Monday morning brings chaos. Luna has launched a full-scale offensive, and no one is prepared.
It starts at breakfast. Luna has made a poster. Crayon, glitter, and what appears to be dried pasta glued to construction paper. The poster features a dog, a family, and a large heart with the words "WE NEED A DOG" written in letters that tilt wildly across the page.
"Mommy," Luna announces, taping the poster to the refrigerator with enough force to damage the finish, "this is my campaign. For a dog. I am campaigning."
"I see that," Allie says, pouring coffee. "What exactly does campaigning mean?"
"It means I convince you," Luna explains patiently. "With facts and posters and being very loud until you say yes."
"That is not convincing," Leo observes, entering with his security notebook. "That is harassment."
"It is effective harassment," Luna counters. "Mommy, fact one: dogs reduce stress. You are always stressed. Therefore, dog."
"Where did you learn about stress reduction?"
"TV. Also, Daddy's doctor said so. I heard him on the phone."
Allie looks at Dom, who is trying to hide behind his newspaper. "You told your doctor I am stressed?"
"I told my doctor I am stressed," Dom clarifies. "He suggested a dog. For the children. For family bonding."
"Fact two," Luna continues, undeterred. "Dogs need walks. Walks are exercise. Exercise makes you healthy. We want to be healthy. Therefore, dog."
"That is actually logical," Leo admits. "For Luna."
"Fact three," Luna says, her voice rising to campaign volume, "I love dogs. I love them with my whole heart. And if we do not get a dog, my heart will be sad forever. Is that what you want? A sad heart forever?"
Allie kneels to Luna's level. She takes her daughter's hands, studies her fierce, hopeful, demanding face.
"Luna," she says gently, "I love you. I love your passion and your posters and your loud voice. But a dog is a big decision. It needs space, time, training. We are still figuring out our lives here. Adding a dog right now... it might be too much."
Luna's lower lip trembles. But she does not cry. Luna saves her tears for strategic moments, and this is not one.
"Then when?" she asks. "When we have a house? When we are normal? When is normal, Mommy? When do we get to be a normal family with a dog and a yard and no bad guys?"
Allie does not have an answer. She looks at Dom, who has abandoned his newspaper, who looks as wrecked as she feels.
"Soon," Dom says, kneeling beside them. "We are working on it, princess. Working on making everything safe and normal and good. And when we get there, when we have a house with a yard, we will get the best dog in the world. The fluffiest, most pirate-friendly dog you can imagine."
"Promise?" Luna demands.
"Promise," Dom says. "On my honor. On my name. On everything I am."
Luna studies him. She takes promises seriously, this child who has learned that adults do not always keep their word.
"Okay," she says finally. "But I am keeping the poster. For when the time comes."
She runs off, presumably to plan additional campaigns, leaving Allie and Dom kneeling on the kitchen floor.
"Are we close?" Allie asks quietly. "To safe? To normal?"
"We are closer than we were," Dom says. "The Kovacs are quiet. Viktor is banished. The business is stabilizing." He takes her hand. "But I will not lie to you. There will always be threats. Always be danger. That is the life I have given you. The life I have given them."
"It is the life I chose," Allie corrects. "The life we are building together. And I would not trade it for safe and boring and alone."
Dom pulls her close. They hold each other on the kitchen floor, surrounded by Luna's glitter and Leo's security protocols and the beautiful, terrifying, wonderful chaos of their family.
Later that day, Luna launches her second campaign. This one is for a sleepover with her new friend from school, a girl named Mia whose mother Allie has not yet met.
"Luna," Allie says, reviewing
"Luna," Allie says, reviewing the request with careful attention, "we do not know Mia's family. We need to meet her parents first, understand their situation, make sure it is safe."
"Safe," Luna repeats, her voice dropping from campaign volume to something smaller, more vulnerable. "Everything is about safe. Why can nothing just be fun? Why can nothing just be normal?"
Allie pulls her daughter into her lap. Luna is getting big, almost too big for this, but she curls in anyway, trusting, needing.
