Chapter 7 - Rebuilding the Throne
The months that followed reshaped the entire Chicago underworld. The remaining splinter factions of the Vance family were systematically dismantled, leaving the Moretti syndicate stronger, cleaner, and more unified than ever before.
Yet, inside the grand mansion, the atmosphere had undergone a miraculous transformation.
The heavy, oppressive silence that once haunted the hallways was replaced by the sound of genuine laughter. The armed guards standing outside our bedroom doors no longer guarded a prison; they guarded a sanctuary.
Alina and I sat by the fireplace in the private study. The crumpled twenty-seven pages of divorce papers had long ago been burned in the hearth, replaced by new parchment—documents legally transferring half of every asset, every account, and every title directly into her name. Not as a settlement, but as a true partnership.
“You’re spoiling me, Dante,” Alina smiled, leaning back against my chest as I wrapped my arms around her, resting my chin on her shoulder.
“You saved my life, Mrs. Moretti,” I murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “You deserve the world.”
Viktor knocked softly on the open doorway, clearing his throat. “Boss. The delegates from the New York families have arrived for the summit. They’re asking if Mrs. Moretti will be joining us at the head table.”
I looked down at Alina, raising an eyebrow. “Well, my love? Do you want to sit beside me and remind New York who really runs this country?”
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Alina stood up, smoothing down a stunning emerald silk dress that accentuated her fierce elegance. A confident, radiant smile graced her lips—the smile of a mafia queen who had conquered the most feared man in America not with fear, but with unwavering devotion.
“Let’s go show them, husband,” she said.
