Page 103 of Damon

"He'll also need to learn both sides of his heritage," my father continues. "Lombardi traditions and Bonacci traditions. Italian language and culture. The importance of family and loyalty and honor."

I listen to them plan my son's entire life and can't help but smile. This is exactly what I expected—both grandfathers already competing to shape Lorenzo's future.

"There's plenty of time for all of that," I say. "Right now, let's focus on the fact that he's here and healthy."

"You're right," Roberto says. "Today is about celebrating. Tomorrow we can start planning his empire."

"Empire?" Viviana raises an eyebrow.

"What else would you call it? Between the Lombardi and Bonacci organizations, this boy is going to inherit one of the most powerful combinations in the country."

"Assuming he wants it," she says quietly.

Both grandfathers look at her like she's spoken heresy.

"Of course he'll want it," my father says. "It's his birthright."

"It's his choice," she corrects firmly. "When he's old enough to understand what it means, he gets to decide what kind of life he wants."

I sense the beginning of an argument, so I intervene. "Let's table this discussion for about eighteen years, shall I? Right now, all Lorenzo needs to worry about is eating and sleeping and growing."

"And being spoiled by his grandfathers," Roberto adds with a grin.

"Absolutely," my father agrees. "I'm already planning his nursery at our house. He'll need a place to stay when he visits."

"Both houses," Roberto insists. "He needs to spend equal time with both families."

And so it begins—the competition for Lorenzo's attention and affection that will probably define his childhood. But looking at these two men who spent decades as enemies and are now planning joint custody of their grandson, I can't help but marvel at how much has changed.

A year ago, a Lombardi and a Bonacci in the same room meant violence. Now it means family dinners and shared grandchildren.

"I think he's waking up," Viviana says, and we all turn our attention back to Lorenzo.

His eyes flutter open, dark and unfocused but alert. He looks around the room like he's trying to make sense of this new world he's entered.

"Hello, baby boy," Viviana whispers. "Look at all the people who love you already."

Lorenzo focuses on her voice, and I swear his expression changes. Like he recognizes her, trusts her.

"He's smart," Roberto observes. "Look at those eyes. Very intelligent."

"Gets it from his mother," I say, earning a grateful smile from Viviana.

"And his father," she adds. "This child is going to be dangerous when he grows up."

"In the best possible way," my father says with satisfaction.

As we sit there admiring Lorenzo, I think about everything that brought us to this moment. The kidnapping that started it all, the alliance that saved both families, the marriage that nobody expected to work but somehow became the foundation for everything good in my life.

If someone had told me a year ago that I'd be sitting in a hospital room with Roberto Bonacci, both of us crying over a baby who carries both our names, I'd have had them committed.

But life has a way of surprising you.

Love has a way of changing everything.

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