The cabin air suddenly felt thin, the pressurized hum of the twin-engine jet dissolving into a low, static roar in my ears.

By the time the NYPD and federal marshals arrived at the TriBeCa studio, Ronald Vance was zip-tied to a steel chair, bleeding slightly from the jaw and regretting every single life choice that led him back to New York.

Marcus stood by the entrance, quietly managing the federal agents and ensuring that the media didn't catch wind of the incident. In our world, discretion was currency, and Moretti Holdings had plenty of it.

"He'll be extradited to a maximum-security federal penitentiary in Colorado by morning," Marcus reported quietly, handing me a digital tablet to sign off on the transfer manifests. "None of his associates are left in the city. The board is secure, the family is secure, and the threat is permanently neutralized."

"Good," I said, signing my name with a digital stylus. "Make sure he stays in solitary. I don't ever want his name spoken in the same sentence as my family again."

When Marcus stepped outside to handle the paperwork, I walked back into the private office area of the studio where Naomi was sitting on a velvet sofa, still holding a cup of herbal tea Julie had rushed over to deliver. Lily was curled up in her lap, fast asleep, exhausted by the sudden excitement of being picked up early from the museum by Uncle Marcus.

I sat down beside them, wrapping my arm around Naomi’s shoulders and pulling her close.

"You didn't have to fight him like an action hero, you know," Naomi murmured softly, a slight smile touching the corners of her lips despite the lingering paleness in her face. "You have a security detail for that."

"When someone threatens my wife and my daughter, I don't outsource," I replied simply, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Naomi turned her head, looking at me with those deep, expressive eyes. "Your wife? Did you just slip an engagement ring into a casual sentence?"

I smiled, sliding a small velvet box out of my jacket pocket and setting it on the coffee table between us.

"I was going to wait for a romantic dinner overlooking the skyline," I confessed, "or a trip to Paris. But after tonight, I realized life is too unpredictable to wait for the right moment. We've already lost five years to shadows and lies, Naomi. I'm not wasting another second."

I opened the box. Resting inside was a custom-designed diamond ring featuring a delicate band of interwoven platinum shaped like a climbing vine—a subtle nod to her design studio and the way our lives had stubbornly intertwined against all odds.

Naomi gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes. "Dante..."

"Marry me, Naomi," I said, my voice dropping away all the tough exterior, leaving only raw, honest truth. "Be my partner, my anchor, my home. Help me raise our daughter, and let me spend the rest of my life proving to you that you never have to run again."

Naomi didn't hesitate. She threw her arms around my neck, nearly knocking us both off the sofa, and whispered fiercely against my ear, "Yes. Yes, a million times yes."

Across her lap, Lily stirred sleepily, opening her silver-gray eyes and looking up at us.

"Are we getting cake?" she asked sleepily.