Chapter 10 - The Voice of the House
Six months later.
The Moretti estate had been completely restored, its stone walls gleaming under the warm spring sunshine. The high wrought-iron fences remained, but the oppressive dark atmosphere of the grounds had vanished, replaced by flower gardens, open fountains, and the sound of music.
Dominic Vance and his syndicate were gone, completely dismantled by Roman’s forces in the weeks following the attack.
In the grand courtyard, a small, elegant wedding ceremony took place. White roses lined the aisle, and light instrumental music floated through the warm breeze.
Harper walked down the aisle wearing a breath-taking lace gown, holding a bouquet of lily of the valley. Standing at the altar was Roman, looking breathtakingly handsome in a black tuxedo, his eyes fixed on his bride with pure, unyielding devotion.
Beside Roman stood Beatrice, wearing a mother-of-the-groom gown of dusty rose silk.
As Harper reached the altar, Roman took her hand, his touch warm and steady.
The justice of the peace began the ceremony, but as he spoke the vows, Roman turned to Harper, raising his hands.
The entire crowd of guests gasped softly.
Roman Moretti—the man everyone in New York feared, the silent boss of the city’s most powerful enterprise—began to sign his vows in smooth, beautiful American Sign Language.
I, Roman, he signed, his eyes locked onto Harper’s, take you, Harper, to be my wife. You brought light into my dark home. You gave my mother back her voice, and you gave me back my heart. I promise to protect you, respect you, and love you in every silence and every storm for the rest of my life.
Harper wept tears of pure joy, her own hands rising to sign back: I take you, Roman. You are my home.
They exchanged rings, and when Roman pulled Harper into his arms for their first kiss as husband and wife, the courtyard erupted into joyous applause.
Across the front row, Beatrice sat watching them, her hands raised high in the air, signing over and over again with tears of utter happiness streaming down her face:
Thank you. Thank you. Welcome home, my daughter.
Roman pulled back from the kiss, resting his forehead against Harper’s, his rare, brilliant smile lighting up his face.
“No more waiting,” Roman whispered against her lips.
May you like
“No more waiting,” Harper agreed, turning to look at Beatrice, smiling as her hands moved one last time in the bright sunlight:
We are finally whole.
