Chapter 15
Four years after the christening, Gabriel, Nicolas, and Serafina were loud preschoolers who had developed three completely different personalities despite arriving within minutes of one another.
Gabriel liked anything with wheels.
Nicolas collected rocks in every pocket he owned.
Serafina believed rules were suggestions invented by tired adults.
Dominic was eleven and had become extremely proud of being the only person in the house who remembered when all three could fit into one bassinet.
The hospital identification bands lived in a sealed family-record box.
Not displayed.
Not thrown away.
Gabriel’s tampered wrist band remained preserved with the legal file until the case closed, then returned to Roman and Elena.
Elena almost destroyed it.
Instead she stored it.
“One day they may ask.”
Roman nodded.
Vivienne had no contact with the children.
That boundary was settled.
Bianca was different.
She had completed probation.
Continued therapy.
Sold the house with the nursery she had prepared for Gabriel and moved into a smaller apartment.
She remained financially comfortable through her nonvoting trust interests and her own career.
For three years, she followed every boundary Roman set.
No surprise gifts.
No messages through relatives.
No birthday cards slipped to Dominic.
Once a year, she sent one letter to Roman through the mediator.
He read them.
Elena did not unless she wanted to.
The newest letter contained only one request.
If there ever comes a time when you believe I can know your children as their aunt—and nothing else—I would be grateful for the chance. If that time never comes, I understand why.
Roman folded it.
Elena watched from the kitchen table.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know.”
She nodded.
No argument.
The practical pieces were finished.
Gabriel had never been legally transferred.
The forged adoption documents were void.
The hospital-label weakness was corrected.
Vivienne’s related-party financial structure had been exposed.
Vesta was gone.
Aurelian’s disputed money had been settled.
Bianca’s branch followed the trust terms instead of being preserved through a stolen family arrangement.
Roman answered for striking his mother.
Vivienne answered for what she did.
The children were safe.
Only one question remained unresolved.
Bianca.
Not whether she had been innocent.
She had not.
Not whether Vivienne manipulated her.
She had.
The unresolved question was whether years of remorse and respected boundaries could ever make Bianca safe enough to become an aunt again.
Dominic entered the kitchen while Roman still held the letter.
“Is that from Aunt Bianca?”
Roman looked at him.
“Yes.”
Dominic was old enough now to know a simplified version of what happened.
He thought for a moment.
“Are we seeing her?”
“I haven’t decided.”
Dominic nodded.
Then:
“Do I get to decide?”
Roman almost answered automatically.
He stopped.
“You get a voice.”
“Do the triplets?”
“When they’re old enough.”
“What does Mom get?”
“A voice.”
Dominic smiled slightly.
“And you?”
Roman looked down at Bianca’s letter.
“A voice.”
His son frowned.
“Then who decides?”
Roman glanced at Elena.
She understood the irony before he spoke.
“We do.”
Dominic rolled his eyes.
“That sounds complicated.”
“It is.”
Four years earlier, Roman would have considered complexity a weakness.
Someone should choose.
Someone should command.
Someone should close the door and make uncertainty disappear.
That instinct had built much of the DeLuca family.
It had also allowed Vivienne to believe she could place a newborn into another woman’s arms and announce a new reality.
Roman put Bianca’s letter back into its envelope.
Not accepted.
Not rejected.
Not yet.
From the playroom, Gabriel shouted because Nicolas had stolen one of his toy cars.
Serafina immediately shouted that technically she had stolen it first.
Roman stood.
Elena laughed.
“Go handle your heirs.”
Roman looked toward the noise.
“Four of them was apparently greedy.”
Elena’s smile disappeared for half a second.
Then returned.
Roman walked toward his children.
May you like
Bianca’s letter stayed on the table.
For once, nobody in the DeLuca family was allowed to decide another person’s place before that person was ready.
