Chapter 9 - Ashes of the PastDawn broke over Lake Zurich, painting the snowy peaks in shades of pale gold and bruised purple. The Swiss federal police, summoned via Dominic’s private international security protocols, had arrived to haul Thomas Carter and his surviving mercenaries away in chains.
Mom sat wrapped in heavy woolen blankets inside the mansion's grand foyer, sipping hot tea while a team of elite Swiss physicians checked her vital signs. Her heart monitor beeped in a steady, healthy rhythm.
Dominic stood by the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the police vans drive down the winding mountain road. He turned around, walking slowly across the Persian rug toward me.
"You handled that like a veteran caporegime," Dominic said, leaning against the stone fireplace. "Your father is heading to a maximum-security black site where no amount of money will ever buy him out."
"He was never a father," I said quietly, staring down at my hands—the same hands that had scraped birthday cake off marble floors just a week ago. "He was just an arithmetic problem I finally solved."
Dominic reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a sleek, black titanium key card embossed with the Moretti crest. He held it out toward me.
"Your mother's medical bills are paid in full for the rest of her natural life, backed by my personal trust," Dominic said evenly. "And the Cicero apartment is gone—replaced by a secure estate in Tuscany or Miami, whichever she prefers. But as for you, Avery... my offer to run the European division of the syndicate still stands."
I looked at the key card, then up into Dominic’s dark, unreadable eyes. I had started this journey as a desperate delivery woman begging for crumbs. Now, I held the ledger to an empire.
"I don't want to run your syndicate, Dominic," I said, a slow, confident smile touching my lips as I took the key card from his hand. "I want to be a full partner. Fifty-fifty split, starting with your Chicago operations."
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Dominic stared at me for a long, silent moment. Then, for the first time since I met him, he threw his head back and laughed—a rich, genuine sound that echoed off the ancient stone walls.
"Deal, partner," Dominic murmured, raising his glass of bourbon to mine.
