Page 133 of The Ruin I Chose

I closed my eyes, listening to the rhythm of his heart. The hush of the city. The quiet of being whole again.

We didn’t need vows. We didn’t need a ceremony. We had this. This night. This love.

And if ruin felt like this—soft, sacred, slow—it'll always be the ruin I chose.

And in that quiet, tangled moment between breath and heartbeat—I knew. This was finally home.

EPILOGUE

ROXANNE

“Stop troubling me, you little monster!”

Kyra, now 7, shrieked as Romano, 2, chased her through the villa with tiny outstretched muddy hands. His giggles echoed off stone walls—wild, gleeful, untamed.

I watched from the kitchen doorway, sipping tea.

“Your children are a menace,” I said, my smile betraying me.

Marcello came up behind me, sliding his arms around my waist and kissing the curve of my neck.

“Ours,” he murmured, lips pressing lightly against my neck.

I tilted my head.

“Uh-uh. When they’re trouble, they’re yours. When they behave, they’re ours.”

He smirked, lips brushing my ear. “And when are they yours?”

I turned in his arms, kissed him back deeper.

“Always.”

He glanced at his watch and called out.

“Kids! Zia Alessia’s here—time to go!”

We kissed the kids goodbye. Kyra and Romano had just left for Palma with Alessia. The Leopardi estate would be chaos for a few days—Sophie and Matteo already plotting games, my mother fussing over Kyra’s hair, and Marcello’s mother pretending not to spoil them all. I sighed and turned towards Marcello.

“Finally, alone.”

He leaned in, kissing me deep and grabbing my ass hard.

“Are you wearing the thing I gave you?” he murmured.

I flushed. “Yes.”

He tapped something on his phone. My knees buckled. I grabbed his arm, breath catching.

“Go slow,” I hissed.

He leaned in, voice low and wicked.

“I decide the speed, mia metà. And how long you’ll beg.”

I paused, heart hammering, feeling the dark hunger in his gaze—patient and relentless.

“You planned this,” I whispered, teasing, letting anticipation coil between us.