Chapter 7 - The True VowThe morning sun poured through the high glass windows of the Blackwell estate, bathing the master suite in warm, golden light.
There were no separate rooms anymore. The connecting door stood wide open, permanently unlocked.
Elena woke up wrapped in warmth, her head resting securely against Roman’s shoulder. His arm was banded protectively around her waist, holding her as if he would never let go. The cold billionaire of Manhattan, the feared king of the underworld, looked entirely at peace, his face softened by sleep, holding the only thing in the world he truly couldn't live without.
When his blue eyes fluttered open, he didn't reach for his phone, didn't check the morning briefings, and didn't put on the icy mask. He simply looked down at her with a quiet, devastating adoration.
"Good morning, wife," he murmured, his morning voice deep and rough against her hair.
"Good morning, husband," Elena smiled, shifting upward to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.
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There were no contracts left to sign. No debts to pay. No enemies at the gates. There was only the quiet certainty of a love they had fought to build from the ashes of a forced arrangement.
Roman pulled her tighter against him, burying his face in her neck as the world outside their fortress continued to spin, finally knowing that he had won the only battle that ever mattered.
