One year later.
The house was filled with laughter.
Not the forced laughter of a family pretending everything was fine.
Real laughter.
The kind that came from a life finally lived without fear.
Camille stood in the nursery doorway, watching Dante struggle with a tiny pink dress.
She covered her mouth to stop herself from laughing.
"You've been holding that for five minutes."
Dante looked at the dress.
"There's a problem."
"What problem?"
"I don't understand how something this small is supposed to fit an actual human being."
Camille laughed.
"Our daughter is small."
"She's a person, Camille."
"I know."
"Then why are her clothes smaller than my hand?"
"Because she's a baby."
He looked at her.
"You're enjoying this."
"Very much."
Dante sighed and placed the dress down.
"I'll handle business negotiations worth millions."
He pointed at the dress.
"But this?"
He shook his head.
"Impossible."
Camille walked over and took it from him.
"You'll learn."
"I hope so."
