Chapter 25 Final Chapter
Chapter 25 Final Chapter
Lola
The first indication that something was wrong wasn’t noise, chaos, or destruction. It was the complete and utter absence of all three.
Lola paused halfway down the hallway, one hand resting lightly against the wall as she listened to the silence stretching through the penthouse. Warm late-afternoon sunlight spilled across the marble floors in long golden ribbons, softening the sharp edges of the suite and painting everything in that deceptively peaceful glow Vegas seemed to perfect right before sunset. Normally, by this hour, the place was alive. Someone was running, someone was yelling, and something expensive was being climbed on, weaponized, or broken in a way that would somehow be explained with complete confidence five minutes later.
Today there was nothing. No tiny footsteps, no arguing, no suspicious crashes followed by suspiciously innocent silence. Just stillness hanging thick in the air.
Lola narrowed her eyes slowly.
“Oh no.”
She pushed away from the wall and continued forward, her pace careful and deliberate as she scanned the penthouse with growing suspicion. The living room appeared untouched at first glance. Pillows remained arranged on the sectional, the low table sat perfectly clear, and the floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the skyline back at her in smooth sheets of gold and glass. It was too clean, too quiet, and that alone was enough to tell her the twins were absolutely up to something.
Barefoot, she crossed the room soundlessly, her gaze sweeping over every detail. “Dom?” she called, not loudly.
No answer.
“Annika?”
Nothing.
Her suspicion settled into certainty. They were here; they were simply choosing not to be heard, which somehow felt infinitely more threatening.
She turned toward the kitchen, moving with the cautious patience of a woman who had learned through painful experience that rushing only gave four-year-olds more time to escalate their crimes. At first glance, the kitchen looked untouched. The island gleamed beneath the pendant lights, the stools were neatly tucked beneath the counter, and the fruit bowl sat exactly where she’d left it earlier.
Then she noticed the chair.
It sat just slightly crooked. Not enough for anyone else to register, but enough for her. Her gaze dropped lower, following faint streaks across the marble floor that looked less like dirt and more like evidence. Something had clearly been dragged across the surface with painstaking care, a trail from chair to counter, counter to island. Lola’s eyes lifted slowly toward the countertop, where a fine dusting of flour lingered near the edge beside one very obvious tiny handprint.
She closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them again, her voice was calm in the deeply dangerous way only mothers mastered.
“Alright,” she said, stepping fully into the kitchen. “I know you’re in here.”
Silence answered her.
Then came a whisper, low and urgent, followed immediately by the unmistakable sound of crunching.
Lola turned her head slowly toward the lower cabinet beneath the island, the one they had been explicitly forbidden from climbing into after “the Tupperware avalanche incident” six months ago. The door sat almost fully closed, but not quite. Just enough of a gap remained to betray them.
She crossed the room, crouched in front of it, and knocked lightly against the wood.
“Open it.”
Nothing.
She knocked again, softer this time. “I’m counting to three.”
Still silence.
Lola sighed. “Three.”
The cabinet door creaked open with agonizing slowness until two identical sets of dark eyes blinked up at her from the shadows.
Cookie crumbs covered absolutely everything.
Domenico Vincenzo Marchesi froze first, cheeks puffed suspiciously full as though he’d attempted to fit an entire cookie into his mouth at once and was now deeply regretting both the ambition and the consequences. Chocolate smeared one cheek while his dark hair stuck up wildly in every direction, making him look faintly electrocuted.
Beside him, Annika Dorothea Marchesi appeared significantly less concerned about the situation. She held one cookie in each hand, another tucked neatly into her cheek, and smiled brightly.
“Hi, Mommy.”
Lola stared at them for a long moment.
“You’re in a cabinet.”
“No we’re not,” Dom argued immediately, words muffled.
Annika nodded solemnly. “This is hiding.”
“That is the same thing.”
“No it’s not.”
“It literally is.”
Dom shook his head with complete conviction. “Hiding is better.”
Annika leaned forward, lowering her voice as though sharing classified information. “We were being quiet.”
“I noticed.” Lola reached forward and tapped Dom lightly on the cheek. “Spit it out before you choke.”
He shook his head stubbornly.
She raised an eyebrow.
After several seconds of determined resistance, he swallowed dramatically, coughed once, and immediately looked offended by the entire experience.
Annika patted his back with enormous importance. “You almost died.”
“I did not.”
“You did a little.”
