One Year Later
I sat on the terrace of the villa in Italy, a glass of 2024 Eredità in my hand. Beside me, Sophia read quietly, sunlight glinting in her silver hair. Below us, Augusto and the children moved through the vineyard rows, the harvest nearly complete.
My phone buzzed. A message from Preston.
Not a demand. Not a complaint.
A photo—rows of neatly stacked crates inside a warehouse in New Jersey.
Under it, a message:
“Record sales this month. The New York account is ours. And… I bought a used Ford. Runs great. Thanks.”
I smiled and set the phone aside.
The chessboard between Sophia and me sat mid-game. I reached forward and moved my knight, putting her king in check.
“You play just like him,” she said, studying the board. “Always thinking ten moves ahead.”
“No,” I said softly, gazing out over the hills glowing gold in the late sun. “He played to win. I play to keep the family together.”
She countered my move with a calm smile. “Then you’ve already won.”
I lifted my glass—the wine rich and earned, the land honest and alive.
My father had been a shield.
My grandfather had been a sword.
And me?
I was simply the one who learned that the greatest victories aren’t about conquest—
they’re about choosing what, and who, is worth protecting.
