Chapter 10 - PANCAKES AT MIDNIGHT
Spring arrived four months later, melting the winter snow and bringing the estate’s gardens to life with wild lavender, white roses, and golden sunflowers.
The Moretti syndicate had changed. Under Vincent’s renewed, clear-eyed leadership, the family’s predatory enterprises were dismantled or sold off, replaced by legitimate logistics, maritime shipping, and real estate development. Sal Valenti had paid back every cent with interest, and the other families, seeing Vincent’s terrifying resurgence, dared not cross the Moretti border.
Dante was never seen again. Rumors placed him working on a fishing trawler off the coast of South America, penniless and stripped of his pride, but alive—a living monument to Vincent’s mercy and unyielding boundaries.
On a warm Saturday evening in May, the grand estate was lit up with hundreds of fairy lights strung through the ancient oak trees.
The patio was filled with people. Capos, doctors from the children’s hospital, nurses, neighborhood families, and domestic staff sat together at long wooden tables covered in linen, enjoying fresh pasta, roasted meats, and fine Italian wine. Music played from the outdoor speakers—lively, joyful Neapolitan songs that Sofia had loved as a baby.
Vincent stood by the stone balustrade overlooking the sunflower garden, a glass of sparkling water in his hand. He wore a crisp white linen shirt and dark trousers, looking ten years younger than the exhausted ghost who had haunted these halls five months ago.
Beside him, Clara rested her hand on his forearm, leaning her head against his shoulder. Her smile was radiant, her beauty undeniable in the soft evening light.
Across the lawn, Ellie—dressed in a bright yellow sundress, her curls bouncing in the warm breeze—was chasing a golden retriever puppy across the grass, giggling with pure, unrestrained delight.
Marco stood near the garden gate, laughing as the puppy tackled Ellie into the clover.
Vincent reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out the three gold museum coins. He rolled them over his knuckles, feeling the familiar weight of the brass.
“Do you know what Sofia’s first wish was, years ago?” Vincent murmured to Clara.
Clara looked up at him, her eyes soft. “What was it?”
“Pancakes at midnight,” Vincent smiled fondly. “Her second wish was for a dog. And her third wish was for me to stay home during a thunderstorm.”
Vincent looked over at Ellie, who was now triumphantly holding the puppy in her arms, waving at him across the lawn.
“Ellie wished for you to stop crying,” Clara whispered, touching his cheek. “She saved your third wish, Vincent.”
Vincent looked at the three coins in his hand. Then, with a gentle flick of his wrist, he tossed them into the stone fountain in the center of the terrace.
The brass tokens splashed into the clear water, sinking to the bottom among the smooth river stones, catching the golden reflection of the setting sun.
“Wishes fulfilled,” Vincent said softly.
Ellie came running up the stone steps, the golden puppy scampering at her heels. She leaped into Vincent’s arms without hesitation. Vincent caught her effortlessly, swinging her up onto his hip, laughing as the puppy barked at his shoes.
“Daddy!” Ellie cheered, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Can we have pancakes at midnight tonight?”
Vincent looked at Clara, who winked at him.
May you like
Vincent kissed Ellie’s forehead, his heart full, whole, and completely at peace.
“Every midnight, my sweet girl,” Vincent said. “Every single midnight.”
