That evening, Sofia, Livia, Alessio, and I gathered in my hospital room.
Agent Rodriguez appeared with final confirmation.
"Marco DeLuca is deceased. Three associates in custody, one deceased. His remaining organization is being rounded up—twelve arrests in six hours." She paused. "It's over. You're free to resume normal life with standard security precautions."
Free.
"What about the person helping him from inside?" Alessio asked.
"Federal prosecutor Diana Marsh. Arrested this morning, confessed to everything. She'd been on Marco's payroll for eight years—feeding him information, burying evidence, helping coordinate both escapes." Rodriguez's expression held grim satisfaction. "Her cooperation is shutting down the last pieces of Marco's network." Rodriguez's expression softened. "You're safe. Your children are safe. Marco can't hurt anyone again."
We sat in silence, processing.
"I should feel relieved," I said. "Why don't I?"
"Because grief is complicated," Sofia said gently. "He was a monster, but he was also your father. You're allowed to feel complicated things."
"I'm glad he's gone. Glad our babies will never know him. But I'm also sad—for what could have been. For the father I deserved but never had."
"Both things can be true," Livia said quietly.
I reached for her hand. "Sisters."
"Sisters," she agreed. "We survived him."
Alessio's arm came around my shoulders. "And now you decide what comes next. Not him. You."
What comes next? The phrase felt different now—full of possibility instead of threat.
"I want to see my babies," I said. "Hold them properly. Not stolen minutes—actual time. As their mother. In peace."
"Then that's what we'll do," Alessio said.
They let us stay in the NICU for two hours that night.
Nurse Sarah helped me position both babies—Ezio in my left arm, Eva in my right, with skin-to-skin contact. Their tiny bodies rested against my chest, feeling my heartbeat, my warmth.
"Hi, my loves," I whispered, tears streaming. "I'm so sorry you had to be alone. But I'm here now. And I'm never leaving again."
Ezio nuzzled against me, making contented sounds. Eva's little hand curled against my skin. Trusting. Safe. Home.
Alessio knelt beside us, his hand on my shoulder.
"We made them," he said softly. "Against impossible odds."
"We did." I looked up at him. "And now we get to raise them. In peace. Everything we fought for."
He kissed my forehead. "Everything we fought for."
Sofia and Livia watched from the doorway, both crying.
"My daughter is a mother," Sofia said. "And her babies are fighters."
"Like all of us," Livia added. "DeLuca women survive."
The next week passed in a blur of hospital visits, discharge paperwork, and the slow work of healing—my body from surgery, my heart from everything else.
We rented a small house outside Bozeman. With Marco dead and his network dismantled, the FBI had cleared us to leave protective custody. Sofia helped furnish the nursery. Livia hung welcome banners in every room.
