Chapter 7 - The Empire We BuiltFive years later, the Chicago Tribune ran a very different kind of society profile.
The front-page spread featured a glossy, full-color photograph of the newly renovated Abbott-Callahan Cultural Center in Lincoln Park—a multi-million-dollar philanthropic institution dedicated to supporting young artists and entrepreneurs, funded entirely by our foundation.
Standing on the grand marble steps in the center of the photo wasn't an aging mafia boss or a bitter ex-fiancé.
It was me.
In a tailored ivory pantsuit, my hair falling in soft waves past my shoulders, with a laughing two-year-old toddler with dark hair and bright green eyes perched on my hip—our son, Julian. And standing just behind us, with one hand resting securely on my waist and the other holding our daughter’s small hand, was Ronan. His hair was completely silver at the temples now, his face lines slightly deeper, but his dark eyes shone with an unshakeable, fierce pride as he looked down at us.
As for Finn?
He had tried to crawl back six months after the board meeting, showing up at our Barrington estate looking like a broken man, begging for a junior desk job in the warehouse district. Viktor hadn't even let him past the security gates. Last I heard, he was living in a cramped studio apartment in Rogers Park, managing a failing car wash and wondering how he had managed to trade an empire for a handful of ash.
Meredith Shaw was tied up in federal indictments that took down three separate shell companies across the Midwest, her name whispered only as a cautionary tale in Chicago boardrooms.
And me?
I was no longer the naive twenty-four-year-old girl bringing homemade vodka sauce to a man who didn't deserve her. I was the matriarch of the Callahan house, the co-owner of an empire, and the woman who had walked into a River North bar looking for a distraction and walked out owning the entire city.
That evening, after the charity gala wrapped up and the kids were tucked safely into bed in our Barrington estate, Ronan and I sat out on the back stone patio. The autumn air was crisp, smelling of woodsmoke and damp earth, just like it had been five years ago.
Ronan poured two fingers of aged bourbon into a heavy crystal glass, handing it to me before taking the seat beside mine.
I clinked my glass against his, the crystal ringing clear and bright into the quiet night.
"To empires," I smiled, leaning my head against his shoulder.
May you like
Ronan wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close, his lips brushing my forehead.
"To the only woman who ever knew how to break the glass," he whispered.
