Chapter 6 - The Embers of the PastTwo months later, the bitter Chicago winter finally began to yield to the damp, hopeful chill of an early spring. The snow piled high along Lake Shore Drive melted into gray slush, and the city’s skyline emerged from beneath months of slate-gray clouds into brilliant, piercing sunshine.
Inside the sunlit library of our new home—a sprawling, private estate nestled among the rolling hills of Lake Geneva, far away from the flashing cameras and concrete canyons of Manhattan and downtown Chicago—life moved at a rhythm of profound, unbroken peace.
I sat in a low-backed velvet armchair by the bay window, a warm cup of herbal tea resting on the table beside me, while Maya slept soundly in a wicker bassinet nearby. At two months old, she was thriving—gaining weight, sleeping through most of the night, and possessing a fierce, stubborn little kick when diaper changes took longer than she preferred.
The federal indictments against Roman Kingsley had officially dropped two weeks prior. Stripped of his wealth, abandoned by his high-society associates, and facing a mandatory prison sentence of eight to twelve years without the possibility of early parole, Roman was currently out on a heavily monitored ankle bracelet awaiting trial in a modest, nondescript high-rise apartment downtown—the exact kind of place he used to laugh at when driving past in his armored Maybach.
True to his word, Dominic Moretti had ensured that the legal destruction was thorough, surgical, and absolute.
Speaking of Dominic, a soft knock sounded at the library door before it slowly swung open.
He walked in, wearing a casual dark gray cashmere sweater instead of his usual tailored suit, holding two thick legal files under his arm. Over the past two months, Dominic had become a steady, comforting presence in our lives—not as a savior, but as a partner, a protector, and a quiet anchor who understood what it meant to rebuild an empire from the ground up.
"How is the little boss?" Dominic asked softly, stopping beside the bassinet and looking down at Maya with that same tender, unfiltered expression that always made my breath catch.
"She’s sleeping," I smiled, setting my teacup down. "Which means I have about twenty minutes of absolute silence before she decides she wants to rule the universe again. What are those?"
Dominic walked over and handed the files to me, taking a seat on the sofa opposite my chair.
"Final corporate restructuring documents for Kingsley Tech," Dominic said, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "The Moretti Foundation formally completed the hostile acquisition of the remaining assets this morning. We're rebranding the entire software division under a new subsidiary focused on secure digital infrastructure. And... I took the liberty of updating the corporate bylaws."
I opened the folder, scanning the legal text. My eyes widened slightly as I reached a specific clause.
"You named the primary philanthropic endowment fund... the Savannah & Maya Carter Foundation?" I looked up at him, stunned.
"Seventy percent of the annual dividends go directly toward supporting single mothers, domestic abuse survivors, and maternal healthcare initiatives across Illinois," Dominic said simply, meeting my gaze with unwavering earnestness. "It seemed only right that the wealth Roman accumulated by stepping on people should finally be used to lift them back up."
I stared at him, my throat tightening with a sudden, overwhelming rush of emotion. For years, I had believed that love was a transaction—something earned through obedience, silence, and quiet endurance. Dominic was teaching me that true partnership meant standing shoulder-to-shoulder, building something greater than yourself, and never once asking you to dim your light to make room for his ego.
"Thank you, Dominic," I whispered, my voice thick with feeling.
"Don't thank me yet," he teased gently, leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "I also brought a calendar."
I arched an eyebrow. "A calendar?"
"Spring is coming," Dominic said, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. "And there's a private beachfront estate in Amalfi that my family owns. The security protocols are airtight, the weather is gorgeous, and I happen to know a certain newborn who needs her first passport stamp."
I let out a genuine, unburdened laugh—the kind of laugh I hadn't felt in my chest for years.
"Are you asking me on vacation, Mr. Moretti?"
"I'm offering you a front-row seat to the rest of your life," Dominic replied, his voice dropping into that low, magnetic tone that made my heart skip a beat. "No fortresses. No armed guards standing outside the gates unless we want them there. Just sun, sea, and a fresh start."
May you like
I looked over at Maya, who let out a tiny, contented sigh in her sleep, her little fists curled up beneath her chin. Then I looked back at Dominic, seeing the unbroken horizon stretching out before us, vast and luminous and entirely ours to claim.
"Pack your bags," I smiled. "We're going to Italy."
