Chapter 9 - WHO GETS TO BE A FATHER
Roman proposed to Marisol in the kitchen.
No restaurant.
No ring hidden in food.
No children holding signs.
She was forty-four.
He was forty-eight.
He had spent four years out of prison, three years dating her, and countless hours learning that a household is not a company.
He asked:
“Do you want to marry me?”
Marisol looked at the sink.
“You could’ve cleaned first.”
“I did.”
She inspected.
He had not.
Then laughed.
“Yes.”
But before wedding, they held a family meeting.
Not to ask children for permission over Marisol’s adult choice.
To discuss practical changes.
Roman would not move into Fenwick immediately.
Why?
Matteo and Bibi were still minors under permanent guardianship/adoption structures.
Household background and safety review required.
Roman’s criminal convictions mattered.
A court and child-welfare licensing counsel reviewed.
Because Roman no longer needed secrecy, he disclosed everything.
Some convictions could have created barriers to foster licensing.
But Bibi was adopted by Marisol and Matteo under permanent guardianship no longer dependent on active foster placement by then; still household safety and court review mattered.
Jamal nearly eighteen.
Others elsewhere.
The court approved Roman living in household with conditions:
no firearms accessible.
security arrangements external.
no illegal associates in residence.
continued guardianship oversight for Matteo.
standard background documentation.
Roman hated the phrase illegal associates.
Fair.
Then Bibi asked:
“Does this make him Dad?”
Marisol:
“Ask him.”
Bibi looked.
Roman froze more than he had in federal court.
“What do you want to call me?”
Bibi thought.
“Dad.”
His face changed.
Then:
“Is that okay?”
“Yes.”
He cried.
Bibi looked alarmed.
“Why are you crying?”
“Because I’m dramatic.”
True.
Then Matteo.
He did not call Roman Dad.
He called him Roman.
That was equally accepted.
Talia called him “Mari’s husband” for years.
Jamal called him “old man” until Roman objected.
Caleb and Nico called him Uncle Roman.
Sophie called him Roman.
Avery called him Mr. Moretti for a year because she thought it was funny.
Luis called him R.
One family.
Different relationships.
No title referendum.
Then marriage.
Small.
Children everywhere.
Keisha attended with Avery.
Aaron attended with Sophie.
Denise attended with Jamal, sober and nervous.
The twins’ aunt brought them from North Carolina.
Carlos sent Talia a gift and came too after she invited him.
Dana Cho cried more than anyone and denied it.
Celeste did not attend.
She was out of custody but under supervision and had no relationship with Marisol.
Roman’s mother attended.
She and Marisol were polite.
No instant repair.
Then married life.
Roman discovered Bibi left wet towels on floor.
Matteo refused to unload dishwasher.
Marisol snored.
Roman took calls too late.
Normal.
Then one conflict.
Roman disciplined Bibi by taking phone.
Marisol said:
“You’re not doing unilateral punishment.”
“I’m her stepfather.”
“Yes. And we agreed house rules together.”
He felt disrespected.
Old power reaction.
He left room before saying something stupid.
Then they discussed.
Roman apologized to Bibi:
“I used authority before agreeing with Mari.”
Bibi:
“Can I have phone back?”
“No.”
Marisol laughed.
Consequence remained, process corrected.
Then Roman’s father role deepened through boring things.
Dentist.
school pickup.
driving practice.
waiting outside dressing room.
college forms.
No bodyguards inside parent-teacher conference.
Then Matteo’s trust at eighteen.
He received financial education and gained partial control according to trust terms.
Roman offered advice.
Matteo said:
“I have an adviser.”
Roman:
“I’m also good with money.”
Matteo:
“You went to prison for money.”
The room exploded in laughter.
Roman accepted.
Specific expertise has limits.
Then Matteo used some trust funds for college and saved rest.
No family business obligation.
Then Bibi at fifteen asked about her biological mother.
Marisol had kept records.
Roman did not insert.
Bibi visited grave with Marisol.
Then asked Roman later:
“Do you ever feel like you replaced her?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because people aren’t chairs.”
Good.
Then:
“I’m your dad because you chose that relationship with me and I kept showing up. She is still your mother.”
Bibi hugged him.
Roman hugged back.
Then one day a reporter asked Roman:
“How many children did you adopt?”
“None.”
The reporter blinked.
“But you have nine?”
“No.”
Then he explained carefully:
Marisol adopted Bibi.
held guardianship for others.
several reunified with parents or relatives.
some adults consider him family.
The headline later said:
MAFIA BOSS RAISED NINE ABANDONED KIDS.
Still wrong.
Roman stopped correcting everything.
The children’s lives did not need accuracy from every stranger.
