Chapter 7 - Healing Scars
The transition didn't happen overnight.
The cleanup of the estate took weeks. The cleanup of Chicago's underworld took months.
But Luca kept his word.
He systematically handed over his illegal territories to the authorities through anonymous tips, dismantled the violent factions, and shifted all his power into his legitimate business empire—real estate, shipping, and the Moretti Foundation.
Through it all, I never left the estate.
I couldn't.
Sophia wouldn't do her physical therapy unless I was in the room, cheering her on.
Dr. Benton was amazed. "It's entirely psychological," she explained to Luca and me one afternoon as we watched Sophia walk across the garden lawn with a walker. "The trauma of the accident locked her muscles in fear. Hannah represents her survival. With Hannah here, her brain finally believes she is safe enough to move."
Luca stood beside me on the terrace, watching his daughter laugh as my cat, Barnaby, chased a butterfly near her feet.
"She's doing so well," I murmured, a lump of pride in my throat.
"She is," Luca agreed.
He turned to face me. The harsh lines of stress that had aged his face for three years were completely gone. He looked relaxed, incredibly handsome in a casual linen shirt.
"Hannah."
I looked up at him. "Yes?"
"My empire is clean. The foundation is thriving. Elias is in a federal penitentiary facing life for conspiracy to commit murder, thanks to the evidence I anonymously mailed to the DA."
"I know. It's wonderful, Luca."
"But there is one thing missing."
He took a step closer. The air between us suddenly crackled with a different kind of tension—not fear, but intense, undeniable attraction.
Over the past six months, we had spent hours talking late at night. We had shared meals, managed Sophia's tantrums, and navigated the bizarre blending of our two worlds.
I was no longer just the waitress who saved his daughter.
I was the woman he looked for every time he walked into a room.
"What's missing?" I whispered, my heart fluttering.
"You still insist on staying in the guest suite," he said, his voice dropping an octave, rich and smooth. "You still apply for jobs online when you think I'm not looking."
I blushed, looking down at my hands. "Luca, I have to work. I can't just live off your gratitude forever. I don't belong in this billionaire lifestyle. I'm a diner waitress."
Luca gently caught my chin, lifting my face so I had to look into his intense, dark eyes.
"You are the woman who dove into a frozen river. You are the woman who stood between my daughter and a hail of bullets. You are the strongest, most extraordinary person I have ever met."
He leaned in, his breath warm against my lips.
"You don't belong in a diner, Hannah. You belong with us. With me."
My breath caught. "Are you sure?"
"I have never been more sure of anything in my life," he murmured.
And then, he kissed me.
It wasn't a desperate, rushed kiss. It was slow, deliberate, and fiercely tender. It was a promise.
All the fear, the trauma, and the lonely years of hiding vanished in the warmth of his arms.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, kissing him back with everything I had.
From the lawn, we heard a sudden, joyful shout.
"Ewww! Daddy is kissing Hannah!"
We broke apart, both laughing.
Sophia was standing there.
She had let go of her walker.
May you like
She was standing entirely on her own, a massive, cheeky grin on her face.
Luca's eyes filled with tears. He grabbed my hand, lacing his fingers through mine, and together, we walked down the terrace steps toward our daughter.
