Chapter 8 - EMPIRE OF THE QUEENSSix months later, the spring sun broke warmly over the city, bathing the Moretti Estate—formerly the historic Whitman family vineyards and sprawling countryside manor—in golden light.
Grace stood on the grand stone veranda, a flute of sparkling cider in her hand, watching her three daughters run across the emerald lawn. Nine-year-old Emma was reading a book on economics under an oak tree; eight-year-old Sophie was practicing her gymnastics with a ribbon; and five-year-old Chloe was chasing butterflies with infectious, joyful laughter.
Behind her, heavy footsteps approached. Dante walked out, stepping beside her and handing her a fresh dossier bearing the gold seal of the international shipping commission.
"It's official," Dante said, a rare, proud smile touching his lips. "The European trade routes are fully integrated under your name. The board voted unanimously. You are officially the undisputed titan of the shipping syndicate."
Grace looked at the papers, then out at her daughters playing freely, safely, and powerfully in the sunlight.
"Thank you, Dante," she murmured, resting her head gently against his shoulder. "For everything you taught me. For every door you opened."
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Dante wrapped a strong arm around her waist, looking out over the sprawling estate that once belonged to the men who tried to destroy her.
"I didn't open doors, Grace," Dante said softly, kissing the top of her head. "I just watched you kick them down."
