Page 90 of His Enemy's Daughter
“It’s perfect.” His admission carries the same wonder I feel watching my own daughter. “Exhausting and perfect and exactly what I never thought I’d have.”
We fall into a comfortable silence—two men who’ve survived too much, built too much, and somehow ended up with exactly what we needed rather than what we thought we wanted.
“Keep me updated on Flavio,” I say finally. “Even if you don’t need my help, I want to know what he’s planning. Old habits.”
“Old habits,” Simeone agrees. “And Mauricio? Thank you. For the warning. For still watching my back even when you’re building your own empire.”
“We’re brothers. That doesn’t expire just because I moved countries.”
“No. It doesn’t.” His voice roughens slightly. “Give Regina and Sara my love. And enjoy your evening. Some of us are about to spend the night chasing a toddler who thinks bedtime is optional.”
I laugh, disconnecting as Regina appears at the terrace door with Sara in her arms. Our daughter’s storm-gray eyes—my eyes—blink sleepily against the fading light.
“Everything okay?” Regina’s question carries concern beneath a casual tone. “You had your ‘tactical problem’ face.”
“Flavio’s heading back to New York.” I cross to them, letting Sara’s tiny hand wrap around my finger with surprising strength. “Broke his exile. Simeone’s handling it, but I wanted to warn him.”
“Should we be worried?” Regina shifts Sara to her other shoulder, the movement practiced after three months of constant adjustments. “About Flavio coming back?”
“No.” I mean it, because whatever threat Flavio poses exists three thousand miles away in a life we’ve left behind. “He’s Simeone’s problem unless he makes himself ours. And even then, he’s one bitter exile against everything we’ve built here.”
“Good.” But Regina’s studying me with that sharp intelligence that misses nothing. “Because I’m not interested in letting Simeone’s former nephew disrupt the perfect life we’ve created.”
“Neither am I.” I pull them both close—my wife and daughter, my chosen family, my reason for everything. “We’ve survived worse than Flavio Codella. We’ll survive this, too.”
Sara makes a small sound—not quite crying but heading there. Regina laughs, the sound bright and free.
“Someone’s hungry again. Your daughter has your appetite.” She heads back inside, but pauses at the threshold. “Mauricio? Whatever happens with Flavio, we handle it together. Right?”
“Together.” I follow them inside, closing the door on Mediterranean sunset and distant threats. “Always together.”
As Regina settles into the chair to feed Sara, I watch from the doorway—struck again by the magnitude of what we’ve built. Just a little over a year ago, we were destroying empires and fighting for survival. Now we’re navigating feeding schedules, debating nursery colors, and building something that’s ours in every way that matters.
Flavio’s return is a problem. But it’s a distant problem, belonging to a world we’ve left behind even if we maintain careful connections. Here, in this villa overlooking the sea, with my wife and daughter safe and happy, nothing else reaches us unless we allow it.
And I’m not allowing anything to threaten this peace we’ve fought so hard to claim.
My phone sits silent on the table, and I leave it there—choosing this moment, this family, this life over whatever chaos Flavio’s planning three thousand miles away.
Some battles are worth fighting.
Others are just noise from a past that doesn’t get to define our future.
I know which category Flavio falls into.
And I’m done letting ghosts from old lives haunt the one I’m building with my beautiful wife.
The end.