Thanksgiving that year was different.
We'd always celebrated, but this time felt special. Like we'd earned it.
Everyone gathered at our house. Rosa's expanding family she and Alessandro had just finalized the adoption of their third child, a six-year-old boy named Lucas. Tony's family, with three kids now running wild through our house. Sofia's friends, who'd become like extended family. Maria. Elena. Connor. Caroline, the journalist who'd become a genuine friend.
Even some of our restaurant staff came people who'd become family through shared work and shared values.
"I want to say something," I announced before we ate.
Everyone quieted.
"Five years ago, Dante and I got out of prison. We'd lost everything our empire, our reputation, three years of our lives. We thought we were starting over from nothing."
"But we weren't starting from nothing. We were starting from survival. From knowledge. From scars that had taught us what really mattered."