Lola sat back on her heels and folded her arms. “Where did the cookies come from?”
Both children froze instantly.
Then, in perfect unison, they pointed behind her.
“Baba.”
Lola tipped her head back toward the ceiling. Of course. Naturally.
She looked back down at them slowly. “And why are you hiding in a cabinet to eat them?”
Dom hesitated, but Annika answered immediately.
“Because you said no.”
“That’s correct.”
“So we came in here.”
“That’s not how rules work.”
Dom leaned forward. “It worked though.”
Annika nodded proudly. “We got four.”
“Five,” Dom corrected.
“You ate the big one!”
“You said I could!”
“I said maybe!”
“You said yes!”
Lola pressed two fingers against her temple. “No. We are not doing this right now.”
She stood slowly and pointed toward the open floor. “Out.”
Neither moved.
“Out.”
This time they complied, crawling from the cabinet before climbing onto the stools with complete innocence, as though they hadn’t just been caught conducting covert dessert operations beneath the kitchen island.
Lola grabbed a napkin and wiped chocolate from Dom’s face. He squirmed dramatically.
“I’m clean.”
“You’re sticky.”
“…a little.”
Annika leaned over helpfully. “He’s very sticky.”
“I’m not!”
“You are.”
Lola opened her mouth to respond just as the elevator chimed.
All three of them froze.
The twins’ heads snapped toward the sound instantly.
Then—
“BABAAAAAA!”
They launched off the stools like missiles.
Gone.
Lola straightened slowly just as the elevator doors opened and Dottie stepped out, cane tapping lightly against the marble floor.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Well,” Dottie said dryly as two small bodies slammed into her legs, “there they are.”
Annika looked up immediately. “Baba! We got in trouble.”
Dottie’s gaze lifted toward Lola with slow, terrifying precision.
“For what?”
Dom pointed dramatically toward the kitchen. “For eating the cookies you gave us.”
A dangerous silence settled over the room before Dottie turned fully toward Lola.
“Oh, absolutely not.”
Lola threw both hands up. “They were hiding in a cabinet!”
“They were eating,” Dottie snapped. “Which is what children do.”
“They had five cookies.”
“Then they needed six.”
“Baba—”
The cane swung out instantly.
Smack.
Lola jumped backward. “HEY—”
“Do not starve my grandchildren.”
“I am not starving them!”
“Debatable.”
Behind Dottie, Dom threw both fists into the air triumphantly. “BABA WINS!”
Annika clapped enthusiastically. “You got hit.”
“You two are not helping yourselves,” Lola informed them.
“We’re helping Baba,” Annika corrected.
Dottie nodded approvingly. “Exactly.”
Then she tapped her cane toward the hallway. “Training.”
Both twins gasped like she’d just announced Christmas.
“JUJUTSU!”
They tore down the hallway immediately.
Lola stood there for one long second before sighing deeply. Four years ago she had survived kidnappings, torture, interrogations, and mafia wars, and somehow this was harder.
She followed after them. “Don’t run!”
They ran faster.
Their laughter echoed through the penthouse, loud and bright and entirely unapologetic, and despite herself—despite the exhaustion and chaos and constant destruction they brought with them—Lola felt herself smiling anyway.
The penthouse wasn’t quiet anymore.
Not even close.
By the time Lola reached the training level, she already knew two things with absolute certainty: the twins were not going to listen, and Dottie was almost certainly going to encourage whatever behavior had caused the problem in the first place.
The double doors stood open before she even reached them, the muted thud of movement and the soft scuff of bare feet against padded flooring echoing faintly into the hallway. Years ago, the training room had been cold and clinical, built more for efficiency than comfort, but over time it had evolved into something far more lived-in. The harsh edges had softened, the floors were fully padded wall to wall now, mirrors lined one side of the room, and equipment had been carefully organized out of reach unless supervised.
Even so, it remained unmistakably a place built for discipline, which only made the scene waiting for her infinitely more ridiculous.
“AGAIN!” Dom shouted at full volume.
“I AM GOING AGAIN,” Annika snapped back immediately.
“No, you’re not—it’s my turn!”
“It’s always your turn!”
Lola stopped in the doorway and took in the scene before her.
The instructor—poor man—stood near the center of the mat looking like he had reconsidered his career path at least six times in the last ten minutes. Dom was planted directly in front of him with all the confidence of a seasoned fighter entering a title match, feet spread wide, fists raised dramatically despite the fact that none of his limbs appeared to be communicating with one another correctly yet.
