Chapter 7 - She Came Back By Choice
Six months later, Natasha Reynolds stood inside a pediatric rehabilitation center in Brooklyn.
A brass plaque beside the entrance read:
THE LILY REYNOLDS CENTER FOR NEUROLOGIC MUSIC THERAPY
Natasha touched the name.
“You changed the second name.”
Simon’s voice came from behind her.
She turned.
He stood holding one twin while Anthony carried the other.
Natasha smiled.
“The board suggested using my last name too.”
“Good.”
“You’re biased.”
“Extremely.”
Natasha had left the penthouse.
For exactly twenty-three days.
On day twenty-four, Simon had appeared at her new apartment.
No guards inside.
No contract.
No orders.
He had stood outside holding two babies.
“They miss you,” he’d said.
Natasha had looked at him.
“Only them?”
Simon had sighed.
“No.”
That had been the beginning.
Not of employment.
Of something else.
The center was funded through one of Simon’s newly legitimate charitable foundations.
But Natasha had made one condition clear.
“My name goes nowhere on the building,” Simon had said when she first showed him the plans.
“Agreed.”
“And you run it.”
“Yes.”
“And families who can’t pay?”
“Don’t pay.”
Simon had smiled.
“Done.”
Now dozens of families filled the opening ceremony.
Children who struggled with sensory processing.
Children recovering from neurological injuries.
Parents who had spent years hearing what their children couldn’t do.
Inside the therapy rooms were drums, keyboards, guitars, sensory equipment, and enough instruments to create either miracles or the world’s loudest headache.
Natasha looked at the twins.
They were nearly a year old.
Healthy.
Alert.
Happy.
One reached for her.
She took him from Simon.
“Hey, troublemaker.”
The baby laughed.
Simon watched her.
“You know, he never laughs like that for me.”
“That’s because your face is intimidating.”
“He has my face.”
“Exactly.”
Anthony walked away laughing.
Simon looked offended.
“Did my own employee just laugh at me?”
“Former criminal mastermind losing control of his staff. Tragic.”
“Legitimate businessman.”
“Right.”
Simon leaned closer.
“Mostly legitimate.”
Natasha raised an eyebrow.
“Simon.”
“Completely legitimate.”
“Better.”
His companies had changed.
Some were sold.
Others were restructured.
Men who refused to adapt walked away.
A few were prosecuted when evidence of serious crimes surfaced.
The Gambino name still carried weight in New York.
But it was becoming associated with construction, logistics, restaurants, real estate, and charitable foundations instead of fear.
Change had cost Simon money.
Influence.
Old alliances.
He had never complained.
At the opening ceremony, a reporter approached Natasha.
“Miss Reynolds?”
“Yes?”
“Can I ask how you met Mr. Gambino?”
Natasha glanced at Simon.
“That’s a long story.”
Simon answered for her.
“She insulted my parenting.”
Natasha stared at him.
“I saved your parenting.”
“You called my nursery a nightmare.”
“It was.”
The reporter laughed.
“And is it true Mr. Gambino offered you two hundred and fifty thousand dollars the first night?”
Natasha smiled.
“That part is true.”
“What made you accept?”
Natasha looked at the twins.
“At first?”
She thought about forty-seven thousand dollars in debt.
An eviction notice.
A restaurant full of terrified people.
“Desperation.”
“And what made you stay?”
Simon looked at her.
Natasha smiled.
“I didn’t.”
The reporter appeared confused.
Natasha continued.
“I left.”
Simon’s eyes remained on hers.
“Then I came back.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s a difference between needing somewhere to belong and choosing where you belong.”
Simon said nothing.
He didn’t need to.
That evening, after the ceremony ended, they returned to the penthouse.
The twins crawled across the living room floor.
Natasha sat at the Steinway.
Simon approached.
“You still owe me something.”
She looked up.
“What?”
“A concert.”
“I resigned.”
“You said private concerts cost extra.”
“They do.”
“How much?”
Natasha considered it.
“Forty-seven thousand dollars.”
Simon frowned.
“That’s specific.”
“That was my medical debt.”
“Was?”
She smiled.
“Paid it off last month.”
Simon’s expression changed.
“You didn’t use the money I offered?”
“I used the salary I earned.”
A subtle distinction.
An important one.
Simon understood.
“Then name your price.”
Natasha looked toward the twins.
“One dance.”
Simon stared at her.
“I don’t dance.”
“You also didn’t snap your fingers.”
“That was different.”
“Coward.”
His eyebrow rose.
“Excuse me?”
Natasha played three notes.
A familiar triplet.
Simon recognized it immediately.
The same rhythm she had used in the restaurant.
The rhythm that had stopped two terrified infants from shaking.
The rhythm that had changed everything.
Simon held out his hand.
“One dance.”
Natasha took it.
He pulled her gently from the bench.
“You’re terrible at this,” she said thirty seconds later.
“I’m learning.”
“That excuse worked better with the babies.”
Simon smiled.
Then his expression became serious.
“There’s something I need to ask you.”
Natasha stopped.
“What?”
Simon reached into his jacket.
Her eyes widened.
“Simon Gambino.”
“What?”
“If you pull out another employment contract, I swear—”
He laughed.
Then dropped to one knee.
Natasha covered her mouth.
Across the room, Anthony quietly lifted both twins into his arms.
Simon opened a small velvet box.
Natasha stared at the ring.
“You told me once that if you stayed, it had to be because you chose to.”
Her eyes filled.
“I remember.”
“So I’m asking.”
Simon looked up at her.
“No contract.”
Natasha laughed through her tears.
“No salary.”
She laughed harder.
“No orders.”
“Simon…”
“Just a choice.”
His voice softened.
“Choose me.”
For once, Natasha Reynolds had no clever answer.
She looked at the man who had once frightened an entire restaurant simply by standing in it.
Then at the two little boys who had unknowingly brought them together.
The babies were watching her.
Natasha lifted her hand.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
Both twins immediately grinned.
Simon shook his head.
“You taught them that on purpose.”
“Maybe.”
“Natasha.”
She smiled.
“Yes.”
Simon froze.
“Yes?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you.”
He stood so quickly she laughed.
Then he kissed her.
Anthony turned the twins away.
“Gentlemen, give your father some privacy.”
Simon broke the kiss.
“Anthony.”
“Yes, boss?”
“Get out.”
“See? Completely legitimate businessman.”
Natasha laughed.
Simon looked at her.
“You realize you’re going to spend the rest of your life making fun of me.”
“That’s the plan.”
He slipped the ring onto her finger.
A few minutes later, Natasha returned to the piano.
Simon sat beside her with one twin on his knee while she held the other.
She finally played.
Not because a patient needed her.
Not because Simon had paid her.
Not because she was trying to outrun the memory of a little girl whose death had once driven her away from music.
She played because she wanted to.
Halfway through the song, one twin began tapping his hand against the piano.
Three beats.
Pause.
Three beats.
Simon noticed first.
He looked at Natasha.
She looked back at him.
Neither said anything.
They simply smiled.
Months earlier, Natasha Reynolds had walked toward the most feared man in New York because two babies needed someone who understood what their shaking meant.
Simon had offered her a fortune.
But the money had never been the thing that changed her life.
She had taught two frightened children that the world could be safe.
She had taught their father that strength did not always mean violence.
And somewhere between midnight feedings, whispered arguments, piano keys, threats, betrayals, and three simple beats—
Simon Gambino had taught her something too.
May you like
Sometimes walking away proves you’re free.
And sometimes coming back proves you’ve found home
