Blood was already running down my legs when my husband’s final text lit up my phone: “Getting married in Cabo. You’re on your own.” I was thirty-two weeks pregnant with twins, abandoned, cut off from our money, and fighting to keep my babies alive

One year later.

The summer sun beat down warmly upon the terrace of Blackwood Manor, turning the Atlantic into an endless expanse of dancing diamonds. The sea breeze was soft, carrying the sweet scent of wild roses and honeysuckle blooming along the stone balustrades.

In the grass below, Leo and Grace were celebrating their first birthday.

Leo was walking—stumbling on chubby legs, chasing a golden retriever puppy across the lawn, his laughter ringing out like bells. Grace was sitting on a thick quilt under the shade of an ancient elm, clapping her hands together, a crown of white daisies resting in her dark, curly hair.

Mrs. Gable was cutting a tiered birthday cake decorated with miniature sailboats, surrounded by a dozen people from the firm—the architects, engineers, and city planners who now ran Campbell-Russo Design.

I stood on the upper terrace, holding a glass of iced tea, watching my children.

I wore an ivory linen dress, simple and elegant. My hair fell in soft waves over my shoulders, and around my neck rested the antique silver locket containing my mother's portrait.

Over the last twelve months, Boston had changed.

With Sal Moretti gone and the true deeds in my possession, the entire criminal apparatus of South Boston had been dismantled. The properties had been seized, cleaned, and transferred to a community development trust managed by my firm. The docks were legitimate now. The waterfront was being rebuilt into parks, affordable housing, and public libraries.

Bradley Vance was currently serving forty-five years at ADX Florence for racketeering, wire fraud, and conspiracy to commit murder. His appeals had been denied. His family had ceased to exist in Boston society. Britney had turned state's evidence in exchange for three years of probation, living in obscurity in an Ohio suburb.

They were ghosts. Faded ink on old paper.

A pair of strong arms slipped around my waist from behind.

Dominic pressed his chest against my back, resting his chin lightly on my shoulder. He was wearing an open-collared white linen shirt and dark trousers, looking relaxed, powerful, and utterly at peace.

"What are you thinking about?" he murmured against my ear, his breath warm against my neck.

"About how close I came to never seeing this," I replied, leaning back into his solid frame, covering his hands with mine. "One year ago today, I thought my life was over. I thought my babies would die in an incubator while I bled out on a linoleum floor."

Dominic turned me around in his arms, his dark amber eyes holding mine with a tenderness that still made my breath catch after all these months.

"You were never going to die, Rachel," he said softly. "The universe doesn't destroy something that magnificent."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box.

My heart skipped a violent beat.

Dominic didn't drop to one knee. He was not a man who knelt before anyone, and I wouldn't have wanted him to. He stood tall, equal to me, holding the box between us.

He opened it.

Inside was not a massive diamond like the vulgar stone Bradley had bought to show off his wealth. It was an antique emerald, deep and sea-green, flanked by two brilliant trillion-cut diamonds, set in handcrafted platinum. It was timeless, regal, and fiercely beautiful.

"Tomorrow morning, the final papers for the Campbell-Russo holding company will be finalized," Dominic said, his voice dropping into that deep, intoxicating timber that always made the world fade away. "You have your own wealth now, Rachel. You have your own company. You have full custody of the children, your own fortune, and your own name. You don't need me to protect you anymore."

He looked down at the ring, then back into my eyes.

"I promised your father I would stand between you and the dark until you were safe. You are safe now. The debt of honor is paid. If you want to take the children, move to Europe, build your buildings, and live a life untouched by my shadow... I have already prepared the trust funds and the deeds. You can walk away today, completely free."

My chest tightened. Tears pricked my eyes, but I didn't blink.

"And what if I don't want to walk away?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Dominic’s jaw tightened, the fierce, raw longing he had suppressed for a year finally breaking through the surface of his eyes.

"Then you take this ring," Dominic said, stepping closer until there was no space left between us. "You take my name. You stand beside me not as a ward, not as a client, but as the Queen of this empire. You rule Boston with me, Rachel. As my equal. As my wife."

The wind gusted up from the cliffs below, whipping the hem of my dress against my legs.

Down on the lawn, Leo let out a delighted squeal as he caught the puppy’s tail. Grace clapped her hands, looking up toward the terrace, her bright eyes catching the summer sun.

I looked at the emerald ring resting in the velvet box.

Then, I looked up into the dark amber eyes of Dominic Russo—the man who had pulled me from the jaws of death, who had broken my abusers, who had given me back my soul, and who had loved me without demanding a single piece of me in return.

I reached out my hand.