Chapter 10 - The Empire and the StrayThe grand ballroom of the Westbridge Federal Courthouse glittered under thousands of crystal chandeliers. Senators, judges, high-ranking federal officials, and elite socialites mingled in expensive evening wear, sipping champagne and exchanging hollow pleasantries.
None of them knew what was coming.
The heavy mahogany double doors at the back of the ballroom swung open with a slow, deliberate creak.
All conversation died instantly. The room fell into a terrified, breathless silence.
Walking through the doors wasn't an army of armed thugs. It was Dominic Moretti.
He wore a custom charcoal-gray suit, a silver-white collar, and a black tie that looked like liquid shadow against his crisp shirt. His dark hair was brushed back, his face carved from unyielding marble.
And walking right beside him—stepping in perfect, proud rhythm across the polished marble floor—was a small golden-brown puppy wearing a miniature black silk bow tie around his neck.
Carrying the puppy in her arms was Emily Ross. She wore a stunning, deep emerald gown that caught the chandelier light, her posture straight, her chin held high, radiating a quiet, unbreakable strength.
Agent Miller, standing near the podium on the elevated stage, went completely white. His hand dropped toward his concealed holster, but before he could move, four federal marshals—agents belonging to an uncompromised internal affairs unit dispatched directly from Washington—stepped out from the shadows and placed heavy hands on his shoulders.
Dominic walked straight down the center aisle, the crowd parting before him like the Red Sea. Not a single man dared to breathe.
He stopped at the foot of the stage, looking up at the terrified federal agent.
"Agent Miller," Dominic’s voice boomed through the ballroom's sound system, clear and merciless. "You dropped something."
Dominic pulled the encrypted hard drive from his pocket and tossed it casually onto the stage, where it skidded to a halt right at the boots of the Attorney General, who had frozen behind the podium.
The Attorney General picked up the drive, plugged it into the podium’s master console, and watched the first encrypted file flash onto the massive projection screen behind him—revealing bank statements, audio confessions, and direct proof of Miller’s treason.
Chaos erupted in the ballroom as cameras flashed, reporters shouted questions, and federal marshals slapped handcuffs on Miller, dragging him kicking and screaming toward the exit.
Dominic didn't even look back at the spectacle. He turned his gaze down to Emily, who was smiling—a brilliant, radiant smile that completely transformed her face.
Down on the floor, Bolt let out a happy bark, wagging his tail so hard his entire back half wiggled.
Dominic reached out, taking Emily’s hand in his. He didn't care about the cameras, the reporters, or the powerful men watching in stunned silence.
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"Well, Miss Ross," Dominic whispered, his dark eyes burning with an intense, undeniable devotion. "It looks like your dog found a new home."
"He didn't just find a home," Emily whispered back, stepping closer into the warmth of his embrace as the flashbulbs illuminated their future. "He found an empire."
