Chapter 174 – Peace Too Late

Chapter 174 – Peace Too Late

The olive tree arrived just after sunrise.
It was small.
Barely taller than Lucian.
Its roots were wrapped carefully in burlap, and a handwritten note from the nursery read:
“May it grow where peace is planted.”
Lucian insisted on carrying the watering can himself.
“It has to be today,” he declared.
“Grandpa promised.”
Elena exchanged a glance with Damian. Neither wanted to tell him that Matteo was still too weak to leave the intensive care unit.
But hope was a powerful medicine.
Perhaps today…
It would be enough.

The doctors reluctantly agreed.
For thirty minutes.
No more.
Matteo was carefully moved from the hospital room into the estate gardens in a specialized medical wheelchair, his oxygen line discreetly hidden beneath a blanket.
His face was pale.
The effort of simply sitting upright exhausted him.
Yet when he saw Lucian waiting beside the young olive tree, his tired eyes lit up.
“You kept your promise,” Lucian said proudly.
Matteo smiled.
“So did you.”

The family gathered quietly around them.
Damian stood beside Elena.
Marco, Salvatore, Nikolai, Amara, Malik, Bianca, Captain Rinaldi, and several senior Rossi and Moretti commanders formed a respectful circle.
No weapons were visible.
For once…
No one looked like soldiers.
Only people longing for something they had almost forgotten.
Normal life.

Lucian dug the first handful of earth.
“It needs help,” he announced.
Everyone laughed softly.
One by one, they knelt beside him.
Damian added soil.
Elena adjusted the roots.
Matteo, despite trembling hands, managed to place a final handful of earth around the trunk.
“There.”
he whispered.
“It belongs.”

As Lucian poured water around the tree, Matteo looked toward Damian.
“There was a time…”
he said quietly,
“…when I dreamed our families would build vineyards together.”
Damian smiled faintly.
“My father dreamed of the same thing.”
Matteo nodded.
“We were fools.”
“No.”
Damian replied.
“We were young.”

Nearby, several Moretti captains stood awkwardly across from Rossi soldiers.
Years of hatred lingered between them.
Finally, one of the older Moretti men stepped forward.
He removed the pistol from his belt.
Without a word…
He placed it on a nearby bench.
A Rossi commander stared at him for several seconds.
Then slowly removed his own weapon.
Others followed.
Metal rested against wood.
No threats.
No challenges.
Only silent understanding.

Salvatore smiled to himself.
“About time.”
he murmured.

Marco approached one of the Moretti captains he had fought countless times over the years.
“I still don’t like you.”
Marco admitted.
The older man chuckled.
“I don’t like you either.”
After a pause, they shook hands.
“I suppose that’s enough.”
Marco said.
“It’ll do.”

Even Nikolai found himself laughing with men who had once carried contracts bearing his name.
Malik organized food for both families, refusing to let anyone sit separately.
“Today,” he declared, “everyone eats together.”
No one argued.

For the first time in decades…
Rossis and Morettis shared a table.
Children ran through the gardens without knowing which family they belonged to.
Old women exchanged recipes.
Young guards compared stories from training.
The walls separating generations of hatred began to crumble.

Elena watched it all with tears in her eyes.
She leaned gently against Damian.
“This is what Isabella wanted.”
she whispered.
Damian nodded.
“We’re just many years late.”

Matteo looked toward the newly planted olive tree.
“When it grows…”
he said,
“…promise me no child will ever learn why we hated each other.”
Elena took his hand.
“I promise.”
Damian placed his hand over theirs.
“So do I.”

A soft breeze passed through the gardens.
For the first time in what felt like forever…
The air carried no scent of smoke.
Only fresh earth.
Olive leaves.
And hope.

Then…
The warning sirens screamed.
Every head turned.
Captain Rinaldi instinctively reached for the radio at his belt.
His face drained of color.
“Unidentified aircraft!”
he shouted.
“Three incoming!”

The peaceful garden exploded into movement.
Children screamed.
Guards rushed toward defensive positions.
Parents grabbed their families.
The sound of helicopter blades thundered overhead.

Amara looked into the sky.
“No…”
she whispered.
“They’re drones.”

Military drones.
Fast.
Heavily armed.
Flying directly toward the estate.

“They’re not bombing the walls!”
Marco shouted after studying their flight path.
“They’re targeting the gardens!”

“Everyone move!”
Damian roared.

The first missile struck only fifty meters away.
The explosion shattered windows throughout the estate.
The olive tree bent violently under the shockwave but remained standing.
Smoke swallowed the garden.

Damian threw himself over Elena and Lucian.
Shrapnel rained around them.
The second explosion followed almost immediately.
Stone statues collapsed.
Fountains shattered.
The peaceful gathering became absolute chaos.

Through the smoke, Matteo struggled to stand.
His wheelchair had overturned.
Ignoring the agony tearing through his wounds, he searched desperately.
“Lucian!”
he shouted hoarsely.

The little boy had become separated from Damian and Elena during the blast.
Terrified, he stood frozen beside the damaged olive tree.
Another drone descended.
Its missile doors opened.
Locked directly onto the child.

“No!”
Elena screamed.

Before anyone else could move…
One of the Moretti captains who had shaken hands with Marco moments earlier sprinted toward Lucian.
At the same instant…
A Rossi sniper abandoned his protected position and ran as well.
Former enemies.
Moving together.
Not to fight each other.
To save a child.

The missile struck.
The explosion consumed the area in fire and smoke.
The shockwave knocked everyone to the ground.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Terrifying.

When the dust slowly settled…
Lucian was alive.
Protected beneath the bodies of both men.
The Moretti captain had wrapped himself around the boy.
The Rossi sniper had shielded them both from the blast.
Neither man moved.
Their sacrifice had saved Lucian.

Elena reached her son first.
She pulled him into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably.
Lucian clung to her.
“I’m okay, Mommy…”
he whispered.
“I’m okay.”

Damian knelt beside the fallen men.
One wore a Rossi ring.
The other a Moretti crest.
Their hands had come to rest beside each other.
Almost touching.
He gently moved them together.
Fingers intertwined.
Even in death…
The war between them had ended.

Matteo looked at the two fallen soldiers.
Tears streamed down his weathered face.
“They died…”
he whispered.
“…protecting the same child.”
Salvatore nodded quietly.
“That is peace.”
He looked toward the burning gardens.
“Arriving far too late.”

Emergency teams rushed through the estate.
The drones had been destroyed.
The attack was over.
But its scars would remain forever.
The young olive tree still stood.
Its slender trunk had been scorched by fire.
Half its branches had been stripped away.
Yet…
It had not fallen.
Elena looked at it through tear-filled eyes.
“It survived.”
she whispered.
Damian wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“So will we.”

Far away, inside his underground command center, Alessandro watched footage from the attack.
One adviser looked confused.
“They reconciled before the strike.”
Alessandro nodded.
“I know.”
“It changed nothing.”
The adviser hesitated.
“It may have changed everything.”
Alessandro’s smile faded.
On the screen, Rossis and Morettis worked side by side, carrying the wounded together.
No accusations.
No blame.
Only unity.
For the first time…
A flicker of concern crossed Alessandro’s face.
He quietly switched off the monitor.
“Their peace…”
he murmured,
“…has become more dangerous than their war.”

Beneath the smoke-filled evening sky, Damian looked at the scorched olive tree standing stubbornly amid the ruins.
It had been planted in hope.
Tested by fire.
And somehow…
It still refused to break.
He couldn’t help but think it reminded him of his family.