Chapter 10 - The Queen of ChicagoThe officiant pronounced us husband and wife, but there was no hesitation this time. Alexander pulled me into his arms, kissing me with a fierce, possessive intensity that made the walls of the chapel feel like they were shaking.

Six months later, at the annual Chicago Police and Business Gala, a new power couple walked into the grand ballroom.
The whispers didn't carry fear anymore; they carried absolute awe.
I wore a diamond necklace that had once belonged to European royalty, pinned neatly over a bespoke designer gown. On my arm, Alexander walked with the casual, devastating grace of a man who owned the city.
As we stood on the balcony overlooking the glittering skyline of Chicago, watching the lights stretch endlessly into the dark horizon, Alexander wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder.
"Penny for your thoughts, Mrs. Whitmore?" he murmured against my neck.
I looked out over the sprawling empire below us—the shipping ports, the gleaming towers, the absolute dominion we held over the city that had once tried to tear me apart.
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"I was just thinking," I smiled, turning in his arms to look up into his dark, dangerous eyes, "that you give the absolute best wedding proposals in history."
Alexander laughed—a deep, resonant sound that belonged only to me—and kissed my forehead. "And you, my love, are the only person in Chicago who knew how to collect on the debt."
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