---- Chapter 21 Isabella POV: "You have no obligation to him," Elena said, her hand resting on my arm. "Your life is here. With us." "| know," | said, and a genuine smile touched my lips. "And | am so grateful for it." The news of Gio's impending death was like a story from a distant land, about a person | once knew. It didn't touch the peace | had so carefully, so fiercely, built for myself. My vendetta had not been about his destruction, but about my own salvation. | had found it. His journey was his own. Life went on. My village was a community, a true family. | hosted dinners in my small cottage, the rooms filled with laughter and the aroma of good food. | was surrounded by a different kind of power-the power of friendship, of shared art, of quiet, ordinary joy. Luca arrived from Lisbon the next weekend, a bouquet of wild sea lavender in his hand. He didn't mention Gio. He didn't offer condolences for a life | no longer lived. He just looked at me, his eyes full of a quiet, steady warmth. "| saw your new collection online," he said, his voice soft. "It's your best work yet. There's so much light in it." ---- That evening, as we walked along the beach, the waves whispering at our feet, he stopped and took my hand. "Isabella," he said. "I would like to take you to dinner. A real date." For the first time, | felt a flicker. A warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with the sun. A small, tentative opening. "I'd like that," | said. Our relationship grew slowly, organically, like one of the sturdy olive trees that dotted the landscape. It was built on respect, on shared passions, on the simple pleasure of each other's company. One evening, he spread a map across my kitchen table. "| have to travel for work," he said. "To galleries in Kyoto, then Buenos Aires, then Cape Town. It will be a long trip." "That sounds wonderful," | said, a little sadly. "Come with me," he said, his eyes serious. "Not as my girlfriend. Not as my partner. Just as you. As Isabella Rossi, the brilliant photographer. We can travel the world together, and you can be as free as you need to be. No expectations. No demands." | thought of Gio, of the gilded cage he had kept me in. Of a love that was about possession, about control. A love that saw me as an anchor, something to hold him in place. Luca was offering the opposite. He was offering a love that was about flight. About shared skies. ---- | looked at him, this kind, patient man who saw all of me-the scars and the light-and was not afraid. Who didn't want to own me, but simply to be near me. "Yes," | whispered, the word feeling like the first day of spring. "Yes, | will." He smiled, a beautiful, brilliant thing. He didn't kiss me. Instead, he simply squeezed my hand, a promise of a shared journey, an equal partnership. We stood on my terrace, looking out at the vast, open ocean. My past was a distant shore, a memory that no longer had the power to harm me. My future was the horizon, limitless and bright. | was not a Don's queen. | was the queen of my own life. And | was finally, truly, home.