Chapter 9 - The Empty Throne
The aftermath of the summit swept through the city like a cleansing storm.
Within forty-eight hours, federal indictments dismantled the remnants of Dominic's faction. The shipping routes, construction contracts, and union dues were formally returned to Vincent's direct control, managed securely through an encrypted home office. The underworld quickly realized that the Wolf of South District hadn't lost his teeth; he had simply retreated to his den to weed out the weak.
Back at the Corvino mansion, the atmosphere had fundamentally transformed. The terrified, whispering servants had been replaced by a professional, loyal staff handpicked by Tessa—people who respected Vincent not out of sheer terror, but out of genuine awe.
Vincent sat in his study—a grand, mahogany-paneled room on the ground floor that he had recently had retrofitted with a private elevator lift, allowing him freedom of movement without relying entirely on his bed.
He was looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows when a soft knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," Vincent said.
The door opened, revealing Tessa. She was back in her simple, elegant dark blue attire, holding a fresh cup of black coffee on a silver tray. But there was something different about her posture—a quiet confidence, a sense of belonging that hadn't been there on her first Tuesday shift months ago.
She walked over, placing the coffee on the mahogany desk beside him.
"The board of the shipping syndicate called," Tessa reported smoothly. "They want to schedule an in-person meeting for next Monday to ratify the new contracts under your direct signature."
Vincent turned his wheelchair slightly, looking up at her. He didn't reach for the coffee immediately. Instead, his dark eyes studied her face—the small scar over her eyebrow, the warm intelligence in her eyes, the steady strength of her hands.
"Let them wait," Vincent said softly.
Tessa paused, raising an eyebrow. "Mr. Corvino, these are multi-million-dollar contracts. Waiting could cause market volatility."
"Let them volatility," Vincent replied, a faint, rare smile touching the corners of his mouth. "I spent the last six months staring at a ceiling, Tessa. And for the last two months, you've been working double shifts, balancing my accounts, dodging hitmen, and managing an empire disguised as a maid."
He reached out, his warm, strong hand gently catching her wrist. Tessa stopped moving. She didn't pull away; her gaze locked onto his, her breath catching slightly in her throat.
"You're not my maid anymore, Tessa," Vincent said, his voice dropping into a rich, earnest register that made the room feel suddenly very small. "You haven't been for a long time."
Tessa's heart hammered against her ribs. She looked down at his hand holding her wrist, then back into his deep, intense eyes.
"What am I, then, Vincent?" she whispered, using his first name for the very first time.
May you like
Vincent stood up slowly using his armrests, planting his weight onto his legs with the help of his discreet braces, rising until he was standing face-to-face with her. He was taller than her, strong and unyielding, a king reclaiming his rightful place not on a throne of fear, but beside a woman of unbreakable spirit.
"You're my partner," Vincent said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "And if you'll have me... you're my queen."
