Chapter 9 - The Ashes of the Past
Two weeks later, the rain hammered against the floor-to-ceiling windows of our Manhattan penthouse, washing away the dirt and noise of the city below.
Nico and Dominic were gone—sentenced by federal prosecutors through anonymous, rock-solid tips provided by my legal team to a remote federal penitentiary upstate, with zero chance of early parole. Chloe, having realized her association with the syndicate made her radioactive, had fled to Florida with whatever meager savings she had left, entirely disgraced and forgotten.
The Casaro syndicate was stronger, cleaner, and more unified than it had been in decades. And at the heart of it all wasn't just a ruthless mafia boss—it was a partnership built on mutual survival, absolute honesty, and an unbreakable bond forged in betrayal.
I stood by the window, holding a cup of green tea, watching the city lights blur through the cascading rain.
Strong, warm arms wrapped around my waist from behind, and a familiar chin rested gently on my shoulder.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Leo murmured, his breath warm against my neck.
“I was just thinking about where I was a month ago,” I confessed softly, leaning back into his solid embrace. “Standing outside a bedroom door in a red dress, thinking my entire life had just ended because of a cruel joke.”
Leo turned me around in his arms, his dark, piercing eyes softening as he looked down at me. He reached up, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
“Your old life ended the moment you walked into my study,” Leo said quietly. “And you didn't break, Myra. You rose.”
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“Because I had a very good teacher,” I smiled, sliding my arms up around his neck, letting the heavy sapphire ring catch the dim indoor light.
Leo’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile before he pulled me close, sealing our future in a deep, possessive kiss that washed away every ghost of the past.
