Chapter 14 - THE LIFE ROMAN HAD TO EARN
Roman changed slowly.
Norah required that.
No dramatic promises.
No overnight transformation.
The criminal side of the Moretti organization was dismantled piece by piece.
Some operations sold.
Some closed.
Some records turned over to prosecutors.
Some men walked away.
Others did not.
Roman lost money.
Influence.
Old allies.
He gained mornings.
That surprised him.
Morning with Grace throwing oatmeal.
Morning with Elias refusing socks.
Morning with Norah drinking coffee while staring at him over the rim like she was still deciding whether he deserved to be there.
He loved mornings.
They lived separately for eight months.
Roman kept an apartment nearby.
No guards inside.
One discreet protection team outside when necessary.
Norah controlled access to the twins’ medical records.
Sofia remained trustee.
The children’s inheritance stayed protected and optional.
Teresa accepted a plea deal.
Matteo faced trial.
Carlo cooperated fully and served time for financial crimes.
Roman visited him once.
Not to forgive.
To close the door honestly.
Sarah lost her license and testified.
Miriam stayed in their lives.
Sofia became “Aunt Sofie,” which Elias pronounced “Fee.”
Roman went to therapy.
He hated that most.
The therapist once asked:
“What do you feel when Norah says no?”
Roman answered:
“Frustration.”
“And beneath that?”
“More frustration.”
Norah laughed for fifteen minutes when he told her.
Eventually, the real answer emerged.
Fear.
No had always meant loss.
Enemies saying no meant defiance.
Family saying no meant betrayal.
Norah taught him something else.
Sometimes no meant simply no.
Not rejection.
Not war.
Just boundary.
One evening, a year after the flight, Roman took Norah to dinner.
Public restaurant.
No private room.
No men closing doors.
He ordered pasta.
She ordered steak.
He did not buy the restaurant.
Growth.
After dinner, they walked through snow.
Norah stopped outside a jewelry store.
Roman stiffened.
“What?”
She smiled.
“You look scared.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
“I have a ring at home.”
She stared.
“You what?”
“I’ve had it for six months.”
“Roman.”
“I haven’t asked.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know if wanting to remarry you counts as pressure.”
Norah’s face softened.
“You’re allowed to want things.”
“I’m aware.”
“You’re allowed to ask.”
He looked at her.
“I’m not good at asking.”
“I noticed.”
She squeezed his hand.
“Try.”
Roman stood beneath falling snow.
No ring.
No kneeling.
No performance.
“Norah.”
“Yes?”
“Would you ever want to marry me again?”
She smiled.
“Ask me with the ring.”
His mouth twitched.
“You’re impossible.”
“You married me.”
“Apparently I’m considering doing it twice.”
They went home.
Roman retrieved the ring.
Simple.
Nothing enormous.
Norah approved.
He knelt.
Not because tradition required it.
Because he wanted to.
“Norah Hale Moretti.”
She laughed.
“That is legally still my name.”
“Convenient.”
“Continue.”
“Will you choose me again?”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Yes.”
Then she added:
“But we keep therapy.”
Roman sighed.
May you like
“I knew there was a trap.”
She kissed him anyway.
