My mother’s hand squeezed my wrist so hard her manicured nails nearly bit into my skin, but I didn't wince. I simply looked at her—really looked at her—and saw the panic breaking through her carefully painted mask.

The cathedral doors swung open to the roaring sound of a pipe organ playing a dark, magnificent processional.

As I walked down the long, red-carpeted aisle on Nikolai’s arm, the entire room stood up. Hundreds of Chicago's elite bowed their heads in respect as we passed.

There were no tears, no dramatic interruptions. Julian was rotting in a black-site cell, Serena and my parents were exiled to a suburban townhouse living off a strict allowance, and the city knew exactly who held the reins of power now.

We stood at the altar, looking into each other's eyes as the archbishop read the vows.

"Do you, Nikolai Moretti, take Evelyn Hart to be your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold, in victory and in war, until death do you part?"

"I do," Nikolai said, his voice echoing through the massive stone cathedral with absolute, unwavering certainty. He slipped a massive, flawless black diamond ring onto my finger.

"And do you, Evelyn Hart, take Nikolai Moretti to be your lawful wedded husband?"

I looked into Nikolai’s eyes—the man who saw my true value when everyone else treated me like an utility, the man who gave me the weapons to destroy my past and build my future.

"I do," I spoke firmly.

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Nikolai pulled me into his arms, dipping me slightly as his lips locked onto mine in a deep, passionate kiss that sealed our alliance before God, the Mafia, and high society. The crowd erupted into thunderous, roaring applause.

At the reception that night, the celebration was legendary. The Champagne flowed like rivers, the food was exquisite, and the power dynamic of the Midwest was officially rewritten.

As Nikolai and I stood on the VIP balcony overlooking the massive ballroom filled with dancing guests, my assistant approached me with a sealed leather binder.

"Mrs. Moretti," my assistant said respectfully, handing me the document. "The final takeover papers for Hart Enterprises have cleared probate. You are now officially the CEO, Chairman, and ninety-percent shareholder."

I took the binder, feeling the smooth leather under my fingers.

Nikolai wrapped his arm around my shoulder, clinking his glass against mine. "Congratulations, CEO Moretti."

I took a sip of champagne, looking down at the crowd, feeling no lingering ghosts of my past, no self-doubt, no pain.