Chapter 7 - The Two Men Who Destroyed Our Families
The two Salvatores had built everything.
They had played both families against each other.
They had manipulated the shipping routes.
They had arranged my mother's death.
They had killed my father.
And for seventeen years, everyone had blamed Gabriel's family.
The final evidence was enough to destroy them.
But they still had Leo.
And they had one final weapon.
The garage.
They planned to burn it.
We arrived twenty minutes too late.
Flames climbed the roof.
I screamed.
Dad's garage.
My childhood.
Everything.
Gabriel grabbed me.
“Stay back.”
“No.”
“You'll get hurt.”
“I don't care.”
He looked at me.
“I do.”
That stopped me.
He entered the burning building.
I watched helplessly.
Minutes passed.
Then he emerged carrying an old metal box.
The ledger.
He collapsed onto the pavement.
I ran to him.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“You're bleeding.”
“It's nothing.”
“You could have died.”
He looked at me.
“But I didn't.”
The fire department arrived.
The garage burned for hours.
By sunrise, almost everything was gone.
I stood in the ashes.
Gabriel stood beside me.
“I’m sorry.”
I shook my head.
“Dad's garage is gone.”
“No.”
He pointed.
The brick walls still stood.
“The building survived.”
I looked at him.
“We rebuild.”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
We rebuilt Moretti Auto.
But first, we finished the war.
Dario turned state's evidence.
Bianca testified.
Leo apologized.
He entered a recovery program.
My grandfather publicly revealed the truth.
The two Salvatores were arrested.
The network collapsed.
Gabriel sold his remaining illegal holdings.
He kept one shipping company.
Not for power.
For legitimate work.
Six months later, the garage reopened.
The sign was new.
MORETTI AUTO.
Underneath, in smaller letters:
FOUNDED BY ANTONIO MORETTI.
My father's name.
I cried when I saw it.
Gabriel stood beside me.
“You like it?”
“I love it.”
He smiled.
Then he handed me the keys.
“All yours.”
“What about you?”
“I have another surprise.”
We walked inside.
The garage had modern lifts.
New tools.
A waiting room.
And a small office with my father's photographs on the wall.
I stared.
“You did this.”
“We did.”
I turned toward him.
“Thank you.”
He touched my cheek.
“I would do it again.”
“You're too good to me.”
He smiled.
“You still call me a dead octopus.”
“Only when you deserve it.”
He laughed.
We kissed.
The next challenge came from the outside world.
Reporters discovered the Costa and Moretti families had once been connected to organized crime.
Our names filled newspapers.
People asked questions.
Some answers were ugly.
Some were painful.
But we told the truth.
Gabriel admitted everything.
The crimes he had committed.
The crimes he had stopped.
The men he had helped bring down.
He accepted legal consequences for what was his.
He refused to let me defend him.
That was the moment I knew he had changed.
Not because he was innocent.
Because he was willing to be accountable.
When the case was over, Gabriel returned home.
He didn't own half the city anymore.
He owned a legitimate company.
A brownstone.
A motorcycle.
And a woman who still yelled at him when he forgot to eat.
One night, he sat at the kitchen table.
I placed a plate in front of him.
“You're late.”
“I had a meeting.”
“You had three.”
“You checked?”
“I run your schedule now.”
He smiled.
“Bossy.”
“I learned from the best.”
He reached for my hand.
“I have something to ask you.”
I knew before he said it.
“You're nervous.”
“I am.”
“Gabriel Costa doesn't get nervous.”
“You make me nervous.”
My heart raced.
He stood.
Then dropped to one knee.
I covered my mouth.
“Francesca Moretti.”
I was crying already.
“You walked into my office and called me a dead octopus.”
I laughed.
“That wasn't romantic.”
“Wait.”
He opened a small box.
Inside was a simple gold ring.
“I thought I would spend the rest of my life protecting things.”
He looked at me.
“Then you taught me the difference between protecting someone and loving them.”
I cried harder.
“Marry me.”
“Yes.”
He stood.
May you like
I threw my arms around him.
For once, the city could wait.
