The silence inside the music room was thicker than the dust settling over the broken door latch.

Three weeks passed, but to the people of Chicago, it felt as though an entire era had ended overnight.

The headlines of the Chicago Tribune had dominated the news cycles for days: MAJOR SHIPPING FRAUD RING UNCOVERED: PROMINENT ATTORNEY ARTHUR COLE AND DAUGHTER ARRESTED IN FEDERAL RACKETEERING SWEEP. The articles detailed how federal authorities, acting on an anonymous tip containing thousands of encrypted documents, had seized over seventy million dollars in illegal assets and frozen dozens of offshore accounts tied to the late Dominic Vance.

At the Moretti estate, the dark shadow that had hung over the house for months had completely lifted.

The iron gates were open to the morning sun. The security detail was back to its standard, discreet presence, and the scent of fresh ocean air drifted through the open windows of the second-floor conservatory.

Isabella Moretti sat in her high-backed armchair, wrapped in a soft cashmere shawl. Her recovery over the past three weeks had amazed even Dr. Mercer. With the stress of Vivien’s presence gone, and under Naomi’s constant, attentive care, her speech was slowly returning.

"N... Naomi," Isabella rasped, her left hand pointing toward the small tea table beside her.

"Yes, Mrs. Moretti?" Naomi asked, stepping over with a tray of fresh chamomile tea and lemon slices.

"More... sugar," Isabella said, her voice quiet, but clear enough that no one could misunderstand her.

Naomi smiled, dropping a small sugar cube into the porcelain cup. "You're getting better every day, Mrs. Moretti. The speech therapist said yesterday that you'll be speaking in full sentences by summer."

Isabella took a sip of the warm tea, then looked up as the heavy oak doors of the conservatory opened.

Luca walked in. He was wearing a sharp charcoal suit, his hair neatly styled, looking every bit the refined executive who ran the city’s largest logistics firm. But when he looked at his mother and Naomi, the hard, unyielding expression he wore in the boardroom melted away completely.

He walked over, bending down to kiss his mother’s cheek. "How is she today, Naomi?"

"She’s demanding more sugar in her tea," Naomi replied with a small laugh, setting the teapot down. "Which means she’s feeling wonderful."

Isabella chuckled—a soft, musical sound—and reached out to tap Luca’s arm twice. One, two. A signal of peace.

"I just finished the final closing meeting with the board," Luca said, sitting on the bench across from them. "The shipping terminal merger is officially complete. The other families signed the peace treaty this morning. There won't be any more bloodshed on the docks."

"And the trial?" Naomi asked softly.

"Arthur Cole signed a full plea agreement an hour ago," Luca reported, his eyes hardening slightly. "He’s taking twenty-five years without parole. Vivien’s legal team tried to plead mental incompetence, but the video recording from your phone was admitted as primary evidence yesterday. The judge denied bail. She’s going to state prison for twelve years."

Isabella let out a long, quiet breath, leaning her head back against the cushion, closing her eyes as if a final, heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders forever.

Luca stood up, looking at Naomi. "Walk with me through the garden?"