Chapter 97

Angela POV

"Mama, can I help clean the table?" Aria's small voice pulled me from my thoughts as we finished our dinner.

"I've got the dishes," Ethan announced, already carefully stacking plates.

I smiled at my daughter. "When you're a bit taller, you can help with the table. For now, why don't you put your napkin in the laundry basket?"

Aria considered this, then nodded seriously, treating the simple task with exaggerated importance.

"You're both such wonderful helpers," I said, dropping a kiss on each forehead before helping Ethan with the heavier dishes.

While the twins carried their napkins to the laundry room with ceremonial precision, my phone rang. Sophie's name flashed on the screen, and I felt a familiar warmth at the sight.

"Ciao, bella!" Sophie's voice carried all the bustle and energy of Manhattan through the line. "How are my favorite Italian residents?"

"We're wonderful," I replied, settling onto a kitchen stool. "The twins just finished their cooking show. Risotto was a big hit."

"I watched the first few minutes before my meeting," Sophie laughed. "Aria's face when she dropped that shrimp was priceless. Listen, have you thought more about the Lawrence Capital offer? George called me again yesterday."

I sighed, running a hand through my loose waves. "I don't know, Sophie. Moving back to New York..."

"I know, I know. But Angela, it's been five years. You can't hide in this little Tuscan town forever, no matter how peaceful country life is."

"I'm not hiding," I protested, though the words felt hollow even to my own ears. "I'm raising my children and building a consulting portfolio."

"Speaking of which,"Sophie's voice was full of excitement, "your last market analysis was absolutely brilliant. Which is exactly why you should be running your own firm in New York instead of freelancing from Italy."

"I've been thinking about that, actually," I admitted, lowering my voice as I heard the twins returning from the laundry room. "Not Lawrence Capital, but starting my own boutique investment advisory. Something small that I could build while still having time with the children."

Sophie's squeal of delight made me pull the phone from my ear. "YES! This is what I've been waiting to hear! Angela Wilson back in the game on her own terms. We need to celebrate when you're back!"

"I haven't decided yet," I cautioned, but Sophie was already launching into ideas about office space in the Financial District and potential clients.

By the time I finished the call, the twins had been bathed, pajama-clad, and were waiting expectantly with their favorite storybook.

I tucked them into their beds, reading until both pairs of eyes grew heavy.

"Night, my precious ones," I whispered, placing a final kiss on each forehead.

"G'night, Mama," Ethan murmured, already half-asleep.

"Love you to the moon and Jupiter," Aria added with a yawn, using our special phrase.

"And back again," I completed, turning off the light and leaving their door slightly ajar.

Back in the kitchen, I finished tidying up, then checked my phone once more. Still no response from NightShadow. With a small frown, I set the phone aside and prepared for bed.

Unlike the early years after leaving New York, when sleeping pills had been my only refuge against insomnia, I now found rest came relatively easily.

The quiet of the Tuscan countryside, the physical fatigue from days spent with active five-year-olds, and perhaps simply the passage of time had all contributed to healing that particular wound.

As I drifted toward sleep, my mind wandered to the mysterious NightShadow.

Who was this person, watching my children from a distance?

Some wealthy but lonely soul, perhaps, finding joy in their innocent cooking adventures?

Or someone with darker motives?

I'd tried tracing the account, but Instagram's privacy features made it nearly impossible without professional help.

Tomorrow, I decided, I would speak with my cybersecurity consultant in Milan.

Five years away from the cutthroat world of finance had taught me to trust my instincts. And my instincts said there was something strange about NightShadow's interest in my children.

As I finally surrendered to sleep, a name I rarely allowed myself to think about directly floated through my consciousness.

Sean.

Five years since I'd spoken it aloud.

Five years since I'd made the decision to leave without telling him about the pregnancy. Five years of building a life for myself and our children-children he didn't even know existed.

Sometimes I wondered if I'd made the right choice. But then I'd remember Christina's words, the check Sean had written, the life they had probably built together by now.

No, I decided as sleep finally claimed me. Some doors were better left closed.