Off to the side, Annika stood with her arms crossed, already judging everyone involved with an expression disturbingly similar to Enzo’s.
And Dottie sat comfortably just beyond the edge of the mat with her cane resting across her lap like a queen observing her court, watching the entire disaster unfold with completely undisguised pride.
“There you are,” Dottie said without bothering to look toward Lola. “Your son is about to take a man down.”
“He is four,” Lola replied flatly.
As if determined to prove Dottie correct, Dom immediately launched himself forward.
There was nothing technically impressive about the attack. It lacked coordination, balance, and any real understanding of momentum. What it did possess, however, was absolute commitment.
The instructor caught him gently before impact, steady hands landing on Dom’s shoulders as he redirected him upright again with practiced patience.
“Control,” the instructor said carefully. “Right now we’re focusing on balance first—”
“I had balance,” Dom argued.
“You ran directly into me.”
“That was strategy.”
Annika snorted loudly from the side of the mat.
“That was not strategy.”
Dom rounded on her instantly. “You’re just mad because you can’t do it.”
“I can do it better.”
“Then do it.”
“I will.”
“Then go.”
“I AM GOING.”
“Enough,” the instructor said, louder this time.
Neither child paid him the slightest bit of attention.
Annika shoved past Dom with her shoulder and stepped onto the mat. “My turn.”
“That was not your turn!”
“It is now.”
Dom gasped like she had personally betrayed him.
“BABA,” he shouted dramatically. “She’s cheating.”
Dottie didn’t even blink.
“Then cheat better,” she said calmly.
Lola closed her eyes briefly because of course that was her answer. Naturally.
Annika positioned herself in front of the instructor, chin tilted upward slightly, dark eyes sharp and assessing in a way that was becoming increasingly familiar.
“Ready,” she announced.
The instructor hesitated, only slightly, then nodded.
“Okay,” he said cautiously. “Show me your stance.”
Annika adjusted her footing immediately. It was noticeably better than Dom’s, more balanced and controlled, every movement intentional instead of explosive.
Lola felt a small flicker of pride before she could stop herself.
“Good,” the instructor said encouragingly. “Now we’re going to—”
Annika stepped forward before he could finish, not recklessly, but testing. Feeling. The instructor mirrored the movement, guiding her through the shift in balance and weight while carefully redirecting her momentum instead of blocking it outright.
At the edge of the mat, Dom bounced impatiently on his toes, incapable of remaining still for longer than five consecutive seconds.
“I can do that,” he muttered.
“No, you can’t,” Annika replied without even looking at him.
“I can too.”
“You just run at people.”
“That’s not true.”
“You literally just ran at him.”
“I was attacking.”
“You fell.”
“I didn’t fall.”
“You slid.”
“That’s different.”
Lola pinched the bridge of her nose.
The instructor guided Annika through the movement again, helping her pivot around him smoothly instead of colliding headfirst into his ribs. She did it once, then again, and then Annika narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“You’re letting me win.”
The instructor blinked. “I’m teaching you.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
Dottie hummed approvingly from her chair. “She’s right.”
Lola lowered her hand slowly. “No, she is not.”
Annika crossed her arms immediately. “You are.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
Dom shoved her shoulder. “You don’t get to argue with the teacher.”
“I’m not arguing. I’m right.”
“You’re always arguing.”
“You’re always wrong.”
“I am not!”
“You are!”
“ENOUGH.”
Lola’s voice cracked cleanly through the room.
Both children froze instantly. The instructor exhaled like someone had just handed him oxygen. Annika looked toward Lola, Dom looked toward Dottie, and Dottie looked directly at Lola with slow consideration before waving her cane lightly toward the mat.
“Continue.”
Lola stared at her. “Continue?”
“They need to learn.”
“They are arguing.”
“They are engaged.”
“They are fighting.”
“They are expressing themselves.”
Lola blinked slowly. “You cannot possibly be serious.”
Dottie raised a single brow. “You think silence is better?”
Lola opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Because, honestly, no. It wasn’t.
She sighed deeply, long-suffering exhaustion settling into her shoulders. “Fine.”
Dom perked up instantly. “Can I go again?”
“No,” Lola and Annika answered simultaneously.
Annika smirked triumphantly. “See?”
Dom turned toward Dottie in outrage. “BABA—”
“You’ll wait your turn,” Dottie said calmly.
