Chapter 75: Little Isabella

Isabella Grace Moretti entered the world early and immediately began ruling it.

Luca claimed she had Alexander's glare within forty-eight hours. Grace argued that no newborn could glare with legal intent. Dr. Cross said everyone should stop projecting family trauma onto an infant and wash their hands before holding her.

Scarlett watched them with exhausted amusement from the hospital bed.

Motherhood arrived like weather she had no map for. It was milk, tears, fear, wonder, and the strange ache of loving someone who could not yet understand how completely she had changed the world.

Alexander became quieter after Isabella's birth.

Not distant. Reverent.

He held his daughter as if she were made of light and law.

'You can breathe while holding her,' Scarlett said one night.

He looked down at the sleeping baby. 'That seems risky.'

Scarlett smiled. 'You faced Victor Hale without blinking.'

'Victor Hale was less fragile.'

When Isabella wrapped her tiny hand around his finger, Alexander's face changed in a way Scarlett would remember forever.

The Godfather disappeared.

Only a father remained.

A week later, Scarlett brought Isabella home to the lake house first, not Moretti House. She wanted her daughter to see water, trees, and white roses before city lights and security gates.

They placed the baby in the nursery that had once been empty.

Scarlett sat in the rocking chair with Isabella asleep against her chest. Alexander stood in the doorway, watching them.

'What?' Scarlett asked softly.

'I used to think peace would feel boring.'

'And?'

'I was an idiot.'

She laughed quietly.

Outside, sunlight moved over the lake.

Scarlett looked down at her daughter and thought of Isabella Whitmore, the mother whose love had survived murder, lies, and time itself.

'She will know everything,' Scarlett whispered.

Alexander came to her side. 'The truth?'

'Yes. But also the love.'

He kissed his daughter's forehead, then Scarlett's.

'Especially the love,' he said.