“I am new to this,” he admitted, opening the box to reveal a stunning, vintage emerald ring that perfectly matched the dress she had worn to the gala. “I will not ask you to be my wife because the commission approves, or because enemies are watching. I am asking because you walked into the darkest parts of my life and chose the light. Marry me, Nora. With your own lawyer, your own money, your own choices, and my entire life spent proving that my love will never be a cage.”
Nora knelt on the floor in front of him, taking his face in her hands. “I’m still going to argue with you.”
“I expect it.”
“And I’m keeping my own bank accounts.”
“I already opened three.”
“And if your commission men speak to me like I’m furniture, I will embarrass them.”
Dante smiled, a real, devastating smile that reached his eyes. “I look forward to it.”
“Yes,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him.
A year later, Nora returned to the Palmer House Hilton for the annual charity gala. She didn’t wear emerald this time. She wore a stunning, form-fitting midnight blue gown that celebrated every curve of her body. She walked into the ballroom on Dante’s arm, her head held high. The room still whispered, but the tone had changed. They didn’t see a placeholder wife anymore. They saw the woman who had brought down Silas Thorne with a burner phone and a choice. They saw the woman who had anonymously bought the diner where she used to work, raising the wages for the night-shift staff.