Chapter 27 - The Heir Nobody Expected
Pregnancy turned the Romano household into a dictatorship.
Unfortunately, I was not the dictator.
Massimo banned high heels.
Francesca monitored my meals.
Donna Caterina decided I needed “strong Sicilian blood-building food,” which apparently meant feeding me every forty minutes.
Claire provided medical facts nobody requested.
At twelve weeks, I threatened to move back into the flower shop.
Massimo called my bluff.
“There’s a bed in the upstairs office.”
I stared at him.
“You had one installed?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“You are insane.”
“I’m prepared.”
“You put a bed in my business.”
“It’s orthopedic.”
I walked away before marriage became temporary.
The pregnancy was healthy.
The company recovered.
Gabriel resigned from Moretti Capital and created a foundation honoring his mother.
Leonard Vale accepted a plea agreement.
Elena faced federal charges.
Dominic remained in custody awaiting trial.
For the first time in years, nothing was burning.
Then Romano Logistics received a takeover offer.
Not hostile.
Public.
A massive international infrastructure corporation offered thirteen billion dollars.
Cash.
The board wanted Massimo to consider it.
He refused immediately.
I made him reconsider.
“You haven’t even read the proposal.”
“I don’t want to sell.”
“Why?”
“Because it belongs to my family.”
I folded my arms.
“That sentence has caused your family approximately ninety percent of its problems.”
He glared at me.
I continued.
“What do you actually want?”
“The company.”
“No. That’s what you own.”
He went quiet.
“What do you want?”
Massimo walked toward the windows.
I knew the answer before he did.
He wanted time.
Time with me.
Time with our child.
Time without wondering whether a phone call meant somebody had betrayed him.
He had spent adulthood protecting an empire he never chose.
Selling would not mean surrender.
Maybe it meant freedom.
That evening, we met with Donna Caterina.
Massimo expected resistance.
Instead, his grandmother laughed.
“I’ve been waiting thirty years for someone to ask whether we actually need the damn company.”
He stared at her.
“You built it.”
“I survived it.”
She pointed her cane toward me.
“Sophie understands the difference.”
Francesca supported the sale too.
But only under conditions.
Employee pensions protected.
No layoffs for two years.
Chicago headquarters retained.
The environmental shipping program continued.
The horticultural institute funded permanently.
The buyer agreed.
Massimo negotiated for six weeks.
I watched him transform.
Not softer.
Lighter.
The final agreement valued Romano Logistics at fourteen-point-two billion dollars.
Massimo retained a minority position and board seat.
Our family foundation received permanent funding.
Twenty-three thousand employees kept their jobs.
The day the deal closed, Massimo came home early.
No entourage.
No briefcase.
No emergency calls.
He walked into the conservatory where I was trimming roses.
“It’s done.”
I put down the shears.
“How do you feel?”
He thought about it.
“Terrified.”
I laughed.
“Why?”
“I’ve had responsibility since I was nineteen.”
He looked at his hands.
“I don’t know who I am without it.”
I walked toward him.
“You’re the man who burns pancakes.”
“I burned one pancake.”
“Six.”
“They were structurally weak.”
I wrapped my arms around him.
“You’re also my husband.”
His hands settled over my stomach.
“And somebody’s father.”
The baby kicked.
Massimo froze.
Again.
He looked at me with absolute wonder.
“Was that—”
“Yes.”
The baby kicked again beneath his palm.
Massimo dropped to his knees.
He pressed his forehead gently against my belly.
“Hello.”
My throat tightened.
“You realize the baby cannot understand you.”
“Romano children are advanced.”
I laughed.
He kissed my stomach.
Then looked up.
“I want her to have your life.”
“What do you mean?”
“Flowers. Friends. Mistakes that aren’t fatal. Parents who come home for dinner.”
His voice lowered.
“I don’t want her raised inside an empire.”
I touched his face.
“Then don’t build one.”
That night, we decided something nobody in the Romano family had done in generations.
Our child would inherit opportunity.
Not obligation.
But the following morning, an envelope arrived.
No threat.
No black flower.
Just a court seal.
Dominic Moretti had changed his plea.
May you like
He was demanding a public trial.
And according to prosecutors, he planned to put Massimo on the witness stand.
