My Ex Emptied Our Savings and Left Me in Debt—Months Later, He Grabbed My Arm Until the Mafia Boss Said, “She’s My Wife.”

One year later.

The Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was alive with light, laughter, and the roaring cadence of the city’s most powerful elite.

It was the annual anniversary gala of the Rossi Global Foundation.

I stood on the mezzanine balcony overlooking the hundreds of guests below—senators, foreign ambassadors, corporate titans, and family heads from across the country, all gathered to pay homage to the new era of the Rossi name.

I wore an emerald gown that flowed like liquid fire, my neck adorned with rubies, my hair swept up in an elegant, sovereign coil.

A pair of strong arms slipped around my waist from behind, pulling me flush against a broad, familiar chest. Gabriel pressed a warm kiss against the crook of my neck, right over my fluttering pulse.

"You're hiding from your guests, Mrs. Rossi," he murmured against my skin.

I leaned back into his embrace, closing my eyes and reveling in the absolute safety of his arms. "I was just looking at how small everyone looks from up here."

"They look small because you are standing at the top of the world," Gabriel said, turning me in his arms so I faced him.

He looked down at me with the same fierce, unyielding devotion that had saved my life on that rainy night on the Hudson. On my left hand, the two rings—the emerald-cut diamond and the eternity band of pink stones—glinted brilliantly under the ballroom lights.

A junior aide rushed up the mezzanine stairs, looking flustered. "Mr. Rossi, Mrs. Rossi... excuse the interruption. A report just came in from the federal penitentiary in Colorado."

Gabriel didn't look away from me. "What is it?"

"Inmate Liam Vance’s petition for sentence reduction has been denied by the third circuit court of appeals," the aide reported crisp and clear. "His remaining twenty-two years stand without possibility of parole."

I looked into Gabriel's eyes. There was no triumph needed, no spiteful grin. Liam Vance was merely a ghost from a past life, a name etched onto a distant tombstone.

"Thank you, David. That will be all," I said calmly.

The aide bowed and hurried away.

Gabriel smiled, his thumb stroking my cheekbone with intoxicating tenderness. "Does that bring you peace, my love?"

"Liam didn't give me peace, Gabriel," I answered, sliding my arms around his neck, letting my fingers tangle into the dark hair at the nape of his neck. "You did."

Gabriel leaned down, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that was slow, deep, and filled with promises that no contract could ever capture.

When we finally broke apart, the orchestra below struck the first chords of the grand waltz. The ballroom fell silent, turning their faces upward toward the balcony, waiting for their king and queen to descend.

Gabriel offered me his arm, his scarred brow arched in a dangerous, magnificent smile.

"Shall we dance, Mrs. Rossi?"