"Someone Is Poisoning You," The Little Maid’s Daughter Whispered That My Fiancée Was Poisoning Me—Then One Butter Dish Exposed the Woman Sent to Inherit My Empire

One year later.

Spring had arrived on Federal Hill, bringing a vibrant burst of green leaves, blooming cherry blossoms, and warm breezes blowing off the bay.

The Romano estate was no longer a cold, silent fortress of fear and shadow.

It was filled with life.

The long dining room was used every evening for family dinners. Sophia had taken over the management of the Romano Charity Foundation, using our resources to build shelters and medical clinics for working-class families across Rhode Island.

Emma was thriving in her new school, coming home every afternoon with arms full of drawings and gold star ribbons.

I stood on the stone terrace overlooking the city skyline, wearing a comfortable white shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

A soft sound of running footsteps echoed behind me.

“Gabriel! Look what I found in the garden!” Emma squealed, running out onto the terrace holding a tiny yellow butterfly resting on her finger.

I knelt down on the stone tiles, looking at the fragile insect perched on her small hand.

“It’s beautiful, Emma,” I smiled, gently touching her hair.

Sophia stepped out onto the terrace, holding two cups of fresh espresso, her eyes shining as she watched us together.

“She’s been chasing that butterfly for twenty minutes,” Sophia laughed softly, handing me a cup.

I stood up, holding my espresso in one hand and taking Sophia’s hand with the other, pulling her close to my side. Emma giggled, wrapping her arms around both of our legs.

I looked out over the sunlit hills of Providence, feeling the quiet, deep warmth of a life restored.