BENEATH THE CHANDELIER

“Mia!” Rocco roared, sprinting out the back door into the alley.

Evelyn’s heart stopped. She ran after him. The alley was empty. Frankie was already on his phone, shouting orders to the security team.

Panic seized Evelyn’s chest. Had Carmine’s men doubled back? Had they grabbed her in the chaos?

She looked frantically around the alley. Then, she noticed a tiny smudge of pink crayon on the brick wall near a heavy, rusted iron door that led down to the old coal cellar.

Evelyn ran to the door and pulled it open. “Mia?” she called into the darkness.

A tiny sniffle echoed from the bottom of the stairs.

Evelyn rushed down, Rocco right behind her. Huddled in the corner, clutching her drawing of the hellhound, was Mia. She was trembling.

“Sweetheart,” Evelyn gasped, dropping to her knees and pulling the girl into a fierce hug.

“I was scared of the bad man,” Mia cried, burying her face in Evelyn’s neck. “I wanted to hide like you and Uncle Rocco did under the table.”

Rocco fell to his knees beside them, wrapping his massive arms around both of them. He buried his face in Mia’s hair, his shoulders shaking with relief. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

Mia looked up at Evelyn, her tear-streaked face serious. “Are you going to stay with us? Even though we’re messy?”

Evelyn looked at Rocco. His eyes held a vulnerability that broke her heart and healed it all at once.

“I like messy,” Evelyn smiled, wiping Mia’s tears. “And I’m very good at fixing things.”

Six months later.

The carriage house was brilliantly lit. The front window was repaired, and a fresh coat of paint adorned the trim. Inside, the shop was packed with people.

Margaret Hartwell stood near the cash register, proudly telling anyone who would listen that her daughter had restored the magnificent bronze chandelier hanging above them. She conveniently omitted the fact that Rocco Ventresca had paid off the shop’s mortgage in full, a wedding gift Evelyn had finally, stubbornly accepted.

Martin Colby was nowhere to be seen.

Evelyn stood near the workbench, wearing a stunning emerald green dress that hugged every curve perfectly. She felt beautiful. She felt powerful.

Rocco walked up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. He wore a sharp gray suit, the silver pocket watch—now repaired and ticking perfectly—tucked into his vest.

“You did this,” Evelyn said, leaning back into him.

“You did this,” Rocco corrected, kissing her neck. “Carmine is in federal prison. The businesses are entirely legitimate. And my wife is the most sought-after restoration expert in the state.”

Across the room, Mia was sitting at a small desk, intensely coloring a new picture. Evelyn smiled as she watched her.

Mia held up the drawing. It wasn’t a hellhound this time.

It was a picture of three people standing under a giant chandelier. A tall man, a little girl, and a curvy woman in a beautiful dress.