He deflated immediately. “…okay.”
Annika stepped back into position and looked at the instructor expectantly. “Again.”
The instructor nodded with the careful caution of a man approaching a potentially dangerous animal.
This time the movement clicked slightly better. There was less hesitation, more control, and while it was still far from graceful, it was noticeably improved.
Lola leaned against the wall with her arms crossed and watched them move through the drills again, watched the way they learned, adapted, and challenged everything around them with relentless energy. Dom bounced impatiently nearby while Annika focused with intense concentration, and Dottie observed quietly from her chair, sharp eyes missing absolutely nothing.
For one brief moment, the room didn’t feel chaotic at all. It felt intentional, built carefully over time into something solid beneath the noise.
A foundation.
Then Dom tripped over his own foot and crashed directly into a training cone.
“I meant to do that,” he announced from the floor.
Annika didn’t even look at him. “You did not.”
“I did.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did a little.”
Lola laughed before she could stop herself, and just like that, the room became loud again, alive again, exactly as it should be.
By the time Lola made it back upstairs, she knew better than to expect peace, but she still paused just outside the kitchen and listened as the penthouse offered up a crash, a yell, and the unmistakable thunder of fast, uneven footsteps overlapping across the marble.
“GET BACK HERE—NO—DON’T—”
Gino.
Lola closed her eyes briefly.
Of course.
She stepped into the kitchen and found that, somewhere between her leaving for the training level and returning, the space had transformed from polished calm into an active disaster zone. A bowl sat tipped on its side, something sticky clinging to the marble in a slow, suspicious slide, while one stool had been knocked halfway over and small footprints tracked through what looked like spilled juice.
Lola didn’t react. She simply reached for a towel.
A blur shot past behind her—Dom, screaming with laughter, a foam training stick clutched in his hand like a weapon.
“I GOT YOU I GOT YOU I GOT YOU—”
“YOU DO NOT HAVE ME—”
Gino sprinted after him a second later, a full-grown man in full panic, suit jacket gone, tie missing, hair slightly disheveled in a way that suggested this had been going on for a while. Annika—Nika when she was being particularly smug, which was often—followed at a much more measured pace, holding her own foam stick with the calm authority of someone orchestrating the entire operation.
“Go left,” she called.
Gino skidded. “WHY WOULD I GO LEFT—”
Dom changed direction instantly. “LEFT LEFT LEFT—”
“That’s a trap!”
“It’s not a trap!”
“It’s always a trap!”
Lola wiped the counter slowly and did not turn around, did not intervene, because whatever was happening here was clearly self-inflicted.
At the far end of the island, Jake sat completely unbothered, laptop open and coffee in hand, watching with the dead-eyed serenity of a man who had already decided he was not emotionally responsible for any of this.
“Statistically,” Jake said without looking up, “you’re making this worse for yourself.”
“I AM NOT TAKING ADVICE FROM YOU RIGHT NOW,” Gino shouted as he vaulted—actually vaulted—over the back of the couch to avoid Dom.
Dom slammed into the cushions half a second later, cackling. “I ALMOST GOT YOU!”
“You did not!”
“I did a little!”
Annika appeared beside the couch as if she had materialized there. “You’re too loud.”
“I’m being hunted!”
“You’re making it easy.”
Gino pointed at her. “You are the mastermind here. I know it.”
She smiled and did not deny it.
Lola folded the towel neatly and set it aside just as Gino made a break for the hallway. He didn’t make it three steps before Dom latched onto his leg with both arms.
Gino froze. “…no.”
“I got you.”
“You did not get me.”
“I’m on you.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
Annika walked up and tapped him lightly with her stick. “You’re out.”
“I am not out.”
“You are.”
“I am absolutely not—”
“Double tap,” she said, tapping him again.
Dom nodded solemnly. “Double tap means out.”
Gino stared at both of them, then up at Lola. “This is a coordinated attack.”
“You agreed to play,” she reminded him.
“I did not agree to be hunted like livestock.”
Jake sipped his coffee. “You did.”
Gino pointed at him. “You’re part of this.”
“I’m documenting.”
“For what?”
Jake finally looked up. “Evidence.”
Dom perked up immediately. “Are we winning?”
Jake considered it for a moment. “Yes.”
Dom pumped one fist into the air. “YES.”
Gino dragged a hand down his face. “I’m going to quit.”
“You say that every week,” Lola said mildly.
“I mean it this time.”
“You don’t.”
