The Don’s Soulmate

Epilogue

Carlotta

I stand beside Ettore at the grand entrance of our new mansion, a gift from our fathers, my heart fluttering with anticipation. The warm Italian breeze carries the scent of jasmine as our families arrive, their voices a melodic cacophony of greetings and laughter.

"Benvenuti," Ettore's deep voice rumbles beside me as he shakes hands with my father.

I lean in to kiss my brother's cheek. "Angelo, I'm so glad you could make it."

As guests filter into the opulent foyer, I can't help but marvel at how different this gathering feels from the tense family meetings of the past. But now, with everything behind us and having formed new alliances, all due to the hard work Ettore’s father put into forging one, there's electricity in the air, a sense of triumph and new beginnings.

Ettore's hand finds the small of my back, his touch possessive yet comforting. "Shall we move to the living room, amore?" he murmurs in my ear.

I nod, allowing him to guide me through the crowd. The living room reflects everything I love—our priceless art seized back from Ugo adorns the walls, a large bar runs from ceiling to floor, the fireplace burns warm, and crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the gathered families.

"What can I get everyone to drink?" Ettore's voice cuts through the chatter as he strides to the bar. "We have an excellent 25-year-old Macallan, or perhaps some Barolo for the wine enthusiasts?"

I watch as he effortlessly commands the room, pouring drinks with the confidence of a man accustomed to power. His cold blue eyes scan the crowd, assessing and calculating if the guests are truly enjoying the evening, even in this moment of celebration.

"Carlotta, tesoro," he calls, jerking me from my thoughts. "Come help me serve our guests."

I move to his side, accepting glasses to distribute. As I hand a flute of champagne to my Sofia, she whispers, "You two make quite the power couple. It’s a good look on you."

I smile and wink. "Grazie, Sofia. We're just happy to have everyone here safely."

As I turn back to Ettore, our eyes lock. In that moment, my entire life’s struggles seem worth it, as though everything was meant to lead up to this moment.

Ettore clears his throat, and the room falls silent. My heart races as he begins to speak, his voice low and commanding.

"Friends and family, I thank you for your support," he says, his blue eyes scanning the room. Today, we celebrate a victory. Ugo Caputo is no longer a threat to our families or the D’Amici businesses. He's been permanently relocated."

A chill runs through me at the implication in his words. I know what "relocated" means in our world.

"Our unity," Ettore continues, "has proven to be our greatest strength. Together, we've eliminated a cancer that threatened to destroy us all."

I watch as heads nod in agreement, feeling a mixture of relief and unease. The danger may be gone, but at what cost?

Suddenly, my father steps forward, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Ettore," he says, his voice thick with emotion, "I owe you a debt I can never repay. You've rid us of Caputo and saved my daughter's life."

I hold my breath, shocked by this unexpected display of vulnerability from my usually stoic father.

"I was wrong," he continues, looking at me. "Forcing you to marry Ugo was the greatest mistake of my life, Carlotta. Seeing you now, safe and... happy... it's more than I dared hope for."

Tears blur my vision as I struggle to process his words. Years of resentment and fear begin to mean nothing, replaced by a solid hope.

Ettore's arm slides around my waist, both possessive and protective. "Your daughter is my world now," he says, his voice softening slightly. "She will always be safe with me."

My father nods as I lean into Ettore, conflicted by the comfort. Then, my father turns to the room. “You should all know, with the money the Mancini’s invested in our businesses, the D’Amici’s are doing better than ever before and soon, we’ll repay our loan.”

“Nonsense!” Ettore’s father stands and walks over to pat my father on his back. “We’re going to keep the equity. How about that? Can we be partners?”

“Partners,” my father nods with a smile, clinking his glass with Ettore’s. “I always knew you were a fine fellow, Alfonso. I’ll never forget that morning when you showed up at my door and reminded me of the fact that I was a fool to throw away a future with my daughter. And now, I know you’d always be there to ensure I don’t mess up our business.”

The room breaks out into laughter.

Just then, a hush falls over the room as the door creaks open. My heart leaps into my throat as our nanny, Maria, enters with a small bundle cradled in her arms. The air seems to crackle with anticipation.

"Signora," Maria says softly, her eyes shining. "Your son is ready to join the party."

I step forward, my legs trembling. The world narrows to that tiny bundle wrapped in a soft blue blanket. As Maria places him in my arms, I feel a surge of love so powerful it steals my breath.

Ettore moves closer, his usual predatory grace tempered by an uncharacteristic hesitation. As he reaches for our child, I notice his hands—hands that have dealt so much violence—are shaking slightly. “His first night out of the hospital,” he whispers, petrified we might make a mistake.

He cradles our son with infinite care, and when he looks up at me, I'm stunned by the raw emotion in his eyes.

“He’ll be fine, my love,” I nod, eyes peering into Ettore’s.

In that moment, as we stand surrounded by our families, united by this new life we've created, I feel the last remnants of the curse that has haunted us for lifetimes finally shatter. We've done it. We've broken free.

As we bask in the glow of our newfound peace, Sofia steps forward, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "He's beautiful," she says, her voice filled with warmth. "What's his name?"

I exchange a meaningful glance with Ettore before turning to address our families. "We've decided to name him Alvatore Mancini," I announce, my voice carrying across the room. "In honor of Alfonso and Salvatore."

A hush falls over the gathering, followed by murmurs of approval. I see my father's eyes widen in surprise, then soften with gratitude.

"And," Ettore adds, his deep voice commanding attention, "we'd like to celebrate Sofia officially being named Alvatore's godmother."

Sofia's hand flies to her mouth, her usual witty composure momentarily shattered. "Seriously?" she whispers, looking between Ettore and me. "Are you sure? I mean, I know you told me, but with your families back in your life…”

I reach out and grasp her hand. "There's no one we trust more," I tell her, squeezing gently. "You've been my rock through everything, Sofia. We want you to be part of our son's life in every way possible."

Sofia's eyes sparkle with mischief as she regains her composure. "Well, I suppose someone needs to teach the little prince how to have fun," she quips, winking at Ettore. "Heaven knows his father won't."

Ettore's lips twitch in a rare show of amusement. "I trust you'll also teach him the value of discretion," he says dryly.

As laughter ripples through the room, I feel a sense of rightness settle over me. This is what family should be – love, laughter, and unwavering support. Even in our dangerous world, we've carved out a space for joy.

I look down at Alvatore, sleeping peacefully in Ettore's arms, blissfully unaware of the complex web of loyalty and power that surrounds him. "Welcome to the family, little one," I whisper. "You are so loved."

The End