Chapter 8 - ASHES TO ASHESBy midnight, the grand ballroom of the Moretti Grand Hotel was completely empty, save for a few forensic teams dusting for prints and bagging abandoned champagne flutes.
The glittering wedding celebration had transformed into a crime scene.
I stood on the private penthouse balcony overlooking the glittering expanse of downtown Chicago. The wind was biting now, carrying the chill of late autumn, but I felt only warmth. The heavy leather case containing the final copies of the evidence sat securely on the mahogany table inside.
My phone buzzed in my coat pocket.
It was a text from Marcus: All federal mirror servers updated. Indictments locked in. The Moretti assets are officially frozen pending asset forfeiture.
I let out a long, shuddering breath—the first truly untainted breath I had taken in five years of marriage.
In my arms, little Elena stirred, letting out a soft, sleepy yawn before snuggling deeper against my chest. Her tiny fingers curled instinctively around my thumb.
"You're safe now, my sweet girl," I whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "No shadows. No empires. Just us."
Behind me, the glass doors slid open softly. I didn't turn around; I knew the steady, measured footsteps anywhere.
"The car is waiting downstairs, maána," Marcus said quietly, stepping up beside me and offering a warm, protective wool shawl, draping it gently over my shoulders. "Private jet departs for Geneva in an hour. New identities, new accounts, and complete anonymity are all set up."
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I looked out over the skyline, watching the red aviation warning lights blinking steadily on top of the distant skyscrapers.
"Let's go home, Marcus," I said softly.
