Chapter 14 - THE SON WHO FINALLY LEARNED TO LISTEN
Six months changed the Moretti family more than thirty-eight years had.
Not completely.
Families did not heal like broken bones.
There was no clean setting.
No date when everything became normal.
But they changed.
Dante kept dismantling criminal operations tied to trafficking, coercion, and blackmail.
Some legitimate businesses remained.
Shipping.
Real estate.
Restaurants.
Security.
He submitted to investigations where the evidence touched his own decisions.
That cost him money.
Allies.
Influence.
He did it anyway.
Luca moved back to New York but refused the mansion.
“I survived sixteen years without sharing a bathroom with you.”
Dante told him there were eighteen bathrooms.
Luca said that somehow made it worse.
Sarah slowly became part of the family.
Not Sofia.
Sarah.
Her chosen name mattered.
Lucia learned not to demand the daughter she lost.
She learned the woman Sarah became.
Lily spent Sunday dinners with them.
She delighted in correcting Dante’s ASL.
His signing improved.
Slowly.
One night, he signed an entire sentence to Lucia.
I’m sorry I answered for you instead of asking you.
Lucia stared.
Then replied:
I’m sorry I stopped demanding you listen.
They both cried.
Emma pretended not to notice.
Her own life changed too.
She left Aurelia after DeLuca’s death and investigation.
For a while, she panicked.
Ninety-three dollars until payday had not been a cute character detail.
It had been her life.
Dante offered money once.
Emma said no.
He never offered again.
Instead, Lucia introduced her to a nonprofit hospital network seeking ASL patient advocates.
Emma applied herself.
She got the job herself.
When the offer came, she cried in the subway.
Dante took her to dinner.
Not at a private club.
At a tiny Italian place in Queens where the owner yelled at everyone equally.
Emma loved it.
Their relationship remained slow.
Dante was not magically transformed into a harmless man.
He still had enemies.
A past.
Habits shaped by violence.
Emma did not romanticize them.
When he crossed lines, she said so.
When she was afraid, she said that too.
One evening, they walked along the East River.
Dante stopped.
“I’ve been thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
He smiled.
“About marriage.”
Emma nearly tripped.
“That escalated.”
“I am not proposing.”
“Good.”
His eyebrows rose.
“Good?”
“I want you nervous.”
“I am.”
She laughed.
Then he said:
“I don’t know how to build something normal.”
Emma looked at him.
“Normal is overrated.”
“What do you want?”
That question.
Not what can I give you.
What do you want?
She answered carefully.
“A home where nobody has to earn the right to speak.”
Dante went still.
Emma continued.
“Where Lily doesn’t get treated like she’s fragile because she’s deaf.”
“Yes.”
“Where Lucia signs and people watch.”
“Yes.”
“Where your future children—if you want them—don’t grow up afraid of telling you hard things.”
His expression softened.
“I want that.”
Emma smiled.
“Then learn it.”
He nodded.
No promises about perfection.
Just work.
A week later, Lucia asked Emma to meet at the old private dining room in Aurelia, now reopened under new ownership.
Table twelve.
Lucia sat there alone.
Emma frowned.
“Where’s Dante?”
Lucia smiled.
Then signed:
Hiding.
Emma laughed.
“Hiding?”
Lucia pointed behind her.
Dante stepped from the doorway.
He looked nervous.
Actually nervous.
Emma turned toward Lucia.
“You set me up.”
Lucia signed:
Yes.
Then she stood.
She kissed Emma’s cheek.
And left.
Dante walked toward Emma.
In his hand was a small box.
Emma’s heart began pounding.
“You said you weren’t proposing.”
“That was a week ago.”
“You are impossible.”
“I’ve been told.”
Then, before he knelt, he signed:
May I ask you something?
May you like
Perfectly.
Emma’s eyes filled.
