CHAPTER 8: SUNRISE ON CAPRI
Three days later.
The morning sun broke over the Tyrrhenian Sea, painting the jagged limestone cliffs of Capri in brilliant hues of gold, rose, and turquoise. The Mediterranean air was sweet, carrying the crisp scent of saltwater and blossoming lemon groves.
On the secluded terrace of the fortified DeLuca villa, high above the crashing waves, a small table was set with fresh espresso, warm pastries, and wild strawberries.
Isabella sat in a wicker armchair, wrapped in a cream-colored silk robe. The dark bruises on her face were fading to a soft amber, and the color had finally begun to return to her cheeks. In her lap sat Emma, who was happily babbling as she dipped a strawberry into a bowl of whipped cream, her small hands covered in sugar.
The heavy glass doors of the villa slid open quietly.
Lorenzo stepped onto the terrace. He wore no suit, no tie, no shoulder holster—just a simple linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The exhaustion that had weighed on his shoulders for eight agonizing months was finally gone, replaced by a deep, quiet peace.
Isabella looked up, her emerald eyes meeting his. She didn't need to ask what had happened in Milan. She saw the answer in the relaxed line of his shoulders and the stillness in his eyes.
"Is it done?" she asked softly.
Lorenzo walked over, kneeling beside her chair just as he had done on the jet. He reached up, gently tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear before leaning in to press his lips against hers—a slow, tender kiss that smelled of sea air and morning sunlight.
"It’s over, mia cara," Lorenzo murmured against her lips. "The north is ours. The family is safe."
Emma giggled, thrusting a cream-covered strawberry toward her father's face. "Daddy, eat!"
Lorenzo laughed—a real, rich sound that echoed across the sunlit terrace, a sound that hadn't been heard in the DeLuca household for almost a year. He took a small bite from the child's hand, wiping her sticky fingers with a napkin.
Behind them, Marcus appeared at the edge of the terrace, holding a secure satellite phone. He caught Lorenzo’s eye and gave a subtle, respectful nod, indicating that the capos in Rome and Naples were waiting for their Don's morning debrief.
Lorenzo looked at Marcus, then back at his wife and daughter laughing together in the morning sun.
May you like
He raised his hand, waving Marcus away. "Tell them to wait," Lorenzo said calmly. "The Don is busy."
He took Isabella’s hand, locking his fingers tightly with hers as they sat together, watching the sun rise fully over the infinite, calm blue sea.
