Chapter 7 - The Sovereign QueenThe night of the Moretti annual gala was the most anticipated event of the Chicago social season. Every billionaire, politician, and syndicate boss in the Midwest packed the grand ballroom of the Halston Hotel—the very same ballroom where Julian Moretti had tried to humiliate me three weeks ago.
This time, the room belonged to us.
I stood at the top of the grand marble staircase alongside Nikolai, wearing a gown of woven silver silk that caught the light of a thousand crystal chandeliers with every breath I took.
At the bottom of the stairs, standing in a corner near the service entrance, were Julian and Serena.
Julian had lost his position at the firm, his social standing, and his inheritance. Serena wore a simple, unbranded dress, her face pale and drawn, reduced to scavenging for scraps in a world where they had once believed they were royalty. When Julian looked up at me, his eyes were filled with a toxic mix of regret, fury, and helpless awe.
I didn't even give him the courtesy of my gaze. I looked past him, focusing on the horizon of the city glowing brilliantly through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Nikolai turned to me, a rare, genuine smile touching the corners of his lips. He raised his crystal flute of champagne, gently clinking it against mine.
“To the real Hart sister,” Nikolai murmured softly, his dark eyes burning with fierce, unyielding devotion. “Queen of Chicago.”
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I smiled back, the platinum band of my true wedding ring glowing beneath the chandeliers, safe in the knowledge that I had never needed anyone's permission to rule.
“To the war we won,” I replied, and drank to our empire.
