Chapter 11 - Sophie’s Real MotherThat evening, the family gathered in the private sitting room on the second floor of the mansion.
A fire crackled warmly in the brick hearth, casting a soft golden glow across the room.
Sophie sat on the sofa between Luca and me, holding an old leather-bound photo album of her mother, Sarah.
For five years, Vanessa had forbidden Sophie from displaying photographs of Sarah downstairs, claiming that keeping memories of the past was unhealthy for a growing girl.
Now, the mantel above the fireplace held four framed photographs of Sarah laughing on the beach, holding baby Sophie, and standing beside Luca on their wedding day.
Sophie turned a page in the album, pointing to a photograph of her mother kneeling in a garden bed.
“Mom loved yellow roses, didn't she, Dad?” Sophie asked softly.
Luca smiled, wrapping his arm around his daughter’s shoulders.
“She loved yellow roses more than anything, baby. She used to plant them along the south wall every spring.”
Sophie looked over at me, her dark eyes shining with innocent, beautiful warmth.
“Emma?”
“Yes, sweetie?”
“Can we plant yellow roses along the terrace this weekend? For Mom?”
Tears welled in my eyes. I reached out, gently squeezing Sophie’s hand.
“We will plant fifty of them, Sophie. Every single one along the wall where she can see them.”
Sophie beamed, throwing her arms around my neck, burying her face into my shoulder.
“Thank you, Emma. For staying with us.”
“I’m never leaving you, Sophie,” I whispered into her hair, holding her close against my heart. “Never.”
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Rosa sat in her armchair across the hearth, watching us with a look of pure, serene contentment on her face, her rosary resting quietly on her lap.
Luca reached across the sofa, his large, warm hand closing over mine and Sophie’s joined fingers, binding our family together in an unbreakable, sacred circle of love.
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