Chapter 8 - The Aftermath and the Boardroom Takeover
By Sunday morning, the headlines across every major news network from New York to Los Angeles didn’t feature photos of the social wedding of the year.
Instead, the front pages screamed: CRIME SYNDICATE SMASHED AT THE ALTAR: DEFENESTRATION OF THE DEMARCO-KENSINGTON ALLIANCE.
Inside the executive boardroom on the twenty-eighth floor of the DeMarco Logistics tower, the atmosphere was starkly different from the tense, paranoid environment of previous weeks.
The mahogany table was cleared of the backroom deals, fake invoices, and hidden surveillance wires that Vincent and Damian had used to control the company. Instead, it was piled high with legitimate restructuring audits, international shipping manifests, and clean financial reports.
Gabriel sat at the head of the table. Standing beside him, wearing a sharp, impeccably tailored navy-blue blazer and a crisp white blouse, was Evelyn Beckett.
The bandage on her side was gone, replaced by quiet confidence and the unmistakable aura of a woman who had walked through fire and come out on top.
The remaining board members—those who had been clean or loyal enough to survive the federal purge—sat in respectful silence as Evelyn clicked through a presentation on the main digital screen.
“As you can see from the Q3 logistics audit,” Evelyn’s voice was calm, clear, and commanding, “by severing our financial ties with the Kensington real estate trusts and redirecting the maritime security funds into our independent fleet expansion, we’ve increased our operating margins by twenty-two percent.”
One of the senior vice presidents nodded approvingly. “An exceptional restructuring, Miss Beckett. Frankly, the company hasn't run this cleanly since before the old guard took over.”
Gabriel watched her from the head of the table, a faint, genuine smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
When the meeting concluded and the board members filed out of the room, the heavy oak doors clicked shut, leaving the two of them alone in the quiet penthouse office.
Evelyn gathered her tablet and files, turning toward the door. “I’ll go down to HR and finalize the departmental transition paperwork for the new executive vice president position.”
“Wait,” Gabriel said softly.
Evelyn stopped, turning back to look at him. “Yes, Mr. DeMarco?”
Gabriel stood up, walked around the mahogany desk, and stopped just a few feet away from her. The harsh, intimidating demeanor that had terrified Chicago’s underworld for a decade was entirely gone, replaced by a quiet, steady vulnerability.
“For five years, you organized my calendar, managed my life, and kept this empire from tearing itself apart,” Gabriel said quietly. “And for three days, you risked your life to save mine while everyone else tried to destroy us.”
Evelyn looked down, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I just did my job, Gabriel.”
“No,” Gabriel corrected gently, reaching out to take her hand. His fingers were warm and strong. “Your job was being an executive assistant. What you did was be my savior.”
He stepped closer, lifting her chin so she had no choice but to meet his eyes.
“The penthouse on the Gold Coast has a magnificent view of the lake,” Gabriel murmured, his voice dropping an octave. “And my calendar is completely empty for the rest of our lives. What do you say we start with dinner tonight?”
Evelyn looked up into his gray eyes, seeing no lies, no manipulation, and no hidden traps—just a man who had finally learned how to see the person standing right in front of him.
A slow, radiant smile spread across her face.
May you like
“Only if I get to pick the restaurant,” Evelyn said.
Gabriel laughed—a rich, deep sound that filled the entire penthouse—and pulled her close against his chest.
