Chapter 9 - The New Rules
The fallout from the grain silo standoff shook the American underworld to its foundation.
New York pulled back completely from the Midwest, terrified of the digital dead-man's switch Zo had constructed. Sal Moretti was indicted on twenty-four federal counts, his entire organization dismantled within weeks by federal prosecutors.
And Zo Rossi stood at the absolute top—not as a feared mob boss ruling through blood and violence, but as a brilliant, untouchable strategist who had outmaneuvered the most powerful families in the country without firing a single shot.
Spring arrived in Chicago, melting the ice off Lake Michigan and filling the estate gardens with bright tulips and green grass.
On a sunny Saturday afternoon, the Rossi estate was hosting its first-ever public event: a charity garden party for the newly opened Mia Cole Pediatric Foundation.
The grounds were filled with laughter, music, doctors, community leaders, and children running through the grass.
I stood on the marble terrace overlooking the gardens, wearing a simple pale yellow sun dress, holding a glass of iced tea.
"You look deep in thought," a deep voice purred behind me.
I turned as Zo stepped up beside me. He was wearing a casual linen shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, looking relaxed, healthy, and genuinely happy.
"I was just thinking about the night you dumped my green canvas bag on the garage floor," I smiled, leaning my shoulder against his.
Zo chuckled softly, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me close. "Worst night of your life?"
"I thought I was going to be buried under the driveway," I admitted. "I was so terrified."
"So was I," Zo said quietly.
I looked up at him, surprised. "You? Terrified?"
"I saw a woman standing in front of me who had nothing—no money, no power, no protection—and yet she had more courage and love in her pinky finger than any man I had ever met," Zo confessed, looking down at me with soft, devoted eyes. "I knew right then that if I didn't change my life, I was going to miss the only thing that ever mattered."
Mia came running up the terrace steps, her golden retriever puppy bouncing happily at her heels.
"Mom! Zo! Look!" she shouted excitedly, holding up a giant colorful ribbon she had won in the garden games. "I won first place in the ring toss!"
Zo dropped to his knee, taking the ribbon and admiring it like it was a gold medal. "First place? That calls for ice cream."
"Carmine made strawberry!" Mia squealed, turning and sprinting back down the steps with Barnaby close behind.
Zo stood up, watching her run with a proud, protective smile.
"She's happy, Zo," I murmured, sliding my hand into his. "We’re happy."
"We are," Zo agreed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, square velvet box.
My breath hitched.
He didn't drop to his knee—we had done enough dramatic things to last a lifetime. Instead, he opened the box, revealing a magnificent oval-cut diamond set in simple, elegant platinum band.
"No more contracts, Tessa," Zo said, his voice thick with emotion. "No more manager titles. No more rules. Just you, me, and Mia. Will you marry me?"
Tears of pure, overwhelming happiness spilled over my lashes. I threw my arms around his neck, pressing my lips to his.
May you like
"Yes!" I sobbed against his mouth. "Yes, Zo! A thousand times yes!"
He slipped the ring onto my finger, lifting me off the terrace floor and spinning me around under the warm spring sun while our friends and family cheered from the garden below.