“I do.”
Annika tugged on his sleeve. “You’re still out.”
“I’m not out.”
“You are.”
“I’m standing.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“It absolutely counts.”
Dom tightened his hold around Gino’s leg. “You’re captured.”
“I am not—”
“You’re captured.”
“I am literally moving—”
“You’re moving badly.”
Lola bit back a smile.
Jake didn’t bother.
“You should probably surrender.”
Gino turned slowly toward him. “I don’t surrender.”
Annika tilted her head. “Then you lose.”
For one long second, Gino looked at her as though weighing every life choice that had brought him here. Then he sighed, deep and defeated.
“…fine.”
Dom gasped. “HE GAVE UP.”
“I did not give up. I am making a strategic withdrawal.”
“That’s giving up.”
“It’s not.”
“It is.”
“It’s not.”
Lola pushed off the counter and clapped once. “Alright.”
Everything stopped immediately. Gino straightened, Dom released his leg, Annika lowered her stick, and Jake, because he valued consistency, didn’t move at all.
“What are you doing?” Lola asked.
“We were training,” Dom answered first.
“You were chasing your uncle.”
“That’s part of training.”
Annika nodded. “It builds endurance.”
Lola stared at them, then at Gino. “Why are you sweating?”
“I’ve been running for my life.”
“You volunteered.”
“I was tricked.”
“You said yes.”
“I didn’t understand the terms.”
Jake muttered, “You never do.”
Gino shot him a look. “Not helping.”
Lola crossed her arms. “No more running in the penthouse.”
Dom opened his mouth.
“No.”
Annika lifted one finger.
“No.”
They both deflated.
“…okay,” Dom muttered.
A beat passed before he whispered, “We can walk fast.”
“No.”
“Jog?”
“No.”
“Speed walk?”
“No.”
Annika leaned toward him. “We can plan.”
Lola narrowed her eyes. “…no.”
Jake closed his laptop. “I’m going to stay for dinner.”
Lola glanced at him. “You were already staying.”
“I like to confirm.”
Gino dropped onto the couch. “I need a drink.”
“You need a nap,” Lola said.
“I need a new life.”
Dom climbed onto the couch beside him. “You’re still out.”
Gino stared at the ceiling. “I hate it here.”
Annika climbed up on his other side. “You love it.”
He paused.
Then, with deep resentment and absolutely no conviction, he muttered, “…I do.”
Lola turned back toward the kitchen and reached for plates, needing something to do with her hands as the noise gradually began rising again behind her. Dom started explaining something loudly, Annika corrected him immediately, Gino argued on principle, and Jake occasionally commented like a narrator who had given up on the plot.
It was loud, chaotic, completely out of control, and hers.
She glanced over her shoulder just as Dom launched himself off the couch again, Annika already moving to intercept while Gino groaned in anticipation of round two, and Lola smiled because this was what they had built. Not quiet, not clean, not easy, but alive in a way nothing else had ever been.
The front door opened without ceremony, without announcement or warning, just the quiet, familiar click of the lock followed by the low sweep of the door as it pushed inward. Lola didn’t turn right away because she already knew who it was. There was always a shift in the air when Enzo walked into a room, subtle enough that most people would never notice it, but immediate to her. The energy recalibrated around him, focused and centered, as though the entire penthouse instinctively adjusted itself to his presence.
Even chaos paused for him.
For exactly half a second.
Then—
“DADDYYYYYYY!”
Two small bodies launched across the room like heat-seeking missiles.
Enzo barely made it three steps inside before impact. Dom hit him first, full speed and no hesitation, straight into his midsection, while Annika followed a heartbeat later, arms wrapping around his neck with complete confidence that he would catch her.
And he did.
Of course he did.
What he apparently did not account for was the combined force of both children hitting him simultaneously, because the next thing Lola knew, the most powerful man in their world had gone flat onto his back in the middle of the living room without even attempting to save himself from the inevitable.
Lola leaned one hip against the counter and folded her arms loosely as she watched Enzo Marchesi get taken out by two four-year-olds in under three seconds.
Gino sat up on the couch, visibly impressed. “…that was fast.”
Jake didn’t even bother looking up from his laptop. “New record.”
On the floor, Enzo exhaled once through his nose and stared up at the ceiling while his children immediately climbed onto him like they had been denied access to him all day. Annika settled proudly on his chest while Dom claimed one of his arms like captured territory.
“We got you,” Dom announced triumphantly.
