Chapter 8 - Healing Old Wounds
Two weeks later, the snow in Boston had settled into a soft, glowing blanket across the city.
The threats had been cleared. Victor was serving a life sentence in a high-security facility, Corvo’s empire was liquidated into a charitable trust, and the Russo family was firmly under Dante’s absolute, undisputed control. But the true work had just begun: rebuilding a family out of seven years of trauma.
Dante purchased a breathtaking, historic estate overlooking the water in Marblehead, far away from the dark alleys of the North End. The house featured sprawling gardens, massive floor-to-ceiling windows, and a warm, glowing fireplace in every room.
In the spacious living room, three brand-new easels stood near the window. Clara, Mia, and Lily were dressed in bright, colorful sweaters, smearing vibrant oil paints onto white canvases.
Dante sat on the floor with them, covered in spots of red and blue paint, clumsily trying to paint a horse for Lily.
"That doesn't look like a horse, Daddy," Lily giggled, pointing a paint-covered finger at his attempt. "It looks like a big dog!"
"It's a dog-horse," Dante corrected with a straight face, making the three girls burst into chorus of tiny, breathless laughter.
Elena walked into the room carrying a tray of hot chocolate and fresh cookies. She stopped in the doorway, watching the man who had once been known as the most terrifying figure in New England letting a six-year-old girl draw a yellow star on his forehead with washable paint.
She walked over, setting the tray down, and knelt beside him. "You missed a spot," she whispered, kissing his cheek right where a stroke of green paint sat.
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"I can hire the best artists in Europe to teach them," Dante murmured, leaning into her touch. "But they keep asking me to draw."
"Because you're their father," Elena said softly, resting her head against his shoulder. "They don't care about the suits or the estate, Dante. They just care that you come home."
