They told Dante Cavallaro that Sophie Miller had stolen one hundred thousand dollars from his private safe and disappeared with the one ledger capable of destroying his empire.

Three months later.

The spring sun rose over Lake Michigan, painting the Chicago skyline in shades of gold and amber.

The Cavallaro syndicate had been completely restructured. The trainers were gone, Vane's remnant territories had been absorbed, and for the first time in a decade, the most feared name in the city was associated with absolute, unassailable stability.

Inside the penthouse, the air smelled of fresh coffee and blooming orchids.

Sophie stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, wearing a simple silk dress, watching the boats move along the river far below.

Footsteps almost softly from behind.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against a warm, solid chest. Dante rested his chin on her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her hair.

“You're up early,” he murmured.

“I like watching the city wake up,” she said softly, leaning back into his embrace. “It feels different now.”

"How so?"

“Before, it felt like everyone was watching me, waiting for me to make a mistake so they could destroy me.” She turned into his arms, looking up into his dark, steady eyes. “Now... it just feels like home.”

Dante smiled—a rare, genuine smile that reached his eyes, softening the sharp, dangerous angles of his face.

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

Sophie's breath caught. “Dante... what is this?”

“When I thought you were gone, I realized something,” Dante said, his voice dropping into a low, earnest register. “I spent my whole life believing that family was a weakness, and that love was just another word for leverage. You proved me wrong.”

He opened the box.

Inside rested a stunning diamond ring, flanked by two small emeralds—the color of the eyes that had looked at him without fear on the very first day she walked into his study.

“I'm not asking you to be my maid, Sophie,” Dante said quietly, looking deep into her soul. “And I'm not asking you to be a survivor. I'm asking you to be my partner. My equal. My home.”

Tears welled in Sophie's eyes, but this time, they were tears of pure, unadulterated joy.

She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face against his shoulders.