Chapter 8 - The Queen of the East CoastThree months later.
The private courtyard of the Moretti Estate in upstate New York was bathed in the golden light of an autumn afternoon. Towering oak trees lined the perimeter, their leaves turning shades of amber and crimson, while high stone walls and discreet security cameras ensured the outside world remained entirely locked away.
In the center of the courtyard sat a sprawling stone fountain, surrounded by white roses—thousands of them, blooming in pristine perfection.
Grace Bennett stood before a tall, ornate mirror inside a sunlit dressing room overlooking the gardens.
She wasn't wearing pale blue scrubs anymore.
Instead, she wore a bespoke, elegant ivory silk gown that hugged her figure with effortless grace, its neckline bordered with delicate silver thread that caught the light like starlight. Her brown hair was swept up into an intricate, sophisticated chignon, a few soft tendrils framing her face. On her finger sat a simple, heavy platinum band embedded with a single, flawless diamond—not flashy like Vanessa’s jewels, but carrying an unyielding, unbreakable weight.
The door clicked open, and Detective Marcus Vance stepped into the room, holding a leather-bound portfolio under his arm. He looked sharp in a dark charcoal suit, though he still had that permanent shadow of stubble.
“You clean up alright, Grace,” Vance said with a dry, approving smirk, leaning against the doorframe. “Though I have to admit, seeing you in a silk gown instead of covered in blood and plaster dust feels a bit unnatural.”
Grace turned, smiling as she smoothed the front of her dress. “Thank you, Detective. Though I reserve the right to carry trauma shears in my garter just in case things get rowdy.”
Vance laughed, stepping forward and handing her the portfolio. “Federal judge signed off on the final asset forfeiture transfers this morning. The Bellini estate has been officially liquidated, and the shipping lanes are fully under Moretti control. As for little Leo—he’s officially adopted under a sealed federal protection registry. He’s currently beating the head chef in a video game in the west wing.”
Grace let out a breath of pure, unadulterated relief, flipping open the portfolio to check the documents. “Thank you, Marcus. For everything. If you hadn't looked the other way that night...”
“I didn't look the other way for you, Grace. I looked the other way because the city needed a cleaner broom,” Vance interrupted gently. He checked his watch. “Speaking of brooms, your groom is waiting in the courtyard. And trust me, he’s looked at his watch four times in the last two minutes. The man who stared down a firing squad is terrified you’re going to change your mind.”
Grace’s heart skipped a beat.
She took a deep breath, picked up her bouquet of white roses, and walked toward the grand double doors leading out to the courtyard.
The heavy oak doors swung open.
Standing beneath an archway of white roses was Dominic Moretti.
He wore a tailored black tuxedo that fit his broad, powerful frame to perfection. The scars from the warehouse fire were mostly faded now, hidden beneath fine fabric and time, but the cold, steel-gray eyes that had once terrified Manhattan were now entirely, softly fixed on her.
As Grace walked down the stone pathway toward him, every guest in attendance—consisting of loyal syndicate captains, high-ranking judges, and trusted allies—stood up in absolute, reverent silence.
Not out of fear. But out of respect for the woman who had brought the devil himself back from the dead—and taught him how to love.
Dominic reached out, taking her hand in his strong, calloused grip. His thumb brushed gently over her knuckles.
“You look breathtaking,” Dominic whispered, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that sent a shiver straight down her spine.
“You don't look so bad yourself for a dead man, Mr. Moretti,” Grace whispered back with a teasing smile.
Dominic let out a rare, genuine laugh that echoed softly across the courtyard. He pulled her closer, his gaze burning with an intensity that promised a lifetime of absolute protection, fierce loyalty, and unending power.
May you like
“Welcome home, Mrs. Moretti,” he said softly.
And as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the New York sky in shades of gold and fire, Grace knew her shift was finally over. She was exactly where she belonged.
