Updated Oct 23, 2025 • ~10 min read
LINA’S POV
Six weeks after the green card approval, we went back to court for the adoption hearing.
This time, no surprises. No forged emails. No anonymous objections. Just us, Natalia, and Judge Ashford.
“I’ve reviewed the evidence regarding the forged documents,” the judge said. “Mr. Thornton has been charged and his law license suspended. The emails he created have been proven false. Which brings us back to the original question—is this adoption in the best interest of the child?”
She looked at Celeste, now five months old, sitting in my lap and gnawing on her fist.
“Mr. Santoro, why do you want to adopt this child?”
Seb stood. “Because she’s my daughter. Not biologically, but in every way that matters. I was there when she was born. I held her when she was small enough to fit in my hands. I’ve been up every night since she came home. I’m the one she reaches for when she cries. I’m her father.”
“And Mr. Bennett, the biological father, supports this?”
Jasper stood from where he’d been sitting in the back. “Completely. Your Honor, I’m her biological father, but Sebastian is her dad. There’s a difference. I want what’s best for Celeste, and what’s best is having Sebastian as her legal father.”
Judge Ashford made notes. “Mrs. Santoro, you support this adoption as well?”
“Without question. Seb is Celeste’s father. This is just making official what’s already true.”
“Then I see no reason to deny this petition.” She signed the papers in front of her. “Mr. Santoro, congratulations. You are now the legal father of Celeste Santoro. This adoption is final.”
I burst into tears. Seb pulled me into his arms. Even Jasper was smiling.
“She’s yours,” I whispered. “Officially. Finally.”
“She always was,” Seb said. “But yeah. Officially is pretty good too.”
SEB’S POV
That night, we celebrated with a small dinner at home.
Just family. Lina, me, Celeste. Isabella on video call from Italy. Declan, Stella, even Jasper.
“To family,” Isabella toasted. “However we build it.”
“However we build it,” we echoed.
After everyone left, after Celeste was asleep, I found Lina on the balcony.
“Hey,” I said, joining her.
“Hey yourself.” She leaned into me. “Big day.”
“The biggest. I’m officially a dad.”
“You’ve been a dad for months.”
“I know. But now it’s legal. She’s mine. On paper. In every way.” I turned to face her. “Which brings me to something I’ve been thinking about.”
“Uh oh. You’re using your serious voice.”
“Because this is serious.” I pulled a small box from my pocket.
Her eyes went wide. “Seb, we’re already married. Twice.”
“I know. But hear me out.” I opened the box. Inside was a ring. Not like her wedding band—this one had a small diamond. Nothing huge, but real. “When I proposed the first time, it was a business deal. When we renewed our vows, it was beautiful but still tied to all the legal drama. I want to propose again. Just because I love you. Just because I choose you. No immigration issues. No custody battles. No courts or contracts. Just me, asking you to be my wife. Again. For real this time.”
“Seb, we’re already—”
“I know. But Lina, I want to choose you without any pressure. Without needing anything except you.” I took her hand. “Lina Moreno-Santoro, will you marry me? Not because I need a green card. Not because we have a daughter. Not because of any external reason. But because I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life choosing you every single day.”
She was crying. “That’s the same question.”
“But different reasons. Better reasons.”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’ll marry you. Again. For the third time. Because apparently we can’t get enough of wedding vows.”
I slid the ring onto her finger, next to her wedding band. It fit perfectly.
“Three times,” I said. “Third time’s the charm?”
“The first two times were pretty charming already.”
“True. But this one’s different.”
“How?”
“Because we’re not running from anything or toward anything. We’re just… here. Together. Because we want to be.”
She kissed me. Soft and slow and full of everything we’d been through to get to this moment.
“So when’s the third wedding?” she asked.
“Who said anything about a third wedding?”
“You just proposed again. Third proposal requires a third wedding. Those are the rules.”
“I don’t think those are actual rules.”
“They are now. I’m making them up.” She grinned. “Besides, your mother will be furious if we get married again without inviting her.”
“We renewed our vows with her there.”
“That doesn’t count. She wants the full Italian wedding experience. Big ceremony. Huge reception. All the relatives.”
“We have a five-month-old baby.”
“Who will look adorable in a flower girl dress.”
“She can’t even walk yet.”
“We’ll figure it out. Like we always do.”
I pulled her closer. “You’re serious about this.”
“Completely. Third wedding. Italy. Next summer. Your mom plans it, we show up and say ‘I do’ for the third time.”
“You’re insane.”
“You love me anyway.”
“I really do.”
LINA’S POV
Planning a wedding while raising a baby was chaos.
But Isabella thrived on chaos. She called daily with updates. Venues. Flowers. Guest lists that kept growing.
“Mama, we said small,” Seb protested during one call.
“This is small! Only two hundred people.”
“That’s not small!”
“For an Italian wedding, it’s tiny. Trust me. I’m keeping it intimate.”
After she hung up, Seb looked at me in horror. “Two hundred people.”
“Your family is huge. What did you expect?”
“I expected maybe fifty people. A nice garden ceremony. Not a production.”
