Chapter 15 - THE HEAD OF THE TABLE

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One year after the wedding that almost tore our lives apart, the autumn leaves fell like golden rain across the grounds of the Romano estate.
The evening sky was a deep, velvet indigo, illuminated by a full harvest moon hanging low over Lake Michigan.
Inside the grand dining room, a roaring fire crackled in the antique stone hearth, casting long, warm shadows across the walnut-paneled walls.
The room was set for a private family dinner—the first official gathering of the new Romano inner council.
At the center of the table stood the restored nineteen-twenty-two silver tureen, filled with steaming, fragrant seafood stew prepared by the head chef.
Seated along the sides were Nicholas, Isabella, my father Thomas, and Marco.
The laughter was easy, loud, and genuine, completely free of the toxic whispers and political games that had once poisoned every family meal.
At the far end of the long mahogany table, the chair that had once belonged to Elena Romano remained empty—a silent reminder of the past that had been overcome.
And at the head of the table sat Gabriel.
He sat tall, his posture commanding and relaxed, looking around the room with a quiet, profound contentment in his dark eyes.
The door to the dining room swung open, and I stepped inside, carrying a crystal decanter of vintage red wine from the private cellar.
I was wearing a dark sapphire velvet dress that swept the floor with effortless grace.
My hair fell in soft curls over my shoulders, and the platinum wedding band on my finger caught the candlelight with a brilliant, steady spark.
When Gabriel saw me, the conversation in his eyes ceased entirely.
He stood up immediately, walking around the long table to meet me in the center aisle.
He took the heavy crystal decanter from my hand and set it onto the sideboard with effortless ease.
Then, taking my right hand into his, he guided me toward the head of the table.
He didn't pull out the chair to his right, where tradition dictated the wife of a Don should sit.
Instead, Gabriel pulled out the heavy, carved oak armchair at the very head of the table—the seat of absolute authority.
“Gabriel,” I whispered, looking up at him with wide, questioning eyes.
“That is your chair.”
Gabriel smiled, a breathtaking, radiant smile that warmed my entire soul.
“A house does not have two heads, Catherine,” he said, his voice carrying clearly across the quiet room.
“It has one heart.”
He gently placed his hands on my shoulders, guiding me down into the seat of power.
Every person at the table stopped talking, watching with smiles of profound, unanimous approval.
My father raised his wineglass with a wink and a nod, his chest swelling with pride.
Nicholas and Isabella smiled warmly, raising their glasses in silent toast.
Gabriel did not walk away.
He pulled up a matching armchair, placing it directly beside mine, so close our shoulders brushed against each other.
He sat down beside me, intertwining his fingers with mine over the polished wood of the table.
His thumb traced the faint, white scars on my knuckles—the marks of the battle that had forged our kingdom.
“Are you comfortable, Donna Catherine?” Gabriel murmured, his voice rich with teasing warmth and infinite love.
I looked down the long table at my father laughing with Marco.
I looked at the silver crest gleaming beneath the chandeliers.
I looked at the man beside me, whose love had become my unbreakable shield and whose empire had become my home.
I lifted my wineglass with my healed hand, looking around the table with the calm, unshakeable certainty of a woman who had fought through hell to claim her rightful place.
“I am very comfortable, Gabriel,” I replied, my voice ringing clear and strong through the warm room.
“Because someone dressed like me belongs exactly where she is.”
Gabriel laughed, a rich, joyous sound that echoed up to the golden ceilings, and raised his glass to meet mine.
The crystal chimed with a clear, perfect note that signaled the beginning of a reign that would never be broken.
The table was full.
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The family was whole.
And the builder’s daughter was finally home.