Chapter 9 - The Aftermath
Two years later.
I lived in a small coastal town in Tuscany. Emma was five, healthy, and happy. We had everything we needed, paid for by an anonymous trust that arrived every month.
I never forgot Chicago. I never forgot the sound of the alarms or the way Alessandro stood for us in that hallway.
One afternoon, I sat on the porch, reading a local paper. My eyes stopped on a headline from a Chicago publication, flown in by a friend.
MORETTI EMPIRE DISSOLVES: BILLIONAIRE RETIRES TO PRIVATE LIFE.
There was a photo of him, older, grayer, sitting in a garden, not a wheelchair in sight. He looked at peace.
I put the paper down, looking out over the Mediterranean. I wondered if he ever thought about the cookie. I wondered if he still had Mr. Rabbit.
“Mama?” Emma asked, running up to me with a handful of wildflowers. “Look what I found.”
I took the flowers, breathing in their scent. “They’re beautiful, sweetheart.”
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“Can we go visit the Cookie Man now?” she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
I smiled, picking her up and hugging her close. “Maybe someday, Emma. Maybe someday.”