“Too late. Your mother’s in charge now. We’re just along for the ride.”
“We could elope.”
“We basically did that the first time. This time we’re doing it right.”
“Right means two hundred people watching us say vows we’ve already said twice?”
“Exactly.”
He groaned but smiled. “You’re enjoying this.”
“I am. Because this time there’s no pressure. No hidden agenda. Just us, celebrating our love in front of everyone who matters.”
“When you put it that way…”
“It sounds perfect?”
“It sounds expensive and overwhelming and exactly like something my mother would plan.”
“Embrace it. We’re having an Italian wedding.”
“Can we at least keep our daughter from being launched as a flower girl before she can walk?”
“I make no promises.”
SEB’S POV
Six months later, we were in Italy.
The venue was a villa in Tuscany that Isabella had rented for the week. Our two hundred “intimate” guests filled every room. Celeste, now almost a year old, was being passed around by relatives I’d forgotten existed.
“She’s going to be so spoiled,” Lina said, watching my aunt pinch Celeste’s cheeks.
“She’s already spoiled. My mother bought her seven dresses for this weekend alone.”
“Only seven? That’s restrained for Isabella.”
The morning of the wedding, Declan found me having a minor panic attack.
“You’ve already married her twice,” he said. “Why are you nervous?”
“Because this time everyone’s watching. And judging. And expecting something perfect.”
“So give them perfect. You love her. She loves you. The rest is just show.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one getting married in front of two hundred Italians.”
“True. But I am the one giving a speech. So you’d better not embarrass me by passing out.”
The ceremony was at sunset. Lina walked down the aisle in a dress that made me forget how to breathe. Isabella walked beside her—standing in as her mother, since Lina’s mom couldn’t make the trip.
Celeste was there too, held by Stella, wearing one of the seven dresses Isabella had bought.
The officiant spoke in Italian and English. The vows were the same ones we’d said twice before, but they felt different here. Heavier. More real.
“I, Sebastian, take you, Lina…”
Third time saying these words. Third time meaning them more than the time before.
When it was Lina’s turn, her voice was steady.
“I, Lina, take you, Sebastian… for the third and final time, because honestly, if we have to do this again, we need to examine our life choices.”
Everyone laughed. Even the priest.
“I promise to love you, to choose you, to build our life together. Not because contracts say so, or courts require it, or immigration demands it. But because you’re mine and I’m yours and nothing is ever going to change that.”
“You may kiss the bride,” the priest said. “Again.”
I kissed her. In front of two hundred people. In front of our daughter. In front of God and Italy and everyone who’d doubted we’d make it this far.
And when we pulled apart, the crowd erupted.
LINA’S POV
The reception was everything Isabella promised and more.
Food. Wine. Dancing. Speeches that made everyone cry or laugh or both.
Declan’s speech was particularly good: “My brother married Lina three times. Most people can’t even get one marriage right. But Seb’s an overachiever. He had to prove his love through multiple ceremonies, court battles, deportation scares, and apparently, excessive Italian relatives. If that’s not commitment, I don’t know what is.”
Jasper had flown over too, bringing a date—a kind woman named Veronica who worked in tech. He held Celeste during the father-daughter dance, swaying with her while she giggled.
“Thank you for letting me be part of this,” he told me later.
“You’re her biological father. Of course you’re part of this.”
“But Seb’s her dad. And that’s okay. Better than okay, actually.” He smiled. “She’s lucky to have both of you.”
“We’re lucky to have you too. For being mature about all of this.”
“I’m trying. Turns out growing up is harder than it looks.”
Late that night, after most guests had gone to bed, Seb and I found ourselves alone on the villa’s terrace.
“We did it,” I said. “Third wedding. Final wedding.”
“Until we renew our vows for our fiftieth anniversary.”
“That’s in forty-nine years. I think we can skip a few ceremonies before then.”
“Probably wise.” He pulled me into his arms. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For saying yes. Three times. For fighting for us. For being the best partner I could have asked for.”
“You make it sound like I had a choice.”
“You did. Every day, you chose me. That’s not nothing.”
“No,” I agreed. “It’s everything.”
We stood there under the Italian stars, in the place where Seb was born, surrounded by family and love and proof that sometimes the messiest beginnings lead to the most beautiful endings.
💋 This scene continues with an exclusive bonus chapter on Patreon! Want to see their Italian honeymoon night in the Tuscan villa? The uncut, steamy version is available now at patreon.com/hauda – along with early access to all new stories, extended epilogues, and more explicit content.
“Ready to go home?” Seb asked.
“Where’s home?”
“Wherever you are.”
“That’s very romantic. But I meant literally. We have an apartment in New York and a very jet-lagged baby who’s going to be a nightmare on the flight back.”
He laughed. “Then let’s go home. To New York. To our real life.”
“Our real life,” I echoed. “I like the sound of that.”
Because it was real. Finally, completely, undeniably real.
No more contracts. No more courts. No more proving ourselves.
Just us. Our family. Our future.
Everything we’d fought for.
Everything we’d earned.
Everything we’d chosen.
Together.
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