Chapter 6 - Ashes and AmberTwo weeks later, the rain finally cleared, leaving behind a crisp, golden autumn afternoon that made the Chicago skyline look like cut glass against Lake Michigan.
I stood on the private balcony of my newly restored penthouse overlooking the Magnificent Mile, holding a glass of amber scotch. The wind caught my hair, carrying the distant hum of traffic below. The world I had known—the gilded cage, the whispers at parties, the constant, suffocating fear of a husband who saw me as property—was completely gone.
Footsteps approached softly behind me.
“The federal prosecutor just called,” Dante said, stepping out onto the balcony with a glass of his own. “Roman’s legal team tried to file an emergency injunction to access his personal commissary funds. Judge denied it within ten seconds.”
“Good,” I said, taking a small sip of the scotch. “Let him feel what it’s like to have nothing.”
Dante leaned against the iron railing beside me, looking out over the city. The late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden glow across his face, softening the hard lines that usually defined him.
“You know,” Dante said quietly, “when I picked you up outside the Drake Hotel, I thought I was rescuing a victim.”
I turned my head to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “And what do you think now?”
Dante smiled—a real, genuine smile that reached his eyes for the very first time. “I think I was the one who needed rescuing. You just brought me along for the ride.”
I laughed, a bright, clear sound that felt like it belonged to a completely different person—a girl who had been twenty once, before grief made her smart, before survival made her dangerous.
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“We made a good team, Dante,” I said.
“We do,” he corrected gently, clinking his glass against mine. “And the best part? The game hasn't even really started yet.”
