Chapter 13 - Cleaning House on Michigan AvenueThe following three weeks were a whirlwind of joyous celebration and new beginnings.
Under my direction, the newly chartered Moretti Trust established an endowment dedicated to providing legal aid, financial literacy, and protective advocacy for elderly citizens facing predatory guardianships across Illinois.
The domestic staff at the Gold Coast mansion received permanent employment contracts with full pension benefits, union wages, and comprehensive healthcare coverage.
Mrs. Gable was given full executive authority over household provisioning, ensuring that all food and supplies were sourced exclusively from honest local vendors, including the small Italian delis on Taylor Street.
One Saturday morning, I walked into the grand kitchen.
The mansion was warm, filled with the rich aromas of simmering cinnamon cider, roasting chestnuts, and fresh sourdough bread.
My brother Toby was sitting at the breakfast island in his work overalls, eating a massive plate of scrambled eggs, laughing heartily with Rosa as she showed him how to braid sweet holiday bread.
“Good morning, Donna Emma,” Toby teased with a playful wink as I walked in.
“Don't you start, Toby,” I laughed, swatting his arm with a linen towel before kissing Rosa’s cheek. “You’re an apprentice electrician now; you have pipes to inspect.”
“I’m off duty until Monday, big sister,” Toby grinned, taking a bite of bread. “And Don Luca said I’m allowed to eat all the pastries I want.”
Footsteps echoed softly from the hallway.
Luca walked into the kitchen, wearing a casual charcoal cashmere sweater and dark trousers, looking relaxed, powerful, and breathtakingly handsome.
He walked straight to where I was standing, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind, pulling me gently against his solid, warm chest.
He buried his face into the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply.
“Vanilla, clean rain, and sweet bread,” he murmured against my skin, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. “The only scent I ever want to wake up to.”
I leaned back against him, looping my arms over his, smiling at the reflection of our family gathered in the sunlit kitchen.
“The wedding invitations were mailed this morning, Luca,” I whispered.
“Five hundred guests,” Luca smiled against my cheek. “And this time, my mother is sitting in the front row, holding my daughter’s hand, drinking the first toast herself.”
Rosa chuckled from the island, nodding with satisfaction.
May you like
“And nobody is touching my phone, son. Not for a million dollars.”
Laughter rippled through the kitchen, warm, bright, and completely devoid of shadows.
