Nicola stepped onto the stage, the hum of chatter fading into quiet. She stood tall, radiant beneath the soft spotlight, and the room leaned in. I swore shelooked straight at me before she spoke, like I was her anchor in a sea of eyes.
