Chapter 10 - THE FOREVER HOME
Two years later.
Summer evening stretched long over the ocean cliffs of Newport, Rhode Island, painting the sky in breathtaking shades of violet, rose, and molten gold.
On the manicured lawn of a stunning white coastal villa—the Blackwood family's summer home—a long wooden table was set under glowing string lights.
The air was filled with the fresh, salty breeze of the Atlantic Ocean, the sound of crashing waves below the cliffs, and the delicious aroma of grilled seafood and fresh garden herbs.
At the edge of the lawn, ten-year-old Emma was running with a golden retriever puppy, her cheerful laughter echoing through the warm summer air. She wore a simple blue cotton dress, her brown hair flowing freely down her back, her pale blue-gray eyes bright with pure, unburdened happiness.
Beside the stone patio, Clara sat in a swinging wooden bench, holding a tiny, three-month-old baby boy wrapped in a soft yellow blanket.
Little Noah Blackwood.
Lucas walked out from the kitchen carrying a tray of fresh lemonade glasses. He had completely shed his dark mafia persona; he wore a soft white linen shirt, beige trousers, and a wide, genuine smile that had become his natural expression over the last three years.
He set the tray down on the table and walked over to the swinging bench, sitting down beside Clara and wrapping his broad arm around her shoulders.
"How is he doing?" Lucas murmured softly, leaning down to kiss the baby's tiny, soft forehead.
"He just fell asleep," Clara whispered warmly, resting her head against Lucas’s chest, listening to the calm, steady beat of his heart. "He looks just like you when he sleeps, Lucas."
"Poor kid," Lucas teased gently, kissing Clara’s temple. "I hope he gets your eyes."
They sat together in the quiet evening, watching Emma throw a tennis ball across the grass for the puppy, her small feet bare against the soft lawn.
Emma caught sight of her parents sitting on the bench and ran over, dropping down onto the wooden floorboards at their feet, resting her chin on Lucas’s knee.
"Daddy?" she asked softly, looking up into his dark eyes.
"Yes, sweet face?" Lucas smiled, stroking her hair.
"Do you remember the night I walked into your big house in Boston?" Emma asked, her eyes twinkling with sweet nostalgia.
"I remember every single second of it," Lucas said sincerely. "You were wearing a giant apron that dragged on the floor, carrying a folded piece of paper."
Emma giggled happily, looking down at her tiny baby brother sleeping in Clara’s arms, then back up at her father.
"I was so scared that night," Emma admitted softly. "My knees were shaking so hard I thought I was going to fall down on the stairs."
Lucas leaned down, lifting his dark-haired daughter effortlessly into his lap alongside Clara and the baby, holding his entire world securely in his broad, loving arms.
"You were the bravest little girl in the world, Emma," Lucas whispered into her hair, his dark eyes glistening with profound, unending gratitude. "You walked through a storm to save your mother... and you ended up saving all of us."
As the golden sun finally sank below the Pacific horizon, casting a warm, everlasting light over the happy family on the cliffs, Lucas Blackwood closed his eyes, holding his wife, his daughter, and his son tight against his heart.
May you like
The mafia king had lost his empire.
And in its place, he had found his home.
