Chapter 10 - The Sovereign Heart
Two years later.
The quiet sunset over Lake Michigan painted the sky in vivid strokes of gold, rose, and deep indigo. The cool autumn air carried the crisp scent of pine and fresh rain, blowing softly through the tall glass doors of the lakeside estate.
Inside the sprawling living room, the sound of bright, musical laughter echoed off the timber beams.
A little girl with dark, tumbling curls and bright brown eyes was toddling across the thick Persian rug, her chubby legs moving as fast as they could carry her. She clutched a plush velvet bear in her tiny hands, giggling hysterically as a broad-shouldered man pursued her on his hands and knees.
“I’m going to catch the little monster,” Roman growled playfully, his dark eyes glowing with pure, unadulterated joy.
Two-year-old Sophia Duca shrieked with delight, scrambling toward the sofa where Hannah sat.
Hannah leaned down, scooping her daughter up into her arms, lifting her high into the air as the toddler collapsed against her chest in breathless giggles.
“Got you,” Hannah laughed, pressing a dozen soft kisses against Sophia’s chubby cheeks. “Daddy is too slow today.”
Roman pushed himself up from the floor, sitting on the cushion beside Hannah. He pulled both of his women into his massive arm span, resting his head against Hannah’s shoulder while Sophia patted her father’s scarred jaw with her sticky, small fingers.
At forty-five, Roman Duca looked different than he had three years ago. The harsh, cold lines around his eyes had softened. The lethal, terrifying edge that had made dangerous men whisper in his presence was still there—deep beneath the surface, ready to awaken in a second if his family was ever threatened—but in the warmth of his home, he was simply a man deeply, hopelessly in love with his wife and child.
“She has your laughter,” Roman murmured, turning his head to press his lips against the soft crook of Hannah’s neck.
“And she has your stubbornness,” Hannah replied, smiling as Sophia attempted to put her velvet bear on top of Roman’s head. “She refused to eat her peas tonight until I let her hold your watch.”
“She can have the watch,” Roman said without hesitation. “She can have the house, the shipping line, and the city if she asks for it.”
“Don't spoil her too much,” Hannah teased gently. “We still have to raise a functional human being.”
The front doorbell chimed softly through the house.
Roman kissed Hannah’s temple before standing up to answer it. A moment later, Uncle Mateo and Bianca walked into the living room, carrying armfuls of wrapped birthday presents for Sophia’s upcoming third birthday party.
Bianca looked radiant. The harsh, rigid posture that had once defined her was gone, replaced by the warm, proud grace of a grandmother who spent half her week spoiling her granddaughter.
“Look at my little princess!” Bianca declared, setting the boxes down and extending her arms.
Sophia immediately wriggled out of Hannah’s lap, running straight to Bianca, who lifted the child into her arms without a single thought for her tailored silk blouse.
“Good evening, Hannah,” Mateo smiled, sitting down across from them with a thick leather folder. “I brought the quarterly reports for the shipping firm and the medical foundation. The new international branch in London just cleared its regulatory review.”
“No work tonight, Mateo,” Roman commanded smoothly, walking over to pour two glasses of sparkling wine, handing one to Hannah and one to his uncle. “Tonight is family time.”
Mateo laughed, setting the folder aside. “You’re right, Roman. Forgive me.”
As the family gathered around the warm stone fireplace, sharing stories, drinking wine, and watching little Sophia play on the rug, Hannah leaned back against the plush cushions of the sofa.
She looked at Bianca, who was patiently letting Sophia put plastic toy hair clips into her perfectly styled hair. She looked at Mateo, who was showing Roman photos of new tugboats added to the fleet. And finally, her eyes rested on Roman.
He was watching her.
He was always watching her.
Even across a room full of family, his dark eyes found hers with an intensity that had never faded, never wavered, and never dimmed since the day he had placed a wedding ring on her finger.
Roman walked over, sitting beside her on the deep sofa. He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her close against his side. His large, warm hand rested over her hip, his thumb slowly tracing a comforting circle through the soft fabric of her dress.
“Happy?” he whispered into her hair.
Hannah looked at him, feeling the absolute, unshakeable peace that filled every corner of her soul. She thought back to the woman who had stood in that cold, hostile dining room three years ago—the woman who had taken a slap to her cheek, swallowed her humiliation, and waited for the truth to prevail.
She hadn't shrunk. She hadn't changed who she was to fit into their world.
She had conquered their world simply by remaining true to herself.
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“More than happy, Roman,” Hannah whispered back, turning her head to press her lips softly against his. “I am home.”
Roman tightened his grip around her, pulling her flush against his chest as the fire crackled in the hearth, bathing the room in a rich, golden light that would never, ever fade.