"Because we are special," Allie says carefully. "Because your daddy is important, and that means people might want to hurt us. So we are careful. We check locks and vary routes and meet parents before sleepovers. It is annoying, I know. It is tiring. But it keeps us together. And together is what matters most."
Luna is quiet for a moment, processing. Then she nods, small and serious. "Okay. Meet the parents first. But Mommy? When can we stop being special? When can we just be boring?"
Allie looks at Dom, who has appeared in the doorway, listening. He looks as helpless as she feels.
"Soon," she promises, hoping it is true. "We are working on it. Every day, we are working on it."
The meeting with Mia's parents happens on Wednesday. Allie arranges it carefully, security in the background, neutral ground at a public park. She hates that this is necessary, hates that her daughter cannot simply have a normal friend without background checks and threat assessments.
Mia's mother is named Sarah. She is warm, open, slightly overwhelmed by the elaborate security presence. Her husband works in insurance. They live in a modest house in Queens. They have a cat named Mr. Whiskers and no connection to organized crime whatsoever.
"Your husband," Sarah says carefully, watching Dom help Luna and Mia on the swings, "he is the billionaire? The one in the news?"
"Yes," Allie admits. "I am sorry for the... the drama. The security. We try to keep it low-key, but"
"But you are targets," Sarah finishes. She does not sound judgmental, just sad. "That must be hard. For you. For the children."
"It is," Allie says, surprised by the relief of honesty. "It is very hard. But we are managing. Building something better."
Sarah studies her. "Luna talks about you constantly. Her mommy who works in a tower. Her daddy who builds things. She is proud of you. Both of you."
Allie feels tears prick her eyes. "Thank you. That means more than you know."
The sleepover is approved, scheduled for the following weekend. Luna is ecstatic, triumphant, convinced her campaigning skills are unstoppable.
Leo, however, is troubled. He waits until Luna is asleep, until Dom is working in his study, to approach Allie with his concerns.
"Mom," he says, sitting at the kitchen table with his security notebook open. "I have researched Mia's family. They are clean, as you say. But the sleepover creates vulnerability. A fixed location, predictable timing, minimal security presence."
"Leo, it is one night. In a safe neighborhood. With parents we have vetted."
"One night is enough," Leo says quietly. "For someone watching, waiting, planning. I do not want Luna to get hurt. I do not want you to get hurt. I could not... I could not survive that."
Allie looks at her son. This serious, careful, loving boy who carries too much weight for his age. Who checks locks and plans escapes and still sleeps with a nightlight because the dark holds too many possibilities.
"Leo," she says, taking his hands, "I need you to hear me. It is not your job to protect us. It is my job. It is Daddy's job. Your job is to be a kid. To have fun, make friends, learn things, dream about the future. Can you do that? Can you trust us to keep you safe?"
Leo is silent for a long time. Then he nods, small and reluctant. "I will try," he says. "But I am assigning myself as backup security for the sleepover. I will call every hour. I will have a code word for danger. I will"
"You will do nothing of the sort," Allie interrupts gently. "You will go to your own sleepover with your friend Marcus. You will have fun. And you will trust that Luna is safe, and that we are safe, and that everything is okay."
"But what if it is not?"
"Then we handle it," Allie promises. "Together. As a family. That is what families do, Leo. They trust each other. They support each other. They do not carry everything alone."
Leo considers this. He closes his notebook, slowly, like he is putting away a part of himself he is not sure he can retrieve.
"Okay," he whispers. "I will try. For you. For all of us."
Allie pulls him into her arms. He is stiff at first, resistant, then softens, melts, holds her back with desperate strength.
"I love you, Leo," she says into his hair. "You are the best son I could ever imagine. You do not have to be perfect. You do not have to be strong all the time. Just be you. That is enough."
"I love you too, Mom," Leo whispers back. "I am just... I am scared of losing everything. Of not being enough to keep everyone safe."
"You are enough," Allie promises. "Just by loving us. Just by being here. That is enough."
They hold each other until Dom finds them, joins them, makes it a family huddle on the kitchen floor. Luna sleeps through it all, dreaming of dogs and sleepovers and the normal life she deserves.