Enzo blinked once. “Ambush.”
Annika beamed down at him. “You’re home.”
“I am.”
Dom leaned closer, lowering his voice as if he were sharing highly classified information. “We did training.”
Enzo’s gaze shifted briefly toward Lola before returning to the twins. “I can see that.”
“We won,” Annika added immediately.
Gino scoffed from the couch. “You absolutely did not win.”
“We did,” Annika replied without hesitation.
“You cheated.”
“You lost.”
“I surrendered.”
“That’s losing.”
“It’s not the same thing.”
“It is,” she informed him calmly.
Dom nodded in agreement. “You were captured.”
Enzo closed his eyes briefly before opening them again and looking toward Lola.
She lifted one shoulder in a small, unapologetic shrug. “Your children.”
A quiet sound escaped him, not quite a laugh but close enough to count, before his attention shifted back to the two tiny tyrants currently pinning him to the floor.
“Am I allowed to get up?” he asked mildly.
“No,” Annika answered immediately.
Dom tightened his grip around Enzo’s arm. “You’re still caught.”
“I see.”
He made no attempt to dislodge them. Instead, he adjusted slightly beneath their weight, one hand automatically steadying Annika when she leaned too far forward while shifting his arm so Dom wouldn’t slip off his shoulder.
The movements were instinctive, careful in a way he probably didn’t even realize anymore.
Lola watched those tiny adjustments happen in real time and felt something warm settle low in her chest.
Four years ago, this man had built empires out of control.
Now he made sure his daughter didn’t fall off his ribcage.
“Did you eat?” he asked them.
“Yes,” Dom answered immediately.
“No,” Annika said at the exact same time.
Enzo looked between them. “Which one is lying?”
Dom pointed directly at his sister. “She had more.”
Annika pointed right back at him. “He ate the big one.”
“I did not.”
“You did too.”
“It was equal.”
“It was not equal.”
Enzo looked toward Lola again. “Define ate.”
“They had cookies,” she admitted.
He nodded once, unsurprised. “Of course they did.”
“Baba,” Lola clarified.
That earned another nod. “Of course.”
On the couch, Gino immediately lifted both hands. “I was not involved in that part.”
“You were present,” Lola said.
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It is,” she replied.
Jake finally looked up from his screen. “It’s always the same thing.”
Gino pointed accusingly at him. “You were also here.”
“I wasn’t the one being hunted.”
“That’s because you were hiding.”
“I was sitting.”
“That’s still hiding.”
Annika leaned down closer to Enzo like she was updating him on a serious business matter. “Uncle Gino got caught.”
“I heard.”
“He said it wasn’t losing.”
Enzo considered that for exactly one second before deciding, “He’s wrong.”
Gino sat upright immediately. “Traitor.”
Dom grinned so hard his cheeks rounded. “YOU LOST.”
“I surrendered strategically.”
“You fell.”
“I did not fall.”
“You fell a little.”
Before the argument could escalate any further, Enzo lifted a hand and gently covered Dom’s mouth.
“That’s enough,” he said quietly.
He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t sharpen his tone, didn’t do anything except speak with the calm certainty that somehow carried more authority than yelling ever could.
Dom stilled immediately.
Annika did too.
Lola watched the shift carefully, the way both children settled without fear or hesitation. It wasn’t obedience in the traditional sense. It was trust. They listened because it was him.
Enzo lowered his hand again. “Everyone breathe.”
They obeyed for approximately two seconds before Annika leaned back against his chest and asked, “Are you staying home?”
“I live here.”
“You left.”
“I came back.”
“Why?”
He paused for a moment before glancing toward Lola again.
“For her.”
Annika accepted that answer immediately. “Okay.”
Dom poked Enzo’s arm. “Can we wrestle?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you already did.”
“That wasn’t enough.”
“It was for me.”
Dom frowned thoughtfully while Annika nodded in complete agreement. “He’s tired.”
“I’m not tired,” Enzo replied.
“You’re laying down.”
“I was attacked.”
“That’s still laying down.”
A suspiciously laugh-like noise escaped Gino from the couch.
Lola finally pushed away from the counter and stepped closer, her gaze sweeping over Enzo’s slightly wrinkled shirt, his undone cuff, and the fact that he hadn’t even fully made it into the room before being dismantled by his children.
“You planning to stay down there?” she asked.
He looked up at her, calm and measured as always, though there was something else beneath it now, something warmer and far less innocent than the expression he’d worn thirty seconds earlier.
