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With each play she’s written, she’s brought out more of her own past. The audience is captivated, hanging on every word, every emotion portrayed on stage.
When the final scene concludes, the theater erupts into a standing ovation.
The applause is thunderous, a testament to Isabella’s talent as a playwright. I turn to look at her, her eyes shining with a mixture of pride and joy.
“You did it again, Isabella,” I whisper, my voice filled with admiration. “Your story, it’s touched so many.”
She smiles, a look of contentment on her face. “It’s our journey, Dominic. From shadows to light. And this is just the beginning.”
“You mean there’ll be a sequel?”
“Maybe child number three?”
The rest of the evening is a blur of congratulations and celebrations. Friends, family, and admirers approach us, praising Isabella’s work.
As the crowd starts to thin and we prepare to leave, Isabella turns to me, her expression earnest. “None of this would have been possible without your love and support, Dominic. You gave me the strength to turn my experiences into something meaningful.”
She lowers her voice. “And you spanking me every time I got distracted was a big help.”
* * *
It’s a bright, sunny afternoon, a few days after enjoying the success of Isabella’s play. Our New York home is filled with the sound of laughter and the innocent chatter of our four-year-old child and our two year old.
Two lively and curious souls with a penchant for exploring every nook and cranny of our spacious garden. Pietro and Sophia. The reason my heart is so light despite the darkness of my work.
As I sit on the garden bench, watching them play, I’m struck by the profound transformation in my life.
Pietro, at four years old, is a bundle of energy, chasing after butterflies with a curiosity that knows no bounds.
Sophia, two years younger, sits nearby, meticulously arranging pebbles into patterns, her focus and attention to detail mirroring my own.
The days of navigating the murky waters of the mafia feel like a lifetime ago. Now, my world revolves around legitimate business ventures and providing a safe, prosperous future for my family.
Isabella joins me, her eyes following our children with a mixture of love and amusement.
“What do you think they’ll be when they grow up?” I ask.
“Pietro is going to be an explorer, I think,” she says, a smile playing on her lips. “And Sophia, well, she might just be an artist or an architect with that focus of hers.”
I can’t help but laugh. “He certainly has your sense of adventure, and she seems to have inherited my penchant for detail.”
Isabella’s expression turns more serious. “Dominic, the changes you’ve made, leaving so much of your past behind for a legitimate life... it means the world to me, to all of us.”
I nod, my gaze drifting back to Pietro and Sophia. “It’s the only way. I want them to grow up in a world where they don’t have to worry, where they can chase butterflies or arrange pebbles without a care.”
As if on cue, Pietro runs over, a dandelion in his hand and a bright smile on his face. “Look, Daddy, Mommy! I found a magic flower!” His voice is filled with excitement and wonder.
“I make castle,” Sophia chimes in, holding up a small arrangement of stones she’s put together.
I take the dandelion from Pietro and admire Sophia’s stone castle. “You both are amazing,” I say, and they beam with pride.
The evening unwinds in a flurry of laughter and family warmth. We play board games on the living room floor, Pietro’s competitive streak emerging as he tries to outsmart us.
Sophia, with her gentle nature, seems more interested in the colors and shapes of the game pieces.
Later, we settle into cozy armchairs, reading their favorite stories, their little faces alight with wonder and excitement at each turn of the page.
These simple, unadorned moments with Isabella, Pietro, and Sophia are what I cherish most.
