Keep reading to see what unfolds next.

14 - 15

Years passed with the quiet, inexorable dignity of a dynasty firmly entrenched in its own soil. The Varric syndicate evolved, shifting its operations away from the violent shadows of the underworld and into legitimate global logistics, philanthropy, and urban development, securing a political and financial foundation that made federal prosecutors and rival bosses alike view the name Varric with respectful, untouchable distance.

Inside the grand mansion on the hill, the echoes of the past had long since faded into family lore.

On a crisp autumn afternoon, four-year-old Nico Varric sat at the base of the grand staircase, busily sketching with a box of colored crayons on a massive pad of paper. His dark hair fell across his forehead, and those large, shimmering, curious eyes were fixed intently on his masterpiece.

Liana descended the staircase, dressed in an emerald silk blouse and tailored trousers, carrying a stack of architectural blueprints for a new community hospital she was personally funding downtown—a hospital designed to ensure no mother would ever walk out of a maternity ward with a box of dirt and pine shavings again.

She stopped on the bottom step, looking down at her son.

"What are you drawing, Nico?" she asked gently, sitting down on the marble step beside him.

Nico held up the drawing proudly. It wasn't a monster or a superhero. It was a remarkably detailed picture of three figures standing beneath a bright sun: a tall man with broad shoulders, a woman with a protective smile, and a little boy holding a silver medallion in his hand.

"That's us," Nico announced proudly, pointing his blue crayon at the figures. "And nobody can ever take us away, because Daddy's guards have big shields."

Liana felt a lump rise in her throat, a wave of profound, overwhelming gratitude washing over her soul. She leaned over and kissed the top of his head. "That's right, my sweet boy. Nobody."

Footsteps echoed from the hallway as Matteo walked in from the courtyard, tossing his suit jacket over his shoulder. He stopped when he saw them sitting together on the marble stairs, the golden autumn sunlight streaming through the arched windows behind them, illuminating the scene like a Renaissance painting.

Matteo walked over, dropping down on the step beside Liana and pulling both of them into his arms.

"What’s this masterpiece?" Matteo asked, looking down at the drawing with a warm, approving grin.

"It’s our family," Nico declared simply, before scrambling up and running off toward the playroom to show Marco his artwork.

Matteo watched him go, then turned his dark eyes toward Liana. The man who had once ruled the underworld with fear and iron fists looked at her with a gentleness that belonged only to her.

"You know," Matteo whispered, resting his forehead against hers, "twenty-four months ago, I thought I had everything a man could want—power, money, an empire built on stone and steel."