Chapter 14 - THE NEW ERA
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One year after our wedding, the city of Chicago had undergone a complete, breathtaking renaissance.
Under Luca’s visionary leadership, the Moretti family had completely severed all ties to the violent underworld.
The old illicit gambling dens and loan-sharking offices had been permanently shut down.
In their place stood the Moretti Foundation—a hundred-million-dollar philanthropic trust that funded urban education, medical research, and shelters for abused women.
The northern and southern shipping terminals had been modernized into fully legitimate, unionized commercial ports, employing thousands of local workers with living wages and pensions.
Luca was no longer spoken of as a feared mafia boss in dark backrooms.
He was celebrated across Illinois as a titan of honest commerce, a dedicated philanthropist, and a protector of the working class.
On a warm Thursday afternoon in May, I stood on the stone balcony of the new Sarah Vance Community Health Center on the south side.
The four-story brick facility stood tall and bright, offering free pediatric and cardiac care to low-income families across the city.
Down in the blooming courtyard below, dozens of neighborhood mothers were holding their children, smiling and waving up at the balcony.
Beside me stood Teresa, wearing a light yellow linen dress and wide-brimmed sunhat, looking radiant and healthy.
She held the golden ceremonial shears, having just cut the grand ribbon to officially open the clinic.
“Your father is smiling down from heaven today, Luca,” Teresa whispered, looking at her son with infinite pride.
Luca stood on my other side, his arm wrapped securely around my waist, his black hair gently ruffled by the lake breeze.
“He would be proud of Hannah, Mom,” Luca replied softly, leaning down to press a kiss to my temple.
“She was the one who designed the entire clinic outreach program.”
I smiled, resting my hands against my slightly rounded belly beneath my pale blue silk dress.
Four months from now, our family would grow once more with the arrival of our firstborn son—Roberto Luca Moretti.
When we had shared the news with Teresa at Christmas, the old woman had wept for an hour, declaring that God had finally restored the laughter that had been stolen from our home.
Uncle Carmine walked onto the balcony, holding a leather folder and smiling warmly.
“Donna Hannah, the board of trustees just voted unanimously,” Carmine announced proudly.
“The pediatric wing has been named the Collins Children’s Pavilion.”
Tears of joy touched my eyes as I looked at the three people who had become my entire universe.
“Thank you, Uncle Carmine,” I said softly.
“It’s the least we could do for the woman who saved our name, Hannah,” Carmine replied, bowing his head respectfully.
Luca turned me gently in his arms, his dark eyes looking down into mine with a love so deep and boundless it took my breath away.
“Are you tired, my love?” he whispered, his large hand resting tenderly over our unborn child.
May you like
“I am perfectly happy, Luca,” I replied, looking up into the eyes of my husband.
“Let’s go home for dinner.”
