Chapter 7 - The Unbreakable Bond
The next morning, the Back Bay brownstone was louder, messier, and infinitely more alive than it had ever been in its century-long history.
Instead of a cold, empty fortress of power, the halls echoed with the sound of running sneakers, infectious laughter, and the occasional crash of plastic toys against antique furniture.
I stood in the massive kitchen, leaning against the marble island with a cup of black coffee in hand, watching the organized chaos unfold. Elena was standing near the stove, flipping pancakes while four miniature versions of me argued passionately over whether maple syrup or chocolate chips belonged on top.
"Dad! Tell Leo he can't have all the chocolate chips!" Marco yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at his brother.
"I'm the oldest by two minutes, I get executive privilege!" Leo shot back, crossing his arms and tilting his head at that familiar fifteen-degree angle.
I chuckled, walking over and placing a hand on Leo’s shoulder. "Executive privilege only goes so far, kiddo. Share the chips, or the syndicate is cutting off your allowance of apple juice."
The boys burst into giggles, instantly complying.
Elena turned around, wiping a speck of flour from her cheek with the back of her hand, looking at me with a soft, affectionate expression. I closed the distance between us, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her flush against my chest.
"You know," I murmured into her ear, "the council is still threatening to cut off our funding for the shipping yards."
Elena smiled, resting her hands against my chest right over the velvet box that had once held Sloane's ring—now empty and discarded. "Let them. We don't need their shipping ports, Dominic. We have everything we need right here."
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"Yeah, we do," I agreed, pressing my lips softly to hers.
For the first time in my life, Dominic Moretti wasn't playing a game of chess for power or survival. I had won the only war that mattered.
