Week three, Domenico visited.
I heard his car pull up the gravel drive and met him at the door before he could knock—old habits dying hard, even in peacetime.
He showed up carrying a gift bag and wearing that expression that meant either very good news or very bad.
I met him at the door. "What's wrong?" I asked immediately, still on alert.
"Nothing's wrong. Relax, fratello." He held up the bag. "I brought more presents for my godchildren. They grow so fast—the first stuff already doesn't fit."
"You were here two weeks ago."
"And I'll be here two weeks from now. Get used to it." He followed me inside and crossed to where the twins were having tummy time on a blanket. "Look at them! They got even bigger."
"Eight pounds for Ezio. Seven pounds, one ounce for Eva." Pride filled my voice. "Doctor says they're catching up developmentally fast. Eva's completely off oxygen support now."
"That's my goddaughter. A fighter like her mother." He knelt beside them, and Eva immediately tried to grab his nose. "Strong grip too."
"Gets that from Valentina. Stubborn."
We watched the babies for a moment—Ezio attempting to lift his head during tummy time, Eva making frustrated sounds at the effort. The afternoon light slanted through the windows, catching the dust motes in the air. For a moment, everything felt impossibly peaceful.
Then Domenico said quietly, "The family is stable. Thought you'd want to know."
I looked up sharply.
"Transitions went smoothly. Everyone accepted the succession—you stepping down, me stepping up." He met my eyes. "No challenges. No conflicts. You were right to trust me with this. The Valestris are stronger than ever."
"Any blowback from the FBI cooperation?"
"Some grumbling from the old guard. But I reminded them you testified against Marco's network, not ours. You protected the family while destroying our enemies." His mouth quirked. "They respect that. Respect you for knowing when to walk away."
Relief flooded through me. The family I'd led for eighteen years would survive without me. Thrive, even.
"Thank you," I said. "For taking this on. For letting me walk away clean."
"You earned it. Twenty years of leadership, sacrifice, putting the family first." He stood and gripped my shoulder. "Now you get to put your wife and children first. That's not weakness, fratello. That's wisdom."
Valentina appeared with coffee and smiled at Domenico. "Staying for lunch?"
"If you're offering."
"Always. Fair warning, though—lunch might get interrupted seventeen times by screaming infants."
"Sounds perfect."
After lunch, while Valentina napped with the babies, Domenico and I sat on the back porch.
Montana stretched before us—mountains, open sky, endless peace. The autumn air carried the first hints of winter, crisp and clean, the kind of cold that made you grateful for warm coffee and good company.
"You're really doing this," he said. "The bookstore. Normal life."
"We are." I showed him photos on my phone. "There's a place in town—The Reading Nook. The owner is retiring and wants to sell. We've got an appointment next week."
"A bookstore." He shook his head, smiling. "Never thought I'd see the day."
"Me neither. But it feels right." I pocketed the phone. "I spent twenty years in darkness, Dom. Violence, territorial wars, and constant threats. I'm done with that world. I want something different for my children."
"They're lucky. To have a father who chose differently."
