Chapter 6 - Learning How to Stay
The aftermath of Salvatore Rizzo’s arrest spread through New York like fire through dry grass.
News outlets reported on the federal investigation into corruption at the docks. Business channels speculated about Marco Moretti’s connection to the case. Old enemies disappeared into legal teams and private jets. Former associates called Marco’s office, offering loyalty they had never truly possessed.
Marco ignored most of them.
For the first time, his empire was not the center of his life.
Lily was.
He learned quickly that being a father was more frightening than any negotiation he had ever faced.
He attended her preschool art show wearing a suit worth more than the school’s annual supply budget, only to have Lily inform him that he was “too fancy for finger painting.”
He tried to make pancakes and set off the smoke alarm.
He bought her a miniature black leather jacket, which Naomi immediately banned.
“She’s four, Marco.”
“It was adorable.”
“It had a tiny gold zipper.”
“She liked it.”
“She likes candy for breakfast too. That doesn’t mean she gets it.”
Marco looked genuinely wounded. “You’re very strict.”
Naomi laughed.
It slipped out before she could stop it.
Marco went still, looking at her like she had handed him something precious.
That was the dangerous part.
The ordinary moments.
The mornings when he sat at her kitchen table drinking coffee while Lily explained the politics of preschool friendships.
The evenings when he read bedtime stories in a deep, serious voice until Lily fell asleep against his shoulder.
The way Naomi would catch him staring at their daughter with an expression so full of wonder it made her heart ache.
But trust did not return as easily as love.
One afternoon, Naomi found Marco in his office at the brownstone, speaking in Italian into his phone.
His tone was cold.
Controlled.
The kind of tone that reminded her exactly who he had been before Lily.
When he ended the call, Naomi stood in the doorway.
“Who was that?”
Marco looked up. “A business issue.”
“What kind?”
“The kind you don’t need to worry about.”
Naomi’s face hardened.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Decide what I can handle.”
Marco rose from his chair. “Naomi—”
“No. I spent five years in the dark because powerful men decided I didn’t need the truth.”
“This is different.”
“It never is, with you.”
The words hit him.
She saw it.
And she hated that some part of her still wanted to take them back.
Marco walked around the desk slowly. “A former associate tried to threaten one of my employees. Luca is handling it.”
“Is it connected to us?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Naomi searched his face.
“You promise?”
Marco looked at her for a long moment.
Then he said, “I promise.”
The old Marco would have said it easily.
The new Marco understood what the word cost.
That night, Lily had a nightmare.
She woke crying, calling for both of them.
Naomi reached her room first, but Marco appeared seconds later in the doorway.
Lily clung to Naomi with one hand and reached toward Marco with the other.
“Stay,” she whispered.
Marco sat on the edge of the bed.
“I’m here.”
“Both of you.”
Naomi and Marco exchanged a look.
Then, without speaking, they stayed.
Naomi lay beside Lily. Marco sat in the chair until Lily’s breathing slowed. Hours passed. Rain tapped against the window. The city hummed far below.
Around three in the morning, Naomi woke to find Marco asleep in the chair, his head tilted back, one hand still resting near Lily’s blanket.
He looked exhausted.
Human.
Not a kingpin. Not a feared businessman. Not a beautiful nightmare.
Just a father who was trying.
Naomi stood quietly and placed a blanket over him.
Marco woke instantly.
Their eyes met.
“You don’t have to sleep in that chair,” Naomi whispered.
He looked toward Lily. “She asked me to stay.”
“She did.”
“So I stayed.”
Naomi nodded.
Then she sat on the edge of Lily’s bed.
“Why did you really leave me?” she asked.
Marco’s expression changed.
“I didn’t.”
“You disappeared.”
“My father had me sent to Italy for three days during a crisis. My phone was taken. When I got back, your apartment was empty. Your number was gone. I thought you left because you found out who my father really was.”
Naomi stared at him.
“I was scared,” she admitted.
“I know.”
“I thought you chose your family over me.”
Marco’s voice broke slightly. “Naomi, I would have chosen you.”
The room was quiet.
“I would choose you now,” he added. “But I know I don’t get to demand that.”
Naomi’s eyes filled.
Marco reached for her hand, but stopped before touching it.
She closed the distance herself.
Her fingers slipped into his.
It was not forgiveness.
Not completely.
But it was a beginning.
The next morning, a letter arrived at the brownstone.
No return address.
Inside was a single photograph.
Marco and Lily walking together in Central Park.
Underneath, three words had been written in black ink.
Blood remembers blood.
Marco’s face went still.
Naomi saw the terror he tried to hide.
The war was not over.
Someone else knew.
And this time, they were not asking for money.
May you like
They were coming for the Moretti name.
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