Then Marisol told him:
“You know what I hate about that headline?”
“What?”
“Abandoned.”
He looked.
Some were abandoned.
Some not.
Some parents were sick, imprisoned, dead, recovering, or unknown.
One word flattened.
Then:
“And found a father.”
Roman smiled.
“You hate that too?”
“Less.”
Then:
“They found lots of people.”
Caseworkers.
parents.
aunts.
therapists.
teachers.
Mari.
Roman.
Family was not one dramatic man entering a cold house.
That was merely one night.
The father part took years.
The first person outside Fenwick to call Roman “Dad” was not Bibi.
It was Luis.
Accidentally.
He was sixteen and living with his mother again.
They were at a basketball game.
Luis shouted:
“Dad, move—”
Then froze.
Roman froze.
Luis’s mother, Elena, looked over.
Nobody knew what to do.
Luis turned red.
“I meant Roman.”
Roman said:
“Okay.”
No claiming.
Later Elena asked him privately:
“Did that mean something to you?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to make it weird?”
“No.”
Good.
Then Luis apologized.
Roman stopped him.
“You don’t owe me an apology for a word.”
“Do you want me to call you that?”
“Only if you want.”
Luis never did again.
That was fine.
This family had enough titles already.
Then Bibi chose Dad deliberately years later because Roman was the person who attended school meetings, argued about curfew, brought soup when she was sick, and apologized when wrong.
Not because of one dramatic night.
Then Roman and Marisol’s wedding created another public myth.
Articles called her:
woman who tamed mafia boss.
She hated more than plus-size headlines.
“Tamed?”
Roman:
“I am not a horse.”
“Also I did not reform you.”
“Yes.”
He had changed because:
legal consequences.
victims.
therapy.
boards.
prison.
time.
choices.
Marisol was part of his life.
Not his moral mechanic.
They refused interviews.
Then Roman became more careful with the word father.
At a school form for Bibi after marriage, the line said:
Father/Parent 2.
He paused.
Bibi had written:
Roman Moretti.
He asked her.
“You sure?”
She rolled eyes.
“Yes.”
He signed.
That signature affected him more than corporate deals.
Then Matteo saw and teased:
“Don’t cry on paperwork.”
Roman:
“I’m not.”
He was.
Then years later Talia had a child.
She asked Marisol to be Grandma Mari.
Roman waited.
Talia looked at him.
“You can be Grandpa Roman.”
He blinked.
“Really?”
“You’re married to my mom-person. You show up. It’s fine.”
Not Dad.
Grandpa.
Families invent their own geometry.
Roman accepted.
Then the baby threw up on his suit.
Marisol laughed until she cried.
Power, finally defeated by formula.
The wedding also forced one practical conversation about money.
Roman had far more.
Marisol refused any arrangement where marriage would place Fenwick under his control.
They used separate counsel.
A prenuptial agreement kept the brownstone solely hers, preserved children’s existing trusts, and prevented Roman’s business liabilities from swallowing family assets where law allowed.
Roman did not take offense.
Years earlier, he might have.
Now he understood that love and financial independence could coexist.
Then Bibi asked why adults needed a contract before getting married.
Marisol said:
“Because good relationships still use clear rules.”
Roman added:
“Especially when one person has a complicated financial history.”
Matteo shouted from the hall:
“You mean prison.”
Roman:
“Yes, Matteo.”
No mythology survived that house.
After the marriage, Roman never asked the children to use the Moretti name.
Not Bibi.
Not Matteo.
Not anyone.
Bibi kept Vega after adoption because Marisol was Vega.
Matteo kept Leone.
Roman’s surname carried wealth, fear, and opportunities.
That was exactly why no child should be pressured to wear it as proof of belonging.
Family did not require rebranding.
Years later, Bibi would say the most fatherly thing Roman ever did was not the wedding, the court paperwork, or the money.
It was the night she called from college after failing an exam and expected him to solve it.
Roman listened.
Then said:
“That sounds awful.”
She waited.
No call to professor.
No donor pressure.
No threat.
No tutor hired without asking.
Finally Bibi snapped:
“Aren’t you going to do something?”
Roman said:
“I can help you think. I’m not going to make the grade disappear.”
She was furious.
Two days later she called back.
“That was annoying.”
“I know.”
“Also probably right.”
That was fatherhood too: having the power to interfere and choosing not to.
Then Matteo added his own version.
When his first investment lost money, Roman did not replace it.
“You told me diversification.”
“You ignored me.”
“Yes.”
“Then congratulations on tuition from the market.”
May you like
Matteo laughed despite himself.
The family had finally reached a point where ordinary mistakes were allowed to remain ordinary.
