Chapter 16 - The Legacy in the Gardens
Six months after the fall of the Moretti clan, the Costa estate had shifted from a fortress on edge to a sanctuary of quiet stability.
Spring had arrived in southern Italy, painting the cliffside in vibrant bursts of bougainvillea, wild rosemary, and silver-green olive blossoms. The heavy iron gates at the perimeter remained guarded, but inside the walls, the atmosphere was soft and warm.
Tessa stood in the newly renovated courtyard garden directly outside Room 104.
She wore a dark green linen dress, her hair pinned back loosely as she helped Beatrice navigate the wide stone path. A custom teak bench had been installed beneath an ancient, sprawling lemon tree so Beatrice could sit in the shade and watch the sea without tiring her feet.
"The air smells like home today," Beatrice rasped softly, settling into the bench cushions with a satisfied sigh.
Tessa sat beside her, tucking a soft knitted throw over the old woman's knees. "It’s warm enough for tea outside today. I asked the kitchen to prepare the lemon biscuits you like."
Beatrice turned her dark eyes toward Tessa. The foggy haze of Alzheimer's still claimed hours of her day, but the wild, terrifying panics were gone. Under Tessa’s constant, intuitive care, Beatrice lived in a gentle world where she felt safe, cherished, and never alone.
"You look after my son when I'm not here," Beatrice said suddenly, her voice carrying a sharp, crystal-clear moment of awareness.
Tessa paused, looking into Beatrice's eyes. "Damian takes very good care of himself, Beatrice."
"No, he doesn't," the old woman countered with a soft, knowing chuckle. "He builds walls. He collects rifles. He thinks if he makes enough money, the world can't touch him. But he was bleeding inside until you walked into that room with your bowl of oatmeal."
Tessa smiled warmly, resting her hand over Beatrice's spotted knuckles. "He loves you very much."
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"He loves you," Beatrice corrected firmly, tapping Tessa’s hand with two fingers. "And don't you let him forget it."
Across the courtyard, standing under the shadow of the stone archway, Damian watched the two women. He wore a crisp white shirt with the sleeves turned up, a faint, contented smile on his face that his captains in Milan would never have believed existed.
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