"The Billionaire Mob Boss Was Moments Away From a Power Marriage—Until Four Mini-Me Boys Walked Into a Restaurant Restroom and Blew Up His Entire Empire!" / Chapter 37 / 50

Chapter 37 - Preparations for Autumn

August arrived with the golden, languid warmth of late summer, signaling that our time at the coastal sanctuary was drawing to a close. The days grew slightly shorter, the morning air gained a crisp New England bite, and the rhythmic routine of school preparations once again occupied our thoughts.

Inside the Chatham estate's great hall, trunks and leather satchels were laid out across the long trestle tables. Elena was conducting a comprehensive logistical review of the boys' autumn wardrobes, assisted by two tailors who had driven down from Newbury Street to measure the quadruplets for their second-grade blazers at St. Sebastian’s.

"Two inches of growth across the shoulders for all four of them," the master tailor announced in astonishment, adjusting his measuring tape around Dante’s chest. "In three months! It’s extraordinary. They’re shooting up like young saplings, Mrs. Moretti."

"It’s the ocean air and fifty pounds of lobster," Elena laughed, checking off items on her tablet. "Make sure the blazer sleeves have enough interior allowance for another growth spurt before Christmas. If they keep growing at this rate, they’ll be taller than their uncles by middle school."

"I am already taller than Marco by three-eighths of an inch," Dante announced proudly, stepping off the tailor’s stool and puffing out his chest.

"A temporary statistical anomaly caused by your posture," Marco shot back, crossing his arms and glaring at his brother's chin. "I hold the superior wingspan."

"Wingspan is irrelevant in a boardroom," Mateo noted calmly from the sofa, where he was reading an introductory volume on maritime trade law. "Height gives Dante a psychological advantage during opening negotiations."

"Enough, mini-tycoons," I intervened, walking into the hall carrying four sets of custom-made leather baseball gloves. "The tailors are finished. The tide is out, and the sandbar at the cove is completely exposed. Who wants to play ball?"

The transformation from miniature corporate strategists to wild seven-year-old boys was instantaneous. The four of them let out an uncoordinated yell of pure joy, abandoning their dignified postures and sprinting toward the front doors in a scramble of sneakers and flying elbows.

Elena walked over to me, wrapping her arms around my neck, her hazel eyes dancing with warmth. "You're spoiling them, Dominic."

"A father is supposed to spoil his sons on the last week of summer," I said, leaning down to capture her lips in a deep, lingering kiss that left her slightly breathless. "Besides, next week we return to the city. Back to meetings, boardrooms, and Headmaster Vance's nervous breakdowns."

"Vance survived their first year," Elena smiled against my lips. "He’ll survive second grade. Although I hear Gregory Barrett has enrolled his daughter in the primary kindergarten."

I raised an eyebrow with a slow, dangerous grin. "Gregory hasn't learned his lesson yet?"