“I could.”
Her mouth curved slightly. “Seems inefficient.”
“Depends what I’m waiting for.”
Gino sat up immediately. “Oh no.”
Jake closed his laptop. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
Annika looked between them. “What?”
Dom looked too. “What?”
Lola never broke eye contact with Enzo.
“Get up,” she said lightly.
He did, smooth and effortless, lifting both children with him like they weighed absolutely nothing before setting them back onto their feet.
“Go,” Lola added, nodding toward the hallway.
“Where?” Dom asked.
“Anywhere that’s not here.”
Annika squinted suspiciously. “Why?”
Lola smiled sweetly. “Because I said so.”
Both twins immediately looked at Enzo for confirmation.
Enzo adjusted his sleeve slowly before saying, “Go.”
That was enough. They took off immediately, loud and fast and entirely unconcerned with indoor volume control.
Gino stood just as quickly. “I’m taking them.”
Lola blinked at him. “You are?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He pointed directly between her and Enzo. “Because whatever is about to happen next, I absolutely do not need to witness.”
Jake was already heading toward the door. “Agreed.”
Annika suddenly skidded back into the room. “Are we leaving?”
“Yes,” Gino answered.
“Where?”
“My place.”
Her entire face lit up. “Sleepover?”
Dom reappeared instantly at the sound of the word. “SLEEPOVER?”
They were halfway out the door before Lola could even respond.
Gino paused only long enough to glance back at her and then at Enzo, a slow grin spreading across his face.
“…don’t break anything expensive.”
The door shut behind them.
Silence fell over the penthouse.
Real silence this time.
Lola exhaled softly before turning back toward Enzo, only to find him already watching her, and this time there was absolutely nothing soft about his expression.
“Snack,” he said.
She smiled immediately. “Technically true.”
He took one slow, measured step toward her. “You left the house.”
“I came back.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It is if I’m standing here.”
Another step brought him closer.
“You think this is funny?”
“I think you’re overreacting.”
“I sent twenty men.”
“For pizza.”
“For you.”
That landed harder than she expected, softening her expression for the briefest moment before her smile returned, dangerous and bright.
“Catch me,” she said.
Then she turned and ran.
Enzo didn’t hesitate.
He followed.
The quiet didn’t feel empty so much as earned.
By the time they made it back to the bedroom, the chaos of the evening had settled into the walls again, as though it had never truly left at all and had merely paused long enough to grant them this small pocket of stillness. Lola slipped easily from Enzo’s hold, not to escape him, but simply to move, to breathe, to let the sharp edges of the night soften into something gentler. She tugged her shirt over her head as she crossed the room and tossed it carelessly over the back of a chair already burdened with too many things that had been abandoned there for later.
Enzo watched her openly.
He didn’t pretend otherwise, didn’t look away or fill the silence with unnecessary conversation. Instead, he leaned back against the edge of the dresser with his arms loose at his sides, taking her in with the same unwavering focus he always had, though there was something different about it now—something quieter, steadier, stripped clean of the sharp urgency that had once lived beneath his every glance.
Lola caught the look when she turned back toward him, and the corner of her mouth curved faintly.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“That’s not nothing.”
His gaze remained fixed on her. “It’s you.”
She rolled her eyes softly, though warmth had already settled across her expression. “That was dangerously close to being sweet.”
“I can fix that.”
“Don’t.”
He still didn’t move toward her immediately, and she realized after a moment that neither of them felt any need to rush. For the first time in a long time, there was no urgency pressing at their backs, no interruption waiting on the other side of the door, no voices calling for them from somewhere down the hall.
There was only this.
Lola climbed into bed first, pulling the covers back and settling onto her side with a quiet sigh as the mattress dipped beneath her weight. She watched him from there while he remained near the dresser for another moment, thoughtful in a way that made her curious.
“Are you just going to stand there?” she asked.
“Thinking.”
“About what?”
He pushed away from the dresser then, moving slowly as he shed the last remnants of the day—his watch abandoned on the nightstand, his shirt discarded somewhere between the door and the bed, tension unwinding from him piece by piece.
“You leaving,” he said simply.
Lola huffed softly. “I came back.”
“You did.”
“I always do.”
“I know.”
He slid into bed beside her a moment later, the mattress shifting beneath his weight as one arm immediately wrapped around her and pulled her closer with effortless familiarity.
Automatic.
Like breathing.
Lola curled easily into his side, resting one hand against his chest where she could feel the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palm. For a while, neither of them spoke. Beyond the glass, the city hummed faintly in the distance, muted and unimportant compared to the quiet warmth surrounding them here.
“They’re a lot,” she murmured eventually.
Enzo didn’t answer right away. His hand drifted slowly along her back instead, moving in a steady rhythm that felt grounding in ways she couldn’t fully explain.
“They’re ours,” he said at last.
She smiled against him. “I know.”
A comfortable silence stretched between them before Lola let out a soft laugh.
“I think Dom genuinely tried to take down his instructor tonight.”
“He did.”
“And Annika spent the entire time telling him he was doing it wrong.”
“She was correct.”
Lola tipped her head back enough to look at him. “She always thinks she’s correct.”
“She usually is.”
A quiet laugh escaped her as she pressed her face lightly against his chest again. “That’s terrifying.”
“It’s accurate.”
His fingers stilled briefly against her back before resuming their slow movement.
“She gets that from you,” he added.
“And Dom gets the chaos from you.”
“That’s also accurate.”
They drifted back into silence after that, but it was never uncomfortable between them. It was simply stillness, the kind built from years of learning each other so completely that words stopped feeling necessary every second of the day.
Lola traced absent patterns against his chest before speaking again.
“You didn’t freak out.”
“I did.”
“No,” she murmured softly. “Not like before.”
He was quiet for a moment.
Then, finally, “I learned.”
She lifted her head slightly to look at him. “From?”
His gaze met hers evenly.
“You.”
The answer landed differently than she expected. Not heavily, not painfully—just honestly.
Lola’s expression softened as she studied him, something quieter settling behind her eyes.
“You used to try to control everything,” she said gently.
“I still do.”
“Not like that.”
A faint nod. “No.”
Her fingers stilled where they rested against his chest. “And now?”
He didn’t hesitate.
“Now I keep what matters safe.”
Emotion tightened unexpectedly in her throat. “Same thing,” she whispered.
“Not even close.”
And because she understood the difference now, she didn’t argue.
Years ago, Enzo had tried to control the world because he believed survival depended on it. Now he simply protected what they had built inside it.
Lola shifted closer to him, sliding one leg over his as she settled more comfortably against his side.
“You’re still not letting me leave at two in the morning, are you?”
“No.”
“Even if I really want something?”
“No.”
“Even if it’s important?”
“No.”
She smiled against his chest. “You’re impossible.”
“You married me.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“You did.”
“I chose wrong.”
A soft huff of amusement escaped him. “Liar.”
She tilted her head enough to press a small kiss against his chest. “Yeah,” she murmured.
Another quiet stretch passed between them before a loud crash echoed faintly from somewhere down the hall, immediately followed by shrieking voices.
“UNCLE GINO—NO—”
“GET OFF THE TABLE—”
“JAKE SAID WE COULD—”
“I DID NOT SAY THAT—”
Lola closed her eyes.
Enzo didn’t even move.
“…they’re not sleeping,” she observed.
“No.”
“We should probably—”
“No.”
A laugh slipped from her before she could stop it. “Wow.”
“I gave them to Gino.”
“You really did.”
“He made a choice.”
“That’s cold.”
“That’s survival.”
She smiled again, then sighed softly as her body relaxed fully against his.
For the first time in a very long time, Lola didn’t feel like she had to hold everything together anymore—not the chaos, not the future, not even him. Somewhere along the way, they had built something capable of holding itself.
She tilted her head upward and brushed a soft kiss against his lips, gentle and unhurried.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“You’re my whole life,” he said, so quietly she almost didn’t catch it.
Her breath hitched just a little. “That was better.”
His mouth curved faintly. “Than what?”
“Than whatever smug little answer you almost gave me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You absolutely do.”
He kissed her before she could keep arguing, soft and warm and patient enough to end the conversation before it turned into something else entirely. When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against hers.
“Say it again,” he murmured.
Her expression softened immediately. “I love you.”
“Good.”
“Better,” she whispered.
He exhaled quietly, his arm tightening around her just slightly as the noise down the hall faded into the background—or maybe they simply stopped paying attention to it.
Either way, it no longer mattered, because here, in this room, in this bed, in this moment, they were steady, they were whole, and they were theirs.
Somehow, after everything they had survived, after all the chaos and grief and impossible odds stacked against them, they had still managed to build a life anyway.