The following Christmas Eve, Roman Moretti stood inside a private hangar outside Chicago.

His jet waited beyond the glass.

Carlo approached.

“Denver confirmed everything.”

Roman nodded.

“And the weather?”

“Clear skies.”

Roman smiled.

“Of course.”

A year earlier, a storm had destroyed his plans.

Now he considered it the best thing that had ever happened to him.

A car pulled into the hangar.

Norah stepped out.

Leo was in her arms.

Isabella toddled beside her, holding Norah's hand.

Both children wore tiny winter coats.

Roman immediately walked toward them.

Isabella saw him.

“Da!”

Roman stopped.

Carlo looked at him.

Roman's face changed completely.

“Did she just—”

Norah smiled.

“She did.”

Isabella released her mother's hand.

Roman crouched.

She stumbled toward him.

Three steps.

Four.

Then she fell into his arms.

Roman lifted her.

“Say it again.”

“Da!”

He laughed.

The sound echoed through the hangar.

Norah watched him.

Roman kissed Isabella's forehead before taking Leo from her.

“Where are their bags?”

Norah pointed toward the car.

“Approximately half our luggage belongs to them.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“They're Morettis.”

Norah rolled her eyes.

“Don't start.”

Roman smiled.

Then he noticed she wasn't wearing gloves.

He reached for her hand.

She let him take it.

That still mattered.

They had not remarried.

Not yet.

Roman had asked once.

Norah had answered:

Ask me when you're certain you want a wife, not something you own.

He hadn't asked again.

He had waited.

Now, standing beneath the hangar lights while snow began falling softly outside, Roman reached into his coat.

Norah noticed.

“Roman.”

“This isn't what you think.”

“That's usually what men say immediately before doing exactly what women think.”

He pulled out a small velvet box.

Norah stared.

Roman opened it.

Inside was her old wedding ring.

Not a new diamond.

Not something larger.

The same ring she had left behind twelve months earlier.

Roman looked at her.

“I don't want to replace what we had.”

Norah's eyes filled.

“Roman—”

“I want to deserve another chance at it.”

He didn't kneel.

He didn't turn it into a performance.

He simply held out the ring.

“If the answer is no, I put it away.”

Norah stared at him.

“And if it's yes?”

“I spend the rest of my life proving you weren't wrong to come back.”

Silence.

Carlo quietly turned away and became intensely interested in the airplane.

Norah looked at the man standing before her.

The tattoos remained.

The dark tailored suit remained.

The intimidating presence remained.

Roman Moretti had not magically become another person.

He had done something harder.

He had learned that protecting a family did not mean controlling it.

Norah took the ring.

Roman's breath caught.

“Is that yes?”

“No.”

His face fell.

She smiled through her tears.

“That's permission to ask properly.”

Roman slowly handed Leo to Carlo.

Carlo panicked.

“Boss—”

“Hold your godson.”

“I don't know how.”

“You'll survive.”

Roman turned back.

Then, for perhaps the first time in his adult life, Chicago's feared mafia boss willingly lowered himself to one knee.

Norah covered her mouth.

Roman looked up at her.

“Norah Moretti, I can't erase the man I was.”

She listened.

“I can't give you back the year you spent alone. I can't give myself the first three months of Isabella and Leo's lives.”

His voice tightened.

“But I can give you every day after this one.”

He held out his hand.

“No cages. No running. No secrets.”

Norah whispered, “And no blood in my kitchen.”

Roman smiled faintly.

“Especially that.”

She laughed through her tears.

“Then ask me.”

“Will you marry me again?”

Norah looked toward their children.

Then back at Roman.

“Yes.”

Roman stood.

She barely had time to laugh before he wrapped his arms around her.

Carlo cleared his throat.

“Boss?”

Roman turned.

Carlo was holding Leo awkwardly while Isabella tugged on his tie.

“I'm happy for you. Truly. But please take your children.”

Norah burst out laughing.

Roman took Leo.

“Get used to it, Uncle Carlo.”

They boarded the jet minutes later.

Roman stopped beside row two.

Norah noticed.

Two seats remained empty across the aisle.

Exactly like the seats where he'd found her a year earlier.

“You planned this?” she asked.

Roman shrugged.

“I may have purchased the same aircraft configuration.”

“You're ridiculous.”

“I'm sentimental.”

“You threatened a man over a seat last Christmas.”

“I gave him a thousand dollars.”

“That doesn't make it better.”

“He seemed happy.”

Norah laughed and sat beside him.

Outside, snow drifted over the runway.

Inside, Isabella slept against Roman's chest while Leo curled against Norah.

Roman looked through the window.

One year earlier, he'd been racing toward Denver because he believed failing to answer violence would make him weak.

Instead, a storm had put him in row 2.

And there he'd discovered the only two people on earth who didn't care about his money, his reputation, his enemies, or the fear attached to his name.

Two babies who knew him simply as Dad.

Norah rested her head against his shoulder.

“Roman?”

“Hmm?”

“Where are we going?”

He smiled.

“Anywhere you want.”

She looked at him suspiciously.

“You don't have a plan?”

“No.”

Norah laughed.

“That might be the biggest change yet.”

Roman kissed her forehead.

The engines began to rise.

This time there was no war waiting at the other end of the flight.

No retaliation to authorize.

No territory worth more than the people sitting beside him.

Roman looked at Norah, Isabella, and Leo.

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Moretti.”

Norah glanced at the ring now back on her finger.

“Not quite yet.”

Roman smiled.

“I can wait.”

And for the first time in his life, he meant it.

Because Roman Moretti had spent years believing power meant making everyone else afraid to leave.

His family taught him something different.

Real power was becoming the kind of man they wanted to come home to.

And this Christmas, nobody was running anymore.