He Chose His Bastard Over Our Baby - Chapter 20: Chapter 20

Five Years Later
The cemetery was quieter now, as if the ghosts of the past had finally settled. A soft breeze stirred the leaves overhead, carrying the scent of lilies and damp earth.
I stood before Amara's grave, no longer burning with vengeance but carrying the quiet weight of acceptance.
Kneeling, I placed a bouquet of white lilies against the headstone. My fingers traced the carved letters of her name, the grooves as familiar as my own skin.
"Justice is served, my love," I whispered.
There was no more blood to spill, no more shadows chasing me. Lorenzo was dead. Isabella was dead. The ones who'd tried to destroy me had met their ends.
I was free.
But not everyone had walked away unharmed.
Dante—Isabella's son—had been left behind.
A child abandoned by his mother's sins.
He'd been sent to an orphanage, forced to grow up without the love of the woman who'd ruined so many lives. And as much as I hated Isabella, I couldn't bring myself to hate the boy.
He was innocent.
Sometimes I wondered if he'd ever learn the truth about his mother. Would he resent her? Or would he live never knowing the weight of her betrayals?
I pitied him.
Because in the end, we were all casualties of the past.
Closing my eyes, I took a slow breath. The storm inside me had finally stilled. All that remained was the ache of loving a little girl taken too soon.
A presence lingered behind me—steady, unwavering. I turned to find Darius standing at a respectful distance, hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored coat, watching me with quiet understanding.
He'd always been patient with my grief, never pushing me to move on before I was ready. He'd been there when I shattered, when rage nearly consumed me. And when there was nothing left but exhaustion, he'd helped me rebuild.
Now, five years later, we stood side by side—not as prisoners of vengeance, but as partners who'd fought through the darkness.
I walked toward him, and without a word, he took my hand, lacing our fingers together. His warmth anchored me, a reminder of the life I'd chosen to embrace.
"Ready?" he asked softly.
I glanced back at the grave one last time. Amara would always be part of me, but the ghosts of the past no longer held me captive.
"Yes."
We left the cemetery together, stepping away from the bloodshed, the betrayals, the injustice. The past was buried—Lorenzo's sins, Isabella's lies, Amara's stolen future.
For the first time in years, I was living—not for revenge, but for what came next.
Later That Night...
The estate was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of twilight. I sat on the balcony, watching stars flicker against the dark sky. The world felt different now—lighter, as if the weight I'd carried had finally lifted.
Darius stepped outside, two glasses of wine in hand. He passed me one before settling beside me.
"You were quiet today," he remarked.
I took a sip, letting the rich flavor linger before answering. "Just thinking."
"About?"
I met his gaze—the man who'd stood beside me through the worst of it. "How different things could've been."
Darius leaned back, studying me. "Regrets?"
I shook my head. "No. Just… perspective."
There'd been a time when revenge was the only thing keeping me alive. When every breath tasted like hate, every step led toward destruction.
But Darius had shown me there was life beyond vengeance. That joy could exist after sorrow.
He took my hand, thumb brushing slow circles over my palm. "You made it, Valeria. You survived."
I exhaled. "I did."
And for the first time, I truly believed it.
A New Beginning
Morning light spilled through the windows, painting the room gold. I stirred, feeling the warmth of Darius beside me, his arm draped over my waist.
I turned, tracing the sharp lines of his face—the faint scar along his jaw, a reminder of battles fought in my name.
Darius had been my salvation when I was drowning in hatred.
Now, he was my future.
A soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts.
"Come in," I called.
The door creaked open, revealing a little girl with wide, curious eyes. She hovered in the doorway, clutching a stuffed bear.
I sat up, smiling. "Good morning, Lucia."
She beamed, shuffling forward. "Good morning, Mama."
The words still made my chest tighten.
Lucia wasn't mine by blood, but that had never mattered. I'd found her in the wreckage of a war I'd left behind—a girl who'd lost her family, just as I'd lost Amara.
At first, I'd been afraid. Loving another child felt like inviting more pain. But Lucia had slipped into my heart, piece by piece, mending the cracks Amara's death had left.
She climbed onto the bed, nestling between us. Darius groaned, burying his face in the pillow. "Too early," he grumbled.
I laughed, kissing Lucia's forehead. "What do you need, sweetheart?"
She giggled, snuggling closer. "Pancakes, Papa."
I froze.
Lucia had never called Darius that before.
I felt him shift beside me, his arm tightening around us both. When I looked at him, his gaze held something unspoken—something warm, something sure.
Family.
For so long, I'd believed revenge was all I had. That love was just another illusion, destined to break.
But here, in this quiet morning—with Lucia curled against me and Darius beside me—I realized something.
I'd been wrong.
I'd found love again.
And this time, I wouldn't let go.
Years Later
I returned to Amara's grave with Lucia at my side.
I told her about the sister she'd never meet, about a love that never faded.
I placed fresh lilies on the stone, whispering a promise—not of revenge, not of sorrow, but of a life well lived.
And finally, I walked away without looking back.
Still, as I left, my thoughts drifted to another child—one left behind in ways he'd never understand.
Dante.
Would he ever know the truth? Would he grow up in that orphanage, drowning in the same loneliness I once had?
I hoped, somehow, he'd find his own way.
Because no child should pay for their parents' sins.