Page 41 of Marcello DeLuca

Vito’s expression hardens, and he nods once. “Do what you have to do. You are my brother, after all.” With that, he turns and walks away, his shoulders tense, his back rigid.

“Please, let me go,” Altoni begs, his voice trembling. But there’s no room for mercy here, not for betrayal.

“Well, I am my brother’s keeper,” Vito says as he turns back, pulling the trigger and putting a bullet in Altoni’s right eye. The sound is sharp, final, echoing in the silence that follows. Altoni’s body slumps, lifeless.

I look down at Alfonso, my grip tightening on the gun. The man who had fathered me, the man who should have protected me, had instead betrayed us all for money.

“You made your choice,” I say softly. “And now, you pay the price.”

With a final glance at Vito, I pull the trigger, ending Alfonso’s life with a single shot. The room is deathly silent, the air thick with the smell of gunpowder and finality.

Ramiri steps forward, his face somber but resolute. He places a hand on my shoulder. “You did what you had to do, Marcello. You are a true DeLuca.”

I look at him, the man who raised me, who taught me what it meant to be a man. “You’re the only one worthy of the title of father in my life,” I say, my voice thick with emotion.

Vito nods, his eyes meeting mine with a rare softness. “Don Ermano was the only man I ever called father,” he says quietly. “Now, we have each other.”

We step forward, embracing Ramiri in a hug that’s filled with power, strength, and love. In this moment, we are more than just a family bound by blood. We are a force, united, unbreakable. We are the DeLucas.

Safia

The lights dim as the curtain falls on the final scene, and the audience bursts into applause. My heart races with a mix of exhilaration and relief. Opening night of Amélie has been a whirlwind of emotions, and as I take my final bow, I scan the sea of faces for the people who mean the most to me.

In the second row, Marcello stands tall, clapping with a proud, almost fierce intensity. His eyes never leave me, and even from the stage, I can feel the connection between us, electric and unbreakable. Beside him, Vito is beaming, a rare, genuine smile stretching across his face. Nicole is next to him, her hands raised in enthusiastic applause, her eyes bright with excitement.

Ramiri sits a few seats over, his arm draped casually around his new girlfriend, Loretta, who leans in close, sharing the moment with him. Uncle James is there too, fully recovered and looking strong, his arm around Gabriella. He catches my eye and gives me a wink, his smile full of pride and affection.

I take a deep breath, absorbing the energy and love radiating from my family and friends. This moment, this connection, feels like a dream come true—a stark contrast to the chaos and fear we’ve all endured. The applause continues, and I step back, my fellow cast members gathering around me for the final bow.

As we retreat backstage, the buzz of the audience still vibrating through the walls, I can barely contain my excitement. The past few years have been a rollercoaster, but standing here, in the warm glow of the theater lights, I feel a profound sense of peace.

A stagehand whispers that my guests are waiting in the lobby. I hurry down the narrow corridor, my costume rustling as I move. Pushing open the door, I’m met with a wave of cheers and congratulations.

“Safia, you were amazing!” Nicole exclaims, rushing forward to hug me. Her excitement is contagious, and I find myself laughing as she spins me around.

“You owned that stage,” Vito says, his voice filled with admiration. He steps forward, embracing me warmly. “You’re a star, Safia.”

“Bravo, my dear,” Ramiri’s deep voice rumbles as he pulls me into a hug. Loretta stands beside him, smiling warmly. “You brought the magic of Amélie to life.”

Uncle James is next, his grin wide as he hugs me tightly. “You’ve come a long way, kid. Your parents would be so proud.”

Gabriella nods, her eyes glistening. “You were wonderful, Safia. Absolutely wonderful.”

As I bask in their praises, my eyes search for Marcello. He’s standing back, giving everyone their moment, but his gaze is intense, and I can see the possessive pride in his eyes. But before he can step forward, I’m swept into another embrace.

“Safia!” A voice I haven’t heard in years calls out. I turn, my breath catching in my throat. My grandparents. Both sets—my mother’s parents and my father’s parents—are here, their faces lit with joy and love.

“Nana, Pop,” I whisper, tears welling up as I hug them. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“We wouldn’t miss this for the world,” my mother’s mother says, her voice soft and filled with emotion. “You were incredible, darling.”

“And so brave,” my father’s father adds, his grip strong and reassuring. “We’re so proud of you.”

I’m enveloped in their love, their warmth a balm to my soul. It’s been so long since I’ve seen them, since I’ve felt their presence, and their being here, now, feels like the final piece of a puzzle falling into place.

For a few precious moments, we talk and catch up, their voices blending into a comforting symphony of family and support. They tell me how they’ve been following my theater journey, how proud they are of the woman I’ve become.

But through it all, I feel Marcello’s gaze, a magnetic pull drawing me back to him. Finally, he steps forward, